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I ‘2'50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEAU} E AND AD u” i;“:'—_—_—‘“’  " " “~—

‘ ‘ ‘ ’“ rlce,
V01.  a. Year. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. , 5 uqnts. N0, 

 

 

 

 

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I I __ “iii ) ‘ 
.;- » THE BOY FERRET of NEW YORK.
' "z A Romance 0; Mysteries In J
i Metropolitan Life. I ’

 

BY COLONEL PREXTISS INGRAHAM,
AUTHOR OI“ “rmmmmnv HARRY,” “THE
001cm FIREFLY," “MERLE, THE
MUTINEER, max, ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
THE BOY MESSENGER.

6t .
largo. my boy! do you wxsh to make a. dol-
“I do, sir—indeed I do],
_ 1“ What; 13 your name?’
> . . , -
; W111, 811'. u , . . , ‘ . ‘ w .
I , I 1 “151! T0 Mala many, Tun. NH-E'r HAWK, Awamum WILL PROXPTLY

 

 

 

‘b '

«(,gegl'l'fiyrlvu’ can you kee“ our mouth shut?”

“ Can you be blind, if need be?‘

“ You mean, not see anything that.
tended for me to see, sir?”

H Ya.”

“ I understand, sir.” 13

" Well, it is important that this letter reaches
a friend of 'mine, as I cannot go myself, so you
take it to the number; can you read?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Well, take it to the number on the envelope,
and ring the bell sha ly three times; then ask
for Jerry, the Night awk; will you remember
the name?” ,

‘ Yes, sir—Jerry, the Night Hawk.”

“ Yes, that’s it; and you must give him the
letter in person.”

“ Suppose he is not there, sir?"

“ Then find out when he will be, and keep the
letter for him; and see, I write on the back here
for him to give you a. couple of dollars, after
which go
you have one.”

“Yes, sir,” and the boy took the note and
turned to depart to the address on the envelope,
when he was called back, while the man stood
in silent thought. .

was a gentlemanly looking person, With a
face, bawever, stamped with lsslpatlon.

In the neighborhood where he had met the
b0 , he a d to be out of place.

lgor ha a moment he stood, gazing at the
face of the youngs r, and then he said:

“ My  do yo remember to have seen me
before!"

“ No, sir; and yet it seems as if I had.”

“ It so seems to me. and your face comes to
me like a dream of the past which I cannot
recall; but—never mind; go and do as I have
told you, and you will get your pay,” and the
man walked on down the street; but before he
had gone far. he sprung into a hack, which had
«vidently been waiting for him, and was driven
:iwa .

Tiiia boy thus intrusted with what was evi-
dently an important note, was an urchin of
t weiVe; but he looked older, and there was that
in his bright, handsome face which denoted
both courage of a high order and intelligence
be 'ond his years.

c was poorly, very poorly clad, but his
clothing was clean, and he evidently took pride
in appearing at his best.

The locality he was in was a hard one, one of
the worst localities in the city of New York
and rude, rough characters—men, women an
children—were upon the streets.

But the lad Went on his way without noticing
any one, and, as though acquainted with hissur-
roundings, turned into a wretched street that
was little more than an alley way. .

He sto ped at a certain number and seized the
bell kno , which appeared to belong to a by-
gone age, and in fact] the house was a quaint
old structure that had long been the abode of

povert .
His t a sharp rings, as he had been directed

s not in-

to give, were answered by the door opening, ,

seemingly without human agency, while a

voice demanded:
‘ “ Well, step inside and tell me what‘ you
want?” . I ’ '

Th'e messenger-stepped into a  hallway,
and saw before him, only a few’feet distant an-
other door, while, through an open panel in it

peered a man’s face. .

“ I wish to see Jerry, the Night Hawk,” ex—
plained the youngster. , ‘

“ What do you want with him?”

“ I have a letter for'him."

“ Give it to me.”

“No, sir, for I have orders from my boss to
give it omit!) Jerry.” . .

“All rig t, you can go up and see him, top
floor, ri ht hand side front room,” was the reply,
and as t e man spoke the other door closed be-
hind the boy, the one in his front opened, and
he found he was in a hallway, into which no
doors opened, other than the one thro h which
he ,andintherear was yapair

had
of‘,stairs occupying the entire width of the nar-

row geway. .

A iin light came from above somewhere, and

the messenger ascended the stairs to the second

floor, where he saw doors u ei er Side.
Ascendin to the third oor, 9 son ht the

doortow hehadbeendirecl,and

hitched and h cited ' hileand

o answerogmno, e w a w ‘

i k ooh
as n n then his eyes fell upon

hill no a , and
xii-nil knob, wh .h he pulled and found to be a

" 'wizard Win, thh

 

our way, and forget all about what .

 

' .‘ in V,’

Still no res use} and the thou ht came to
him to ring it  times, as he h the hell be-
low stairs. .

This he did, and instantly he heard avvoice be-
hind him. . _ ”

“ Well, youngster, what is it you are after?

He was startled, and turning saw a man’s
face at a anel in the door. . .
wis to see Jerry, the Night Haw ,” an-
Wlll, promptly.

sent on?

it
SWoI.

u ,

“T1193 ' 'i tell hini ” was the cool reply.

" Well. fill-Jen , th’e Night Hawk.”

The boy 100k incredulous, and the man
opened the door. sud canan to him to enter.

This he did, and found hrmmlf in a hallway
that was perfestb' square, and the light came in-
to it from alovethrough a skylight 2

There was no door in this hall, except the one
by which he had entered, but the man said: .

‘i Is there, an answer?”

" Yes, sir,” said the boy, when he had meant
so say no, but he did not correct himself, and in-
stnntly the man tapped three times upon the
Wooden wall of the hallway.

To the new surprise of the boy one side of it
was at once run uqurd, revealing a small
room, and into this the two stepped, the man
telling the youngster to follow.

In the room was a cot-bed, a table, and a
rough-looking individual stood in one corner,
holding a ro )e in his hand, and which he now let
go, the w en partition, under which they had
passed, immediately sliding Back into place
again.

“ Now, lad, the letter,” said the man who had
entered the room with him.

" Are you Jerry, the Night Hawk?” and the
boy {poked the man straight in the eyes.

bi es.

The boy took out the letter and handed it to
him, and glancing at the address he broke
open the envelope.

What was written within was to the point,
and very short, for the man at once said:

“ Yes, you are just the be we want, as the
captain says,” and he gaze( into the hand-
some, fearless young facc before him.

1 ‘1‘ What do you want me for!” asked the
at .

“ That you shall soon know, and if you serve
us wall, on will be well treated; but if not,
then you’l have to die, that is all,” was the
ominous re ly of the man, as be seized the boy
by the shou der and dragged him through a door
into a large room where were assembled a dozen
men, whose scowling faces were turned upon the
lad with a look that was wicked and threaten-
ing. As he' recalled the Words of Jerry. the
Night Hawk, and beheld the wild, evil—looking
men about him, the heart. of the brave boy
shrunk with fear, for it needed no words to tell
him that he had been led into some trap from
which there seemed little chance of escape.

CHAPTER II.
AN OATH TO WIN, A vow 'ro AVENGE.

THE scene of my story shifts from the city to
the country. A young man, evidently city-bred,
was stand n beneath the shelter of a woodman’s
shanty, wh e the rain poured in torrents, and
sent little brooks surging like miniature riVers
adown the hillsides.

It Was in one of the most beautiful localities of
the State of Maryland where forest, stream.
woodland and vale stretched awa in picturesque
attractiveness for miles, and w ere the broad
fields of well-to-do farmers were filled with the
golden grain.

The can man was clad in huntsman’s garb,
carri a s ot-gun, which he shielded from the
dampness, and at his feet crouched a dog. while
the ame—bag hanging on a limb near-by proved
the unter's skill.

It was approaching sunset time, and the storm
had been raging for a couple of hours. the rain-
fall being so heavy as to deluge the country,
and make foaming torrents of mere rivulets.

“It is clearing now, and I will venture, for I
would not like to be caught in the woods bv

'darkness, as I would have to remain all night,”

and the‘hunter gazed up anxious] at the cloud
breaking away in the westward.y ‘ 8’

He was a man of twenty-six, rho , afid his
erect form, elegant manners an han me face
had won many a, ' ‘l’s heart.

A Philadelphian,  the ideal of society he
had run away from mpation and com es
for a few days’ shooting in Maryland, and his
501:1? day of sport had been checked ,by the
s rm.

As the rain ceased falling he threwhis game-
bag over his shoulder and started out upon his

 

‘Wonder ‘Wor-ker;j

return to the little Cross-Roads Inn where he,..
was stopping. _

He had to pick his way carefully and often,
as it was, he went into water near y up to the
top of his boots. .

At last he came to a rustic bfid , across a
brook; but the brook was now su g beyond
its banks, and driving furiousl along.

“110, don’t cross there!” cried a voice from
the other shore. _ ,

But the hunters hgeded not the warning and
srunu ntherige. . , ,

plt wgas Pthttering, for its foundations had he- '
come undermined; but he hastened on; at trem-
bled, swerved rocked, and he rung quickly
toward the ot er shore, but too te, as before
and behind him the spans were turn away, and -
the centre one, upon which he stood must go
next.

“ Ah! I cannot swim, and am lost!” he cried,
in a tone of horror. '

“ I will save you,” shouted the same voice from
the shore. r

Then followad the words: “Throw your gun
and game-ha away, and spring clear of the
wreck when call to on.”

The hunter tossed is fine gun and game-bag
from him and nerved himself for the ordeal.

He saw the one who had called to him—.8. tall
fearless-faced young man—throw aside his coat
and hat and plunge into the whirling waters,
some distance above" the bridge. \

As he came sweeping down the bold swimmer
called out: H

“ Nowjum !” . .

The hunter obeyed, and sun beneath the foam-
ing current: but, as he arose, is arm was seized
by the swimmer, and at the same instant the
tottering center of the bridge gave way, and was
sw t after them.

“ on’t be alarmed, but keep cool, and I’ll work
toward the bank with on.

“There, put your ands on my shoulders!
That's right, and you are as serene as a May
morn; so all will be well,” and the swimmer
struck out for the bank, and at last caught the
bough of an ovvrhan ing tree.

It blistered his ban 5 to hold on; but he did so,
and the hunter, who was perfectly Self-lossessed,
also lgrasped the tree, and both clamhered up the

an .

“I owe you my life, my man, and you have
but to name your price,” said the hunter.

“Thank you, stran er, but I am not a profes-
sional lifesaver, and money would not have
tempted me to have gone to the aid of one who
could not swim.

“ But’ come, I was on my way to Miller Ray-
mond’s, and I can make lzold to take you there.
as I’m about one of the family, I may say, for I
soon will be.

“ The miller will send you over to the inn in
his spring wagon. for I guess you’re the city gen-
tleman I card was stopping there.”

The hunter saw that his bold irscuer, evidently
a farmer, was one who had pride, and merited
the treatment of a gentleman. ,

. “I beg pardon for offering you 111011932 but it
could never repay the sauce, so we’ll be
friends.

“My name is Schuyler Cluett, and that I ap-
preciate your saving my life on must know.”

The young farmer for suc_ he was, gi'aSped
the outstretched ban . and said: '

“ My name is Kent Lqmax, and I’m glad you
begged my pardon. for it proves you to be the
man I thought you when I saw your luck in the
water. You were as cool as an icic 9. But let
us move on, for we’ll get cold sta ing here.”

so on they went alon the ma bordering the
stream, and, just at dar ,came in view of an old
mill standing up0t the bank, the water-Wheel
turning furiously, while up on the hillside was a.
handsome country house, that had the look of '
being the abode of one who enjoyed llvmg.

“Well, Kent. you and your friend havebeen
caught in the. storm, that’s certain,” said an ‘
honest—faced old man, meeting them at_the door.

“ We’ve been caught in the creek Miller Ra _
mend: and this is, Mr. Schu ler dluett a ni
gentleman, stopping at the mas—Heads Inn, for
a few days’ shooting, and I told him you would
send him over.” ,

. “ I am glad to meet you. sir: but I guess you’d
better stay with us to—mg‘ht, for we can rig you
011$, as well as Kent. 311d 1’" got a little apple
brandy that will do you both good.”

“1 thank you, 811‘ :” and then Scbuyler Cluett
added: “ But let me as that my modest grind
here tailed t0 17811 3'0}! t t he saved my life, as
the bridge went in With me, and I cannot swim 
a. stroke.” . . t.»

“Ah! that is.3ust hke Kent; but here is m
daughter, and he saved her life years ago in

 

r.. “'3
’ ’1‘ ‘.

L’s}.

.3

nw,.<v—. _

  

are» «41‘s - ’
diff" =  _ ,'

 
   

same stream,_when the were children together.
Ruby, this ls Mr. C uett whose life Kent
just saved
clothes in the spare rooms, and tell your mother
that we have guests to supper.

“ Come, Mr. Cluett, you and Kent need a little

internal warming 11 after your ducking ” and , and the miller oaned as h nk
br d f th in trashed 011’ akglass ogalliple i lgnees by the bodgr ’ e su
an yo . e m ers own ma ing an tien and buried his ace in the ill " ‘
sought their respective rooms to chhnge their the one who had p ow by the M e '

the two young men

,- ‘ VHW‘ zfgflgfifil-mi‘ i. _‘ u,

; but hasten to lay out some of my I

0

he bent over the form of the mother.
“ Well.”

“ Nerve ourself for another bitter blow.”

“ 0h G 1 another?”

“ Your wife is dead,” was the low response,
_ upon his

of his wife and graspin her

for twenty years he

, his
clothes for, after his eyes had fallen upon Ruby name the moth 1’ hi ' Emel‘
Raymdnd, the young hunter had decided to re— the death-blow.“ o s cmld Who had

miiin all night at the millcr’s.

He felt that he did not look his best, in a cor-
duroy suit of the miller’s and a broad shirt
collar; but he had tomake the best of it, and so
descended to the parlor.

Kent was alread there, as was Miller Ray
mond, his wife, an Ruby. and the young hun-
ter was introduced, and again told the story of
his rescue by Kent.

Then su per was served, and such a su per
Schuyler (.luett had never sat down to be ore
he said, and with truth, for Mistress Raymond
was noted for her housekeeping the country
over.

During the evening Ruby sung, in a sweet so-
prano voice, played the piano with a skill that
surprised the city-bred gentleman, and he found
her to be lovely in face and form, with large.
dark-blue eyes, golden hair, and a smile of most

 

 

 

“ Dead .’ dead /” shouted front Lomax with
wild 9 es and writhin f m-

“Thyat man did thing daeed, ft» he fascinated
poor Ruby, Won her from me, from home, from
all, and b the eternal Heaven I wil track him
to his ilea h for this!

“I saved his life once, but now I will take
away that life; I vow it, so help me God!"

 

CHAPTER III.
TRACKED TO. HIS LAIR.

THERE were no handsomer bachelor rooms. in
the city of Philadelphia, than were those of
Schuyler Cluett, the handsome young gallant
and “ man about town.”

Society said he was very rich that he had
been left a large fortune by an unc e, and many
were the young ladies who sought to win favor

fascinating sweetness, while her refinement of i in his eyes.

manner was as much a surprise to him as were
her accomplishments.”
Mr. Schuyler Cluett also learned a secret from

His rooms consisted of a suite of five, for there
was his parlor, combined with sitting-room, his
bed-chamber, a spare one {Or a belated guest, a

the miller, and that was the fact of Ruby’s en- ! snug little kitchen that was also used as a break-

gagement to Kent Lomax.
‘ Kent is a fine fellow, Mr, Cluett ” volun-

fast room, and a slee )ing place for a servant.
All were delightful y furnished, and the young

teeer the miller, and we have known him from 3 bachelor was wont to take his breakfast at ten,

boyhood.

“His father married a cross-grained woman
after his first wife’s death, and she made it so
warm for the boy he ran away and went to sea.

“He was gone six years, and returned one
day to find his step-mother dead, so he remained
at home. took care of his father until his death,
and now owns the farm, a mile from here, and a
good one it is.

“ He and Ruby have loved each other always,
and they are to be married, come Christmas.”

Schuyler Cluett went to his room that night,
pondering over all he had heard, and at last he
said half aloud:

“ That beautiful girl marry that common fel-
low? Never! she shall be mine, and I swear
it I”

And Schuyler Cluett kept his treacherous
oath against the man who had saved his life, for
the very eve of her wedding-day with Kent Lo-
max, Ruby Raymond stole out of her pleasant
room, unlocked the front door, and glided acrOSs
the lawn to the foot of the hill, where in a.
buggy, with a pair of spirited horses, sata young
man awaiting er. . _

“ Come, hasten, Ruby,” he said in a low bone,

“ Oh, Schuyler, I have given up all for you,
my rents, my happy home, and poor Kent.

‘Igwill break his heart; but thendt would
have broken my heart to become his Wife lov1ng
you as I do.” .

And away sped the fleet horses, while the
night were on, the dawn came, Christmas morn,
and Mrs. Raymond hastened to her dau htcr’s
room, to wish her only child a happy h’mt‘
mas, a happy wedding day.

A shrie that broke from her 1i 5, followed
by a heavy fall, brought the m or to the
room.

His wife lay unconscious on the floor, an open
letter in her hand. _

He read it, and his heart grew cold at the
words:

“ Forgive me. mother. father, forgive me: but I
could not marr K89}, as I do not love him, my
heart being anot cr 5.

" Finding out the secret of my hem, 1 would not

rjure myself by marrying Kent Lomax. and so I
g; tonight with the one whose wife 1 am to be.

" Some day, when you feel 1110113 kindly toward
me, I will come back and plead for your forgive-
ness.

" Now good-by and God bless you and Door Kent,
whom my heart bleeds for in the sorrow i know he

will feel.
“Your ever loving daughter, “
Roar."

Loud and stem run the miller’s voice, canin
for 31d. and one servagnt was dispatched for mg
Village doctor. for Mrs. Raymond still lay in ‘
swoon and another for Kent Lomax.

They arrived together, and Kent Lorna: look.
9“ like a 00 as the miller read his daughter’s
letm'o ‘0". t 9 was of the deserted lover were
bl linded mm 8"“ anti all seemed blurred before

i
I

 

his valet getting the meals for him, while his
dinners and suppers he always took at the fash-
ionable True Blue Club, of which he was a pop-
ular member.

At a stable near he kept his coupe and riding-
horse, with a coachman, so that he lived in very
great comfort; in fact, it amounted to luxury.

His bills were alwavs prom )tly paid at the
end of the month; he ( rcssed with elegance, took
the best seats 'at the opera and theaters, was
able to take a run around to Long Branch, Cape
may, Newport. Saratoga and the White Moun-
tains in the summer, and having spare moi?
always with him to loan a friend an Xora X ,
he was rated a good fellow among the men.

One night, about one, A. M., Schuyler Cluett
was preparing to retire, and a friend who had
accompanied him home had been shown to the
spare room, which also opened into the parlor,
so that the two talked as they undressed.

“ That deuced valet of mine is always away
when I need him most,” growled the young
bachelor.

“ Now, here he is oil’ at a ball, and why ser-
vants must have balls I cannot understand, and
both you and I, Rayford, are half drunk, and
need him to look after our Comfort.”

“ It‘s too bad!” sung out Rayford from his
room.

“I’d discharge him, Schuyler.”

“ I will, and do. I discharge him eve day
but I hire him over a ain before he gets 0 i and
that spoils him; so I’l discharge him some time
for a week, and it will teach him a lesson—ah!
there he is now, and I’ll have to go out in the
hall and let him in, for he’s forgotten his night
key,” and Schuyler Cluett went to the door to
answer a ring.

As the door opened, he began to berate his
valet, as be supposed it was, but was Consider-
ably taken aback at beholding a stranger enter
the hall.

He failed to recognize him at first, but sud-
denly beheld him in the full light of the parlor,
Whit‘her the stranger had strode with the re-
mar :

“ I wish to see you, Mr. Schuyler Cluett.”

“Ho, Lomax. my dear fellow I did not know

on; but you look ill and somet inil has Surely

appeDde, fOI‘ You are as haggard as though after
a long illness,” and Schuyler Cluett held out his

hand.

“ No, Cluett, I do not take the hand of a vil-
lain ” was the stern reply of the young farmer.

“ y Heaven! are you drunk? W at-do you
mean?” and. the eyes of the oung aristocrat
flashed, while his friend Ray 0rd, half-dressed,

red out of his door, startled at the turn affairs
ad taken. .

“ I mean, Schuyler Cluett, that on, like a
snake that you are, fascinated poor ittle Ruby
Raymond, she that Was to have been in wife.

‘ We were happy until you came, am she was
all my own; but one unluck day I dragged you
away from death. and I too you to her home,

 

 

Wizard Will, the; Wonder Worker. ______§

“Miller Raymon ,” said the doctor softly, as and from that r “em you began to Win her

r9311] “’9' ., .ii, I felt it all, for she became un-
h saw} she told me she thou ht we should
bgppii.&r and brother, for she oved me, but
no, .s a wife should.

' She saw how it hurt me to hear her say so,
and so she said she did not mean it; but she de-
ceived me, for she did mean it, and one week
ago, on the ver ' eve of our wedding-day, you
came like a thief, in the night and stole her from
me.”

“ Good God! Lomax, I am not guilty of this
and you wrong me, indeed you do!” cri
Schuyler Cluett, his face the picture of amaze-
mcnt.

Kent Lomax seemed astounded, and asked,
sternly:

“ Do you deny it?”

“ I do. Upon my honor, yes !”

“You den that on ran off with Ruby Ray-
mond from erjat cr’s house, at twelve o’clock
an._thelnight of Christmas Eve?”

( o.

“ hm lie in your false throat, man!” shouted
the farmer, and at his words Schuyler Cluett
Sprung tow?” im; but, quick as a flash. a
pistol met him, t.» muzzle in his face, while the
young farmer said, stormy;

“ Back! I did not come here unprepared, and
I would kill you, oh! how gladly!”

“I tell you I am falsely acciisnd; and hem
unarmed, and knowing your great strength, I
am forced to hear you accuse me and submit to
your insults, Kent Lomax.”

“ Schuyler Cluett, I know that you are guilty,
for I tracked you in your villainv.”

“ Yet you find me here in my bachelor moms,
and there is a friend who is with me, and can
vouch for my words.”

“ I can. indeed, sir, for I know that my friend
Cluett has been but two days absent from the
city the week past,”and Randal Rayford step«
Fed out of his room into the parlor, be having
iastily dressed as he saw that a tragedy was
threatening.

“ Ah! he was two days absent, then?

“ They are the tram days in which he commit-
ted the crime of kidnap ring and nzurder— ”

“Murder? Good G i of what else will you
accuse me, Lomax?”

“Yes, of murder; for when poor Mrs. Ray-
mond read the note left by Ruby, she fell in a
faint, and she never came to herself again, but
died. and four days ago I went to see her
buried over in the village graveyard.

“ Then I took your track, Schuyler Cluett, and
I found out where you hired your team of fast
horses, and where you drove to catch the train.

" There you bought two tickets for Baltimore,
arid I lost trace of you after I arrived in that
c1 y.‘

“ You have tracked some other man, Lomax,
for your sweetheart did not run off with me.”

“ And I say that I saw the man of whom you
hired your horses, and he described you.”

“ Other men look like me, Lomax."

“ And I saw the station-agent where you took
the train for Baltimore, and he described you,
and Ruby. also.”

“ An accidental resemblance.”

“A man met you at that station, to drive
the horses back to the town where you hired
them.”

“ That proves nothing.”

“ Does this?” and Kent Lomax drew from his
pocket a handkerchief.

“That is a lady‘s handkerchief, I believe,”
was the cool reply.

“ It was left by Ruby Raymond in the wait-
ing-room of the railroad station, and it bears
her name.”

“ That roves she did run of! with some one;
but who, max, for I am not the ilty one?”

“Does this prove anything?” an the oung
fariiier held up the gold head of a wa king-
stic .

Schuyler Cluett again started forward, as
though to grasp it; but the pistol’s muzzle once
more confronted him, while Kent Lomax fairly
hissed forth the words:

“ This I found in the buggy, and there is the
stick—see, it fits!” and ste ping to a corner, ho
picked up a headless wal ing-stick of snake-
root.

“ You will not deny your guilt now, for this
gold head bears your name, and it came ofl in

he bu , and you doubtless thought you bid
dr it along the road.” '

“I say that I am not guilty,” was the mum
re .

ERG“! 511'. I say that on are, and I tame
here to kill you; but I wil not be a coward and,
shoot down an unarmed man. Yet I Will not

,a

 

  
   

 
 

allow on to escape ,. ‘
wrong believe you have datst to “gm: “‘3 
I have vowed, over the dead bo'i'l‘jor Ruby’lfan
mond, to avenge her death.” I Mrs' 3"

“ What is your intention, Lomax, . th.
scene is growing monotonous to me?” ‘1‘ ls

“ My intention is to demand that you meet .,
face to face, arms in our hands, and as one gei'i-
tleman should meet another, though I do not
consider you worthy the name you have dis-
honored.”

“By the Lord Harry! but this. is too much,
and I Will meet you were you the lowest of the
low; so name your friend, and Mr. Rayford
here will arrange with him!” hotly said Schuy-
ler Cluett.

“ I have no friend, but that gentleman will do,
and he is all we. need.

“I will meet 1you at sunrise, at any place you
may state, for do not know this city, and our

- weapons will be revolvers, the distance ten paces,
that gentleman to give the word to fire, and to
keep it up until one or both are killed.”

“That will suit me,” was the cool reply, and
turning to his friend. he continued: ,

“ You will act for us, Rayford in this 11331?
this mad fool has forced u 11 me?”

“ Certainly, and there 120a pretty SPOt on the
banks of the Schuylkill river we can select, for
I know it well, and I will give this gentleman
written instructions how to reach there.

“ At sunrise you say ?” and he turned to Kent
Lomax. . _ ‘

“ Yes, and sooner if it could be so. "

“ That is soon enough, and here is your direc-
tion to reach the spot,” and he jetted down a
few notes upon a paper.

“ Thank you; and Schu ler Cluett if you
prove yourself a coward an do not come, I will
prove merciless and kill you at sight, as I would
a snake,” and Kent Lomax left the rooms.

CHAPTER IV.
THE MEETING.

UNTIL the time for him to seek some means of
reaching the spot. selected for the meeting, that
he intended should be fatal to one of them, Kent
Lomax walked the streets of the city, brooding
deeply over his sorrows, and his determination
to avenge Ruby, whom he looked upon with
pity rather than anger, and her mother, whose
death had been brought on by the act of Schuy-
ler Cluett.

At daylight' he sought a livery stable, and
asked for a horse to ride out to the rendezvous.

“You can get a horse, sir, but you are un-
known to us, and we must ask a. deposit of his
value,” said the man.

“ Ahl that is it, you fear I am a horse-thief;
well, hitch u a carriage for me and send a
driver, one w o knows how to reach this lace,”
and he gave the directions where he wis ed to

o.

g Soon after he sprung into the vehicle and was
driven aWay at a rapid pace, and, in an hour’s
time was set down at a lonely spot on the river-
bank. '

Up the stream some distance he saw another
vehicle draw up, and out of it sprung Schuyler
Cluett and Rayt'ord, and he walked hastily to-
ward them.

“ I am glad to see that you are not a coward,”
said Kent Lomax, addressing Schuyler Cluett.

“ You are all wrong in this, Lomax, much as
appearances are against me,” said Cluett.

“I know I am right, for I have not had my
eyes shut the past two months. -

“ Are you ready?”

H I am.”

“ l have brought a pair of weapons belonging
to Mr. Cluett, sir, and you can take your
choice,” said Rayford, opening a box in which
were a pair of handsome revolvers.

“ I have a weapon, sir.”

“ It is best that they be alike.”

“ Very well, I will take one of these.”

“ Take your choice.”

Kent Lomax selected one without an instant
of hesitation. and said:

“ This will do.”

Rayford took the revolver and carefullv loaded
it,_ and then he took up the other and did like-
Wise.

Then he paced of! ten paces, gave the men the
choice of positions by tossing up a dollar, and
Kent max won.

Both tOOk their positions, Schuyler Cluett with
aquiet smile of confidence upon his face, and
Kent Lemax calm, cold, but haggard, stern and
determined. .

The sun was now up, Ending the treetops and
causing the dew to spar le like diamonds upon
the gran.

Wizard Wi

It was a retty scene, and yet one that had
been sele'ctedpto be desecrated by a tragedy.

Each man took his pOSItIOIl, revolver in hand,
and standing to one side, Rayford said:

“ Gentlemen, I am to give the word as fol-
lows: '

“ One, two, three, fire!

“ BctWeen the words three and fire, you are
” null trigger, and you can keep firing until one
( 1“ 0 other falls, or ydou empty your weapons.

“v are on rea _

Both .fi‘ddedI in the affirmative, and then in a
loud voice (‘u-‘e or... fatal words: ,

“ One I two I three—H

There was no nch of uncaring the word fire,
for the revolver of each flashed at three,

And the result?

Schuyler Cluett Ste Send beelrward, his
hand to his head, while ent Lomax dropped as
though a bullet had pierced his brain.

“ Snot through the heart,” said Rayford
cmll . and then turning to his friend he added:

 

 

“ think that should cancel my indebtedness
to you Schuyler.”

“ What?”

“ I put a ball of putty, wrapped with tin-foil,
in his pistol, and even with it e left his mark
in the dead center of your forehead, for it is
bruised; but had it been lead, you would have
been a dead man.”

“Great God! did you do that i’” asked Schuy-
ler Cluett.

“ I did.”

“ Rayford, 1 know not what to say: but as
you have saved my life, I will call the debt
square between us; but See, he is not dead, and
I will put him in his carriage and send him to
a hospital, for we must look to our own safety
now.’

This was done; the bod of the wounded, un—
conscious man was placer in the carriage that
had brought him out, and the driver ordered to
take him to a hos ital.

Then the two riends entered their own car-
riage, and were driven, by another road, rapid-
ly back to the city.

The next morning the following notice of
the affair appeared in the morning papers:

“ A MYSTERIOUS DUEL:

“ At dawn yesterday morning a young gentleman
evidently from the country, judging from his dress
and appearance, went to sailor‘s livery stable and
sought to hire a saddle-horse for a few hours; but,
upon the rice of the animal being (I manded. as he
was an ut er stranger to the. foreman, he called for
a carriage and (lerer, and ordered the latter to
drive him to a spot on the Schuylkill river. between
the Laurel Hi I Cemelery and the Wiseatickon
creek. and to lose no time in etting there.

“ Upon reaching the spot e left the vehicle, just
as another carriage drove up in the dismnce, and
from it all hted two gentlemen.

" There t e Stranger walked on and met them, re-
ports his driver, and the three Convcl‘sed together
for a moment' then two of them threw off their
overcoats, while the third paced off a certain dis-
tance and. after loading two weapons laken from a
case. handed them to the duelists

“Word was then given, the driver supposes—for
he. was too far off to hear—and the pistols flashed
together. one man stagge log, as though wounded,
the other falling as though dead.

“The driver was then called. and the one who
lay prostrate was raised and placed in the vehicle
w ich was ordered to drive with all S)€Cd to the
Hospital. the others entering t ie carriage
alld driving rapidly OR in another direction.

“Upon m ing questioned by our reporter. the
driver of the stranger said that the. other duelist
was a young society man about town, but he did
not. or pretended not to know his name.

“ He said the stranger‘s bullet had wounded him
in the head, as he wore a handkerchief about it, but
there was no blood-stain visible .

” The comrade of the alleged soc1etv-man was also
a young gentleman of this city, but W cm the driver
pretended not to know.

" Going to the Hospital our reporter discov-
ered that the stranger was there.

“ He had a watch. chain. seal-ring and sleeve-but-
tons all of good value. and a p00k9fh00k CONalDiDR
Several hundred dollars in bank-bills, but not asllp
of paper. or anything to solve his identity.

“ He was shot just overthe hearl. and the surgeons
fcnrt"l '50 probe the, wound. which they say will
doubtless prove fatal though there is the slightest
chance for his rccovn-y, as he possess s a fine phy-
sique and the appearance of an iron constitution.

"Reporters and detectives are busy trying to solve
the mysterymnd our readers will be informed if
aught is discovered regarding this strange affair.”

 

 

 

CHAPTER V.
THE BOY PROTECTOR.

AGAIN to the crowded metropolis my story
shifts, and to a art of the grand city where
dwell those of the humbler walks in life.

Here are no brown-stone fronts, no elegant
hplmes, but the imprint of poverty is upon
a . -

11, the Wonder Worker.

 

 

.g- 

 

Long years before the place was a fashion--
able locality: but the rapid growth of the city
forced the wealthy residents up town, and into:
their homes, not then as now, superb structures,
palatial in their fittin s, the poorer classes
moved, to again give p ace to th0se of a still.
lower strata of the society that goes to make up
the world to be found in metropolitan life.

In a tenement-flat, on the fourth floor of a
dingy-looking building, a woman sat alone, a.
piece of embroidery in her hands.

The flat consisted of four rooms, one large»
one in the front, with a hall-room adJoming, and
the same in the rear. . .

Those in the front were used as Sitting—room
and bed—room; those in the rear, the larger one
for a kitchen and dining—room combined, the
smaller for a sleeping-chamber, for there was a.
cot in it.

The furniture was very scant, and very
cheap-looking, there being nothing more than:
was actually necessary for use.

But an air of cleanliness was upon all, and
the woman who sat alone in the front room had
the a pearance of one reared in refinement, one-
who find seen better days ere she had come to
feel the pinching of poverty.

She was neatly clad in a black cashmere dress.
that was a trifle seedy, and which appeared to-
have been often brushed.

Her form was slender, very aceful, and her:
face was beautiful, yet very sag-f vei'y wretched
in expression, while her large eyes were sunken
and inflamed as though from weeping.

The work she was engaged upon ill accorded
with the room and surroundings, for she was:
embroidering a silk scarf of a rare and costly
pattern, and she kept it folded closely in a clean.
towel, exce tin the part upon which her
slender, skil ful fingers worked. .

An easel stood near her with a box of paints.
and brushes, and a half-finished ainting was be—--
fore her, a landscape scone, wit a cosey mun--
try house, an old mill, a brook, and a valley
stretching away in the distance.

Suddenly her eyes were raised from her work,
and rested upon the canvas.

“ Dear, dear old Brookside! how I long to see
you once again, and yet I dare hot go, even.
thou h I should have to beg my bread.

“ ot one word in all those long, weary
wretched years have I heard from those whom I
loved so dearly, and deserted to become the Wife
of—a scmmdrel! _

“God forgive me that rash act; and forgive-
me for bringing sorrow upon my parents and
poor Kent: but I was fascinated by that wretch
—yes, fascinated, as though by a snake. for it
was not love I felt, as now I hate him—no, no,
I should not say that of the dead, of the father
of my children,” and she dropped her face in her
hands and burst into tears.

Thirteen (‘ars have passed anay since the
reader last eheld her who sits there sobbing
like a child, and the once l'cautiful girl of
eighteen, pretty Ruby Raymond, the miller’s
daughter, has sadly changed in all that time.

Almost from the moment that she left her
lovely, happy home, deserting her parents. and
flying from the love of tonest, brave Kent
Lomax, her miseries had begun; and. too proud
to return to dear old Brookside, though deserted
by her husband, whom she afterward had heard
was dead, she struggled on to sup} ort herself"
and her two children.

Not a word had she heard from her parents,
and she would not write to them, fearing a re—
buff.

Not a word had she heard from Kent Lcmax,
and, after all that she had done to bleak his
heart. she would not seek his aid in her distiess.

She had Scwcd. en lu'oidcrcd. and then taken
up painting as a means of support: but her in—
come was small, and she had to live very hum—

blY- . .

Her children she sent to the public school, and
she clothed them as well as she could.

“Oh! if I could on] get a little money saved
up, that, in disguise, {could go down to Brook—
side and see them all there, though they know
me not! .

“ I could leave my children With good—hearted
Mrs. Lucas, next door, and be gone but a few
days, for I would on] wish to see the dear old
home. to gaze upon t e faces of my parents, to
see Kent, and then Come baCk t0 m wretched--
ness and toil; but I feel I could wor the better
if I could go. _

“Still, I’cannot, for It WOUld take nearly fifty
dollars to go and return, and} have but ten
saved 11 , and it_WOUId 110$ be right, if I had the
money 0 spend it thus. for what if I should be

taken sick, whatwculd my little ones do?"
Again she buried her face in her hands and .

    

 



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Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker.

 

 

we t, to start suddenly, hastily drying her eyes
an as a second knock came at the door, to call
.out:

“ Come in I”

The door opened and a man entered.

He was a most unpre ossessin looking per-
son, one to dread, for he ooked 1i e a tramp in
dress, and a scoundrel in his face.

The woman arose quickly, and asked as firmly
as she could:

“ Well, SlI‘, what do you Wish here?”

“ I’ve come on business, missus, so don’t go
“to squealin’, for 1 doesn’t mean tcr harm yer ef
yer puts up ther chink as I tells you,” was the
re ly in a sullen voice. .

he woman saw that she was in the man’s
power, for to scream would bring no aid, as it
’would scarcely be heard above the din of the

«city.

Her children were at school, and there was no
.one to call upon.

The face of the man showed his evil heart, and
in dread she said:

“I have but a few dollars in the world, and
would you take that ?”

“ I would, you bet! for I needs money, and
[’11 git it, ef I has ter make trouble, so out with
it 77

i .The oor woman stepped to a little half desk,
halfta le, the place where she kept the few
souvenirs of the past, and took therefrom a silk

purse.

Out of this she took the money, eleven dollars
in all.

“Let me keep one dollar,” she pleaded, add-
Lln 3
a I need it so much.”

“ Not a copper cent, missus, so hand it over.”

“ Here it is, eleven dollars.’

“It is not enough, for I need more.”

“ It is all I have.”

“ You’ve got jewelry?”

“Only a httle, souvenirs of my ugirlhood.”

“ Durn yer girlhood! Yer sho d fergit it; so
‘hand it over.”

“ I will not !” she said firmly.

“ Then I chokes that neck 0’ yours ontil you
.can’t reach, and takes all.” '

“ ercy! you can have all," and she handed
out a small box containing a few trinkets of lit-
tle intrinsic value, but which she prized most
high] . .

a ou’ve got some rlngs there.”

“ My wedding ring, and one other.”

“They are worth somethin’.”

“ They are worth a great deal to me, for one
tells me of a happy past, the other of only sor-

. row.”

“ One was give you by a lover, I guesses, and
"t’other by your husban .”

“ You are right.”

“ “'ell, I wants ’em.”

“ No! no! no! You would not take these.”

“ Come, I hain’t no time to lose, for I’m want-
cd’by the police, and to pertect mysel’, I’ll jist
"tie you up, and put a bandage on that music—box
-o’ yourn, so you sha’n’t shout when I its out.”

As he . ke he advanced towar her, and
with a spring he grasped her arm, stifling a cry
with his huge right hand.

At the same moment he fell like a log upon the
floor, struck down by an iron poker held in the
hand of a boy of twelve, who, unseen by the
robber or his victim, had vlided into the room
from the back chamber, closely followed by a
.little 7 irl of ten.

Wit 1 a. bound the woman sprung away from
the man as he fell, While she cried in a voice of
anguish: _

3? Oh, Will, my son, you have killed him!”

“ l have but protected vou, mother,” was the
reply of the bravo boy, W 0 stood over the pros-
trate form. the 1ron,_which he had used as a
weapon, still grasped 1n hls hand.

CHAPTER VI.
A REWARD FOR A CONVICT.

THE boy who had entered the room and dflt
'what appeared to bc a dcath‘blow to the rob .
was a handsome little @110“: 0f tWelve, well-
;grown for his age, Wltll fin agfleafithletic form,
and a face that would wm attention anywhere.

He was poorly (11ml, yet 1119 ('lOtheS were neat.
and he had the look of one_w110 llfld n reared
in reflnénent, in spite of Ins humble and pover-
ty-stamped surroundings. ,

Behind him holding in her little hands her
own and her rother’g books, for the two had
just come from school, was a little, fairy—like
i'orm of ten years.

Her face was bri ht, sparkling and lovely,
with a look of Wisdzom and feeling above her
years, While her attire was neat, ashionably-
made, though of very cheap material, and there

 

was a certain style about her that many a mil-
lionaire’s daughter on Fifth avenue would give
much to possess.

“My son, you have killed him,” repeated the
mother, in a tone of horror.

“ No—no, mother, for I did not hit him that
hard; I don’t think I did, at least, though I was
very angr at seeing him spring at you, and I
am so gla we came.

“ We got a half-holiday this afternoon, and
came in the back door to surprise you, when we
heard that man talking, and I picked up the
kitchen poker and—3’

“ But, “'ill, something must be done, and—”

The Words ended in a startled cry, for the
man suddenly rose up to a sitting posture.

But \Vill was equal to the situation, and rais-
ing his poker he cried out stcrnly:

“ Lle down, sir! quick, or 1 will kill you!”

The half—dazed wretch saw that the boy held
him at his mercy, and he dropped back again in
a recumbent position. .

“ Run, Pearl and get a policeman to come!"
cried lVill, an the young girl darted away,
while the robber started to rise, with the re-
mark:

“ No police for me, boy— Oh i”

Back he fell, as the poker descended upon his
head with a force that again stunned him.

“ Oh, Will!” groaned the poor woman.

“I had to do it, mother, or he would have
killed us both to get away, for he’s a desperate
feIIOW.”

And the fearless boy stood over his prisoner
with the air of one who meant to stand no tri-
fling, and knew very well that he was master of
the Situation.

The man soon revived again, but a motion of
the poker held over him, and a stern order, ke )t
him on his back, for he had twice felt the weig t
of the boy’s blow, and, bleeding from two scalp-
wounds and with aching head, he concluded to
remain qu‘et.

It seemed an a e to the mother and son that
Pearl was gone; ut she had fairly flown to the
nearest pouce precinct, and came dashing into
the room breathlessly. crying:

“ They are coming!”

Again the man moved uneasily, but the boy
said stemly:

“ Don‘t make me hit you again; but I will if
you don’t keep quiet.”

‘f I’ll even up on you some day, DOY» if I go 1’0
EHSOD for ten years!” growled the man: and as

6 SP0“, there came steps upon the stairs with-
out, and a sergeant and two policemen entered,
as Pearl throw 0 n the door.

The ser eant owed polite] , for the appear-
ance of t e lady command respect, and he

1 .

“ Well done, my little man—ha! it is you is it,
Black Buck?” and he turned his attention to the
prisoner, who already was in irons, as the two
ofllcershad lost no time in getting the handcuffs
upon him and placing him upon his feet.

“ Yes, it’s me, Sergeant Daly, and you put a
(:001 thousand in your pocket by my capter,"
was the sullen reply, and then he added:

“ I ’spose you Won’t share it With me fer givin’
mvself up?”

“My boy, this fellow you have caught is an
escaped convxct, and there’s a thousand dollars’
reward offered for his capture, which you can
get liy making an. application for it.”

‘ hank YOU. SlI‘, but neither my son or in)"
self would accept money thus earned, pOOI‘aS We
arc,”ysald the lady quickly.

“ 3: cu know best, madam,” said the surprised
sergeant, whlle the two oflicers also looked
amazed.

"What is your name, my lad?" asked Scr—
geantnDaly, taking out a notebook.

“ W111 Raymond, sir.”

“ And 3’ our name, madam, in full, please?”
and the sergeant turned to the mother.

She choked up at the question, her face
flushed and then paled: but after an effort at
self-control she responded:

“ My name was Ruby Raymond. and since
my husbands death I retain the name for my
children.

‘: 1: 1t neocsmry that I should give another?”

‘ l\o madam, the name of Raymond will do:
but you “‘1” not surely refuse the reward allow-
ed for the cal'Jture of that rascal there!"

“ I (‘aImOt allow my son to accept it, sir.”

“ Pardon me If I Say I believe you need the
mone .” _ _

“ I need It, 311‘. true: but not blood money, for
I could not look upon it in any other way-”

The sergeant bowed, gave a hasty glance
about the rooms. and said to \Vill:

“ Come and see me, my hov, and should you
need a friend at any time ch11 on me,” and the

 

sergeant followed his men and their prisoner,
after bowing politely to Mrs. Raymond.

As the door closed behind t e oflicer Mrs.
Raymond sprung toward her son, and throw-
ing her arms about him, she cried earnestly:

‘Oh, Willie, my noble boy, on have saved
me more than you can ever 'now, for, poor
as I am I would not take a fortune for thi!
ring,” and she held up a solid gold band be-
fore his eyes; but it was not her wedding ring.

CHAPTER VII.
THE LOST GOLD—PIECE.

SEVERAL months have passed away since the
darng attempt of the escaped conv1ct to rob
Mrs Raymond in her humble home, and a
change has come that has brought gloom upon
the mother and her two children.

It may have been the shock she had, when
threatened by the intruder, that caused her to
break down and take to her bed ill; but certain
it is that she was forced to give up her work, she
said for a day or too, and keep her children
h« uue from school.

Little Pearl was a good cook, however, and
Will made the fires and did what little market-
ing there was, so that their mother did not suffer
attention.

Still she fretted, and a fever followed, and
Will went after a doctor on his own responsibil-
ity and placed his mother in his care.

The man of medicine made three visits, and
his pay took two—thirds of the little money the
poor woman had, and she determined to get up
and go to work to earn more.

But she could do but little, and, weak and
wretched she gained strength very slowly.

Then Will went out to 5(0 “ hat he could get
to do, and each night he came in with a few
dimes, earned by blacking boots, running er-
rands or selling papers, and this helped eke
out a subsistence for all three.

Mrs. Raymond seemed not to suffer pain, she
had no fever, but her ailment appeared to be
heart trouble, and night after night she lay
awake brooding over her sorrows.

Surprised, as the days passed, that Will seem~
ed to be bringing in more money each day, she
wondered at it, and questioned him, but he
merely said that he picked it up in odd jobs.

“But, I’Vill, you are looking pale and ha -
gard, and you are working too hard,” she sai ,
seein that he did look wan and white.

“ 0, mother, I’m all right,” he answered,
and so the conversation ended.

But that night Mrs. Raymond could not
sleep, and growing strangely nervous, she went
to wake 11p her son to talk to her for awhile.

To her surprise he was not in his little rear
room adjoining the kitchen, and the bed had not
been slept in.

She awakened Pearl and asked her al out her
brother.

“Oh, mamma, don’t scold him, for he is at
work,” said Pearl, anxiously.

“ Your brother at work, and at night?”

“Yes, mamma. for he has a place as night
messenger in a telegraph office; he goes on at
ten o'clock and gets off at six,” explained
Pearl.

“My oor boy! and this accounts for his
being so lard to wake up every morning.”

“ Yes, mamma; Lut he sleeps ll: the daytime
when he can, and you knowhe goes to bed early,
but I always wu re him 11 at half-past nine
o’clock; and, oh. n nmma! I" ill gets six dollars a
week, only think (f that.”

“And is {killing himself, for he gets not half
the sleep he should have.

“He nuet give, it up, Pearl, for I will not
allow him to ruin his health and slave his young
life away as he is doing.”

“ But, mamma, you are sick, and Will makes
so nmch, and you ought not to work.”

But Mrs. Raymond was firm in her resolve,
and when Vl'ill camc .011“?ng into his little
room in the early 11101111112. he Was astonished at
finding his mother lying in hisbt d, a waiting him.

In vain he argued; she would not hear of his
continuing his night-work, and soVVill Raymond
left his place and looked for something else todo_

But nothing came in his way; times were
hard, and but a few pennies a dav were all the
mother and her children had to lite on.

Will seldom ate at home, saying that he got
lenty at the lunch-counters during the day. and
e left the scanty food for his mother and sister;

but this his mother soon began to dislwelieve. as
the boy looked really ill and was growing thin.

“To-day is Thanksgiving I ay, Will» 50 We
must MVP 11 good dinner,” said Mrs. Raymond
with 11 forced rlnile, one morning, after a m
meager breakfast.

Jean

  

 

.04‘

“ Oh, mammal” said Will, and his heart was
too full to so. more.

“My son, have a gold-piece—a three-dollar
piece given me years ago, and which I have held
on to until now, never counting it in thinking of
my finances; but I wish you to take it and go to
some good market and invest a dollar at least in a
good dinner :” and the poor mother turned away
to hide her tears, for the faces of her children
told her plainly that they were hungry—yes,
ve{}y hungry, as she was herself .

ill took the piece of gold, when his mother
had taken it from its hiding-place, and placed it
carefully in his pocket.

Then 0 started out upon his errand.

He was anxious to have his money go as far as

ssible, and yet secure the best, so he wended
is way to a market, which had often attract-

ed his attention.

Arriving at the market he feasted his eyes
upon bunches of crisp, white celery, selected
some fine sweet-potatoes; icked out a fine
chicken, and then felt in is pocket for his
money.

The marketman saw him turn pale as death,
and then say, in a whisper, which he knew was
not feigned:

" My gold-piece is gone!”

“Have you lost your money, my little man?”
he asked, in a kindly way.

“ Yes, sir; and it is all we have in the world.

“ Ahl here is a. hole in my )cket, and it has
rolled out, for it was a three ollar gold- )iece.

“ But maybe I can find it, sir,” and t e tears
were in the boy’s eyes.

“ If you do not come back, I will trust you for
your Thanksgiving dinner, for I know you will

me when you can.”

“ Oh, thank you, sir! You are so kind!” and
Will bounded away to look for his gold-piece.

But then he remembered that if he went at a
rapid pace it might escape his eye; he walked
slowly, searching the ground at every step of
the way.

Presently he walked bolt up against a gentle-
man who had been watching his approach for
half a block.

“ Oh, pardon me, sir!” he said.

“Certainly, my boy; but you appear to be
searching for something that you have lost?”

The face of the man was full of kindness,
though stern, and his voice had a sympathy in
it that touched the boy, who told his misfortune
to the stranger, adding:

“It was all we had, sir, and poor mother’s
heart will break, I know.”

The man looked like one who had seen the
world, and he dressed as one who had a plethoric
pocket-book.

He was a reader of human nature, and saw
that it was no begging for sympathy that the
boy told his story for.

A man of fifty, perhaps, he was well pre-
served and et there was that in his face that
seemed to in icate that his life had not been all
made u of sunshine.

“ My y, I found our gold-piece, and—”

“ Oh, sirl” cried ill, in delight.

“ Yes, and I took it as an omen of good luck,
this Thanksgiving day, and I meant to devote
many times its amount to charity, of which I
might not have thought but for my finding this
gold- iece.

“ o, I cannot give 1you my ‘luck-piece,’ as I
must keep it; but I wi 1 give you more than its
value, so let us 0 to t e market and get the
things you order , and then, if you will ask me
home with you, I will go, for somehow I look
upon you as a lucky find, my boy.

“ Come, now, to the market.”

“ But, sir, our home is a flat on the top floor
of a tenement-house, and it is so humble, and
we are so poor, you would not like to go there.”
“ I will go, unless you refuse to take me, my

3

“ No sir, I could not refuse one who is so
kind to me,” was the answer, and Will led the
way back to the market.

“Did you find your money, my lad?” asked
the man.

“ Yes, sir, or rather this gentleman found it
for me.”

“ Yes, sir, and I wish you to put up your best
turkey, and other things that I will order, and
send at once to the address my young friend
here will give on.”

ill stood aghast, as he heard the orders, for
flour, tea, coffee, su ar, hams and other things
I were on the list unt' he seemed to feel that his
kind friend was going to provision the flat for a
year to come.

“Now Will, we must take a carriage, for I
am a ’ e lame from the eflects of an old wound
when I was a soldier in the Mexican war,” and a

 

Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker.

passing hack was called, and the two entered
it

Arrivin at the tenement-house the gentleman
bade the river wait, and then he followed Will
up the dingy flights of stairs to the top floor.

Opening the door of the sitting-room Will
ushered his guest in, and Mrs. Raymond arose
from her easy-chair at sight of a stran er.

She looked pale and thin, but very utiful,
and her face slightly flushed as she saw her son
with the visitor.

“ This is my mother, Mr. Ivey, and this, my
little sister Pearl.

“ Mother, this gentleman has been most kind
to me,” and \Vill introduced his visitor with the
ease of one double his years.

The visitor seemed amazed at the lovely wo-
man he beheld before him, and instinctively he
knew that he was in the presence of a lady.

He bOWed low, and advancing held out his
hand while he said:

“ ou must pardon my intrusion, Mrs. Ray-
mond; but I was so fortunate this morning as to
find a three—dollar gold-piece.

“It caught my eye, as it glittered upon the
avement, and picking it up 1 saw that it had a
ole in it, so attached it to my watch-chain.

“A moment after I beheld one I recognized as
the owner coming in search of it, and thus I
made the acquaintance of your noble boy, and
hence took the occasion to also meet you and
his sister.”

Mrs. Raymond was touched by the words of
the visitor, and there was that in his face that
seemed to impress her, and she said:

“You are very welcome, sir, though ours is
but a poor home to have a visitor come, and I
have been an invalid for some little time; but
may I ask, as my son introduced ou as Mr.
Ivey, if you are not Colonel Richart Ivey, who
was known as Dashing Dick Ivey of the Dra-
goons in the Mexican war?”

“ thy yes, madam, that was my name, when
years agg I was a cavalry officer; but have
we met fore that you recognize me?"

“ No, sir, but when a girl I kept a scrap-book,
and yours was among the pictures that I took
from a paper and put in it, and often have I
looked over the book and your face has but
little changed, so I recalled it upon hearing your
name.”

“ You are very kind, my dear madam, and
this is another link of friendship between us that
you should remember me as a soldier, and I be
you will look upon 'me from this day as an o (1
friend, one who knows your sufferin s and our
needs, for I have heard all from Wi , and in-
tend to do for you just what I would have one
do for a sister of mine were she in distress,” and
into the hearts of the mother and her children
came a joy they had not known for many a long
day, and all through Will Raymond’s losing his
three—dollar gold-piece on Thanksgiving Day.

 

CHAPTER VIII.
THE DASHING DRAGOON.

COLONEL DICK Ivar was a bachelor and a
man of vast wealth.

He had been an only son, and the idol of his
boyhood life had been his sister, two years his
junior.

Their parents had been wealthy. and they
dated their ancestry back for many generationS,
and the father of the young Richard had been
anxious to have his son become a soldier, and so
got for him a cadetship at West Point.

A handsome, dashing youth, generous to a
fault, Dick Ivey had won the hearts of profes-
sors and comrades alike, and none of the latter
had envied him the first honors of his class when
he had graduated, while the instructors had said
tbeY were well won and deserved.

here were four persons present at the gradu-
ating exercises that Dick was most desirous of
pleasing, and these were his parents, his sister,
and her.best friend, the young cadet’s lady-love.

But, in spite of his honors Won, the fickle
young lady-love had flirted with the honored
cadet, refused bis proffered love, and became in-
fatuated, as it were, with a brother cadet of her
old lover.

’It cut Dick Ivey to the heart, but he nursed
his sorrow in silence, uttered no complaint, and
went to the border with his regiment, to soon
win distinction as a darifig officer.

The fickle maiden men while married the suc-
cessful rival, and two years after died, it was
said, of a broken heart.

Then news came to Dick Ivey that his sister
was t?» marry, and when he heard whom it was
that was to be her husband, he obtained a fur-
lough and started for his home to warn her

 

 

against the man who had broken tin heart of
his old lady-love.

But, wounded on the way, in a fight with
Indians, he was laid up for weeks, and arrived
too late, for his sister had married the man
whom he now hated with all his soul.

Soon after the Mexican war broke out, and as-
the American army crossed the Rio Grande,
Dick Ivey met his old rival, and learned of his
sister’s death.

Soon after a letter came to him, written by
his sister, and given to some faithful servant to-

ai .

It told of her sorrows. her sufferin s, the
cruelties of the man she had loved, and t at she
too was dying of a broken heart.

At once did Dick IVey seek the man who had
wrecked the lives of two whom he had so dearly
loved, and what he said was terse, to the pomt,
and in deadly earnest. It was;

“You know my canse of quarrel with you,
sir, and that now is no time to settle it, for We.-
belong to our country.

“But. the day this war ends. if you and l~
are alive, you shall meet me on the field of
honor, and but one of us shall ever leave it
alive.”

And all through the war did Dick Ivey win
fame, and he became a hero in the eyes of his.
gallant comrades.

At last the war ended, the City of Mexico was.
in the hands of General Scott, and the Daring
Dragoons, commanded by Colonel Ivey, were
ordered home.

Instantly, he sought his rival, and reminded
him of his words at"the breaking out of hostili»
ties, and the two met in personal combat upon.
the dueling field.

t was a duel with swords, and each man
meant that it should be to the death, that no
mercy should be shown, and it could end in but
one way—the death of one, or both.

_It was fou ht through to the bitter end, and
 Ivey le t his hated enemy dead upon the-

e .

Resigiiing his commission, he returned to his.
home in the State of Mississi pi, and yet he re—
mained there but a short whi e, for the spirit of
unrest was upon him, and the apers teeming
with stories of his career, he sailed for foreign
lands and remained abroad for years.

Again, he returned to America and settled in
an elegant bachelor-home upon a fashionable
avenue in New York city, a man of noble in;-
pulses, yet one upon whose life a shadow had
fallen, and who carried in his heart a skeleton of
bitter memories.

Such was the man who had found Will Ray--
mond’s lost gold-piece, and his CEI‘GiI‘, from a
cadet at West Pomt, to his living a luxurious
bachelor life in New York, Mrs. Raymond
read to her children that Thanksgiving night
after he had left, for the distinguished soldier
had begged an invitation to eat his Thanks-r
givmg turkey that day in the humble home of
the Woman he had so strangely met, and who,.
by some strange accident, had pasted in her»
scrapbook his picture, as a young soldier, and
the scraps of his life history as she ad then read
them, never dreamin she would meet the hero
with the dark, ban some face, dressed in his
gorgeous Dragoon uniform.

To her children then, that Thanksgiving night
after he had departed, Mrs. Raymond read the-
history of the Dashng Dragoon, and he became
to Will and Pearl a hero also in their eyes, and
warm was the welcome that he received when
he came the next day to tell Mrs. Raymond that
he had adopted all of them as protrges, and
meant to ta 'e them to a pleasant home and send
the children to school.

This promise he kept, for he would not be
said nay, and Mrs. Raymond, grown almost
haPYY'faced Willi tl‘e change, moved to a pleas--
ant ittle home in the upper part Of the city.
and Will and Pearl daily attended the most
fashionable schools in the metropolis.

Months thus passed away, Colonel Ivey tak-
ing his Sunda dinner with the mother and her
children at rst, and then calling oftener and
oftener, until one night he called Vi ill and Pearl
to him and told them that he had asked their
mother to become his wife, and that she had
said that she would.

It made them happgafor they were glad to
see joy in the face of t cir dearly loved mother,
and soon after Mrs. Ruby Rliymond became
Mrs. Richard IVey. . .

It was a quiet wedde .111 the cosey home, and
then into the grand {nan-“1011 of Colonel Ivey the
mother and her ('hlldl‘en moved, and sunshine
seemed to brighten all their pathway throu h
life; but alas! Who Can See into the future, w o
can tell how far beyond the sunshine lie the

 

 

Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker. . 'l

 

shadows that must fall u 11 our lives, shutting
out all brightness, encirc ing them with gloom
as black as the grave, and far more cruel.

CHAPTER IX.
PHANTOMS OF THE PAST.
° IT was a pleasant night and Mrs. Richard
Ivey sat alone in the handsome library of her
elegant country house on the sea-shore, for it was
the summer time.

Her face had lost its look of hauntin care,
and her cheeks glowed with health, and s e ap-
peared to be happy once more.

Still there were phantoms of the past that
would rise before her and they would not down
at her biddigg.

She recall her first love, noble-hearted, hon—

 

est Kent Lomax, from whom she had fled to be—

come the wife of a man who had proven himself
a wretch, a villain.

She recalled her hap y home, her loving pa-
rents, and wondered lip they had ever forgiven
her, for she had not heard one word from them
since her flight, and she knew not the scene that
had followed, when Kent Lomax had met Schuy-
ler (.‘luctt upon the field of honor, and had fallen
before the bullet of the man she had married.

She had told Colonel Ivey all b"fore she had
married him, and he had but loved her the more
for her confession and the sorrows she had known.

‘ He had told her, too, that in the pleasant fall
of the year, they would all go down to Maryland
on a visit, and see the old home and her parents,
and ask that she might be foi'gchu.

As she sat alone in her home she was ponder-
in<r over the past.

er husband had gone off on a business tripto
the far West, Will was away upon a yachtin
cruise, for he had become a skillful and devote
yachtsman, his stepfather havin presented him
with a beautiful craft, and Fear was spending
the night wlth a little playmate who lived near.

Presently a footfall was heard in the hallway,
and Mrs. vey supposed it was the butler, about
to close up the house for the night, so that it did
not disturb her, but she started when the words
fell upon her ears:

“ Mrs. Ivei , I believe?”

“ Oh, God!”

The cry came like a groan of anguish from the
lips of the woman, as she turned and beheld the
form of a man standing before her.

He had entered the mansion unseen had
walked into the library unamiounced, and was
within a few paces of her.

His appearance was that of a gentleman, and
yet one whose life was a fast one.

He was well dressed, in fact almost flashin
attired, wore a diamond in his shirt front, an-
other upon the little finger of his left hand, and
a heavy watch chain crossed his vest front.

He appeared to be a man of forty, and his
face was handsome, his eyes piercing, yet a cer-
tain cold look, added to recklessness and a cyni-
cal smile were not prepossessing.

“ You had not expected to see me again,
Ruby?” he said in a voice that was tinged with
a sneer.

“ I believed you dead,” she whispered, for she
seemed scarcely able to articulate.

“ Yes, for so I sent You word.”

“ You sent me wor ,” she said, repeating his
words. .

“ Yes. I got a l of mine to come and see
you.,and t36H You ngv I had been smashed up in
a railway accident.

“The SmaSh-up was true, and I had to
broken, and 18. for weeks in agony; but
well, and here am.” ’

“ 011 Why dld you do me this cruel wrong?”
she groaned. . .

“ To accompllsh Just what you have done i”

“ And thatisf”

“ That, believmg me dead you might marry,
for I knew your beauty would turn the head of
some old millionaire fool as it has done.”

“And this was your plot?”

“ Certainly,” and he tom} 3 seat near her.

“ What is your pUI‘POSG?’ She asked in a voice
hardl audible. , ,

“ ot to claim my Wlfea I assure you.”

“I would die before I would again live with
you; but it breaks my heart to feel that I have
committed this crime against the noble man
that made me, as he supposed, hlS wife, for we
both felt that you were dead.” .

“ And wished me so?” he said Witha sneer.

“Indeed I did, though God forgive me for
telling“ the truth.”

“ Well, you see I am by no means a dead man
and. as I have no desire to die of starvattm
have come to you.”

“ To me?”

u es.”

leg
got

 

 

“And why?"

“ You are rich. ”

“ I am worth nothing, only such as my hus-
band ives me.”

“ ell, you’ll have to strike him for a loan on
my account.” I

“ What do you mean?”

“ I need money.”

“ I cannot help you.”

“ You must.”

“ I will not.”

“ Listen to me, Ruby, and don’t be silly.

“You have broken the laws of the land, in
marrying Colonel Ivey when you hada husband
living.”

“ I believed you dead.”

“ That does not excuse you, and besides, I can
bring up witnesses to swear that you knew me
to be. alive!”

“ Oh, monster!”

“I can do it, and that will prove your guilt,
so you see, you are wholly in my power.”

“ What do you wish of me?”

“I wish, as I said, some money, and I will
give you a reasonable time to get it for me.

“ If I get it I will go far away and never ap-
pear again to disturb you; but, if I do not re—
ceive it, I Will simply make my presence known
to your husband and destroy you.”

“ It will but drive me again into poverty and
wretchednes<, for I will not live a lie to that
good man, and shall tell him all."

“ You are a fool, Ruby.”

“ I was a fool when I became your wife.

“ I did not love you, though I believed that
I did, and I soon found out that it was but a
fascination, such as a serpent has over a bird.

“ from my happy home, I deserted a
true, honorable man, and became your wife,
not to be acknowledged as such, for you hid me
away in a little village, while you led a life of
dissipation in Philadelphia, still believed to be
a bachelor by your friends.

“In that lonely life I lived, and my children
were born, and, with no friend near, mine was
a wretched existence.

“Deserted by you, with my children, I went
to New York to earn my living, and thither you
followed me, and I had to give you all thatI
had saved 11 , and on gambled it away.

“ Again ( eser by you, I sought to hide
away Where you could not find me, and I be—
came prosperous, in a small way, by 59“ng the
work of my hands; but again you found me,
took my little earnings and went West, and
soon after I heard of your death.

“Believe me, Schuyler Cluett, wicked as it
was, I rejoiced that I was free, for I believed
that I was.

“ And now you come again, when I felt that
life was not all shadow, and you demand that
I rob my husband to 1191'“ you.”

“I am your husband, Ruby, and I need help,
and shall have it.”

“ Not from me, sir.”

“ Yes, from you.”

“ I say nol—for I will tell all, and defy you.”

_“ I Wlll first see him, tell him who I am, and he
Wlll y me to keep quiet, for the man leves you.

“ or the sake of yourself. and of your chil-
:(llI'Olll‘, ,you had best decide to give me the money

as .

She was silent, and lost in deep thought for
fullla minute, while he watched her face nar-
row .

At last she said:

“Schuyler Cluett, you know that I would
give much to have you never cross my path
again; but your coming has unnerved me, and
I am not myself. ' .

“If I give you money, without telling my
husband all, it would but be robbing him to

v you.

“If I tell him, I believe he would pay you
as on demand; but yet, with you alive, and
hormowmg it, I could not remain here as his
M e.

"So go from me, and I will decide when I
can collect my thoughts.”

“ I W}“ give you just one week.”

“It is long enough, for I will not need so
mllPh tlme; but do not come here.”

“ No, I will give you an address in the city
that wlll reach me, and you can appoint a place
of meeting when you can give me the money.”

“ If I (l(‘l'l:le to do so.”

“ Oh, no fear about that, for you will decide
in your favor. and for your children, for 15
would be ‘1 blg scandal, on know, to come out;
time—but I’ll not remin you, so here is my ‘
dress, and I’ll bid you good-night Mrs. Ivey,”
and he left the room as silently as he had enter-
ed ir, and the poor woman was again alone With
the phantoms of the past.

 

 

CHAPTER X.
DESERTED. '

COLONEL RICHARD Ivar came back to his
eligant home, from his trip to the West.

e had tele aphed to have the carriage meet
him at the rai way station, but to his surprise it
was not there, and so he sprung into a village
hack and drove homeward.

It was dark ere he reached the mansion and
his surprise was greater when he saw no lights
to greet him.

‘ Why Ruby must have gone up to the city;
but she wrote nothing of intending to do so, in
her last letter,” he said, as he sprung out of the
vehicle and paid the driver.

Ascending to the piazza he rung the bell, and
soon a light flashed within the hallway, and the
butler opened the door. -

“Well, Richard, what is the matter, that I
receive such a bleak welcome?” he said.

“The madam is away, sir, and has been for
some days; but she left a letter for you, sir, and
it’s on your table with the mail.

“ I’ll have lights, sir, at once.”

The mansion was soon lighted up, and supper
ordered for the master, who went into his
library and took up the numerous letters that
had arrived for him during his absence of
several weeks.

All were thrown aside excepting one.

That one here no stamp or post-mark, and was
from his wife.

Hastin he broke the seal, and seeing that it
was several pages in length, he threw himself
into his easy-chair beneath the lamp.

As he read, he uttered a sound very like a
moan, and, strong man though he was, his hands
trembled as he held the letter.

When he had finished he slowly re- read it, and
then bending his head upon his hands he sat
thus, the picture of silent, manly grief.

What he read was as follows:

“ Soana’s Rns'r. l
“September lst, 18—. I

“ Dare 1. in this letter than I now wriie you, ad—
dress you as n heart would dictate and call you
my own dear Ric lm‘(l?—f01‘ such you are to me. and
ever will be. though a cruel blew CflllStS me to fly
from you

“The other night I sat alone in your library in
your pet chair.

~‘ Will was away in his yacht, on a cruise for a few
days. and Ptarl was spending the night with a little
girl friend.

“ Suddenly a visitor entered the library.

." To my horror, it was one I (let med dead, years
a o!

g" ut no not dead. alas! l ut alive, cynical, sneer-
ing, cold~hearied, cruel, lie stcod before me.

‘Dressed well. wearing diamonds, yet a beggar
for gold.

" Need I tell you that it was my [rub/ind!

“Need I tell on that he had chPivcd me in his
death, and mi me that he had purposely done so,
that I might, by m ' beau! '—such were his words-—
win arich husban and t en he could force from
me gold to kee ) my secret.v

“Such was his mission to me, and he den anded
a large sum that he might dissipate it in his luxuri-
ous life.

“ He promised to ,o from me and never return did
I give him the sum e demanded.

“Did I refuse, he said that he would go to you,
and you, for honor's sake, to save scandal. would
buy him off.

“Again, he said he would tell )ou that I knew he
was al.ve and y( t married you.

“So, in my grief I begged him to give me time
for thought, though I then knew what my course
would be.

“ He gave me a week to consider, and, confident
that I would yield, he left.

“He judged me by his own guiltv heart and felt
safe in his threats to divulge the secrct ( f his bdng
still aliw.

“When he was gone I fell in a swoon upon the
floor, and tin-re Richards f. und me when hr came to
put out the lights.

“The maid revived me. and I passed a night of
biiter agony; but I was decided as to what I should
do, and I told the servanis that I had heard bad
news. and must go away. perhaps to be gone a long
time.

“I did not care to say more, that Iwould never
return, for your sake.

"Then I began to get ready, and that day Pearl
returned home.

“The next day Will came back from his cruise
and I told my children that we must go.

“I told them that II was no quarreL no wrong of
one of us against the other, only duty forced me
away
“ had in my purse something overs hundred dol-
lars, Wthh YOU had Riven me f« r charity. y: u re-
member, and I devoted it to charity to myself. for
“'8 830 BS or 88 We came to you otherwis and it is
because would not feel right in taltiiig hem-you
one dollar when I know that man lives.

“To-mormw we leave for New York in the early
train. and I shall go to your city mansion and get
our cld traps there, and place in the Safe pepost
the jewelry and other valuables you have given to
us.

 

     
 


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Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker.

 

 

“There is one souvenir I keep, the ring you and I
supgosed to be our wedding ring. '

‘ hat I shall wear. though the lie stares me in the
face' but it was placed there in honor ill so doing.

“ ere I go you will not know, for I shall not
wish you to ad me, which your heart, I feel, will
tempt you to do.

" I go my way as before. to earn our bread by my
handiwork, and I am strong now aild in good health,
after the happiness that has come into my life, and
I can hear much.

" God bless you. will be my prayer, and the prayer
of my children. Richard, for you have been to us all
in all, and to give you up is a pang that cuts deep
into the hearts of us all.

‘ Farewell. Richard, and ever believe in the love,
though it be ill shackles of
“ Yours unha ily,

" UBY Chunrr.”

Such was the letter that Colonel Dick Ivey
read, and it was no wonder that he felt deeply

. the blow that had fallen upon him.

—-i

For a long time he remained in silent grief;
and then he raised his bowed head, and already
suffering had made his stern, handsome face
hag ar .

‘ he is as pure as an angel, and she shall not
leave me.

“ I will find her, cost what it may, and to-
morrow I will go to the city, and set the
wheels of the Secret Service in motion to find
her and her children.

“ Then she shall get a divorce from this wretch,
for, innocent thing that she is, she does not know
that she can readily do so, under the plea of
desertion.

“If not why, I’ll ham to make a widow of
her and then marry her,” and the face of the
colonel proved that he meant what he said, while,
after a moment, he added:

“ It strikes me that a man who has been such
a wretch as this fellow is, has done that which
would place him behind prison bars, and perhaps
stretch his neck, so I’ll put the detectives upon
his track, and see what they can discover of his
past career ;” and with this determination Colonel

vey sought the supper room now cheered with
the thought that his separation from those he
loved was but temporary.

 

CHAPTER XI.
A REBUFF.

SCHUYLEB CLUETT waited patiently for the
time allowed his wife, in which to write to him,
to s, and no letter came. '

hat could it mean? Had she lost his address?
Did she intend to defy him?

These questions chased each other through his
mind over and over again, and he could find no
answer.

But he waited another day beyond the allotted
ime, and then determined to solve the in story.

To do this he would go to the house of olonel

IvIer.
9 first sou ht the residence of the colonel in
the city, and ound it closed up.

This proved that the family had not returned
to town.

So he started for the country, and in due time
reached the station near Soldier’s Rest, as the
home of the colonel was called.

He took a hack and started for the villa, leav-
ing the vehicle at the gate, while be advanced
on foot, having told the driver to wait for him.

It was a lordly place, a grand mansion, sur—
rounded by spacious, ornamental grounds on one
side, flower gardens in the rear, a lawn in the
front, and a park upon the other side.

The grounds sloped down to the walk, and
there were pleasure boats to invite to a sail or
a row.

The View from the piazzas was beautiful ill the
extreme, and altogether a more charming coun-
try tiome could not be found than was Soldier’s

q

“A place for a gentleman of my taste to live,
this,” said Schuyler Cluctt, as he walked up the
grand path to the mansion.

“By Jove! a brigllt idea strikes me, and I
hope I am not too late to carry it out.

‘ Let me see: if I should keep in the back-
ground, that is, out of sight, and get rid of this
gallant colonel. that is, let him meet with some
accident to cause his death, why my wife would
be his heiress, of course.

“ Then I could come in, and after half a year’s
mourning I could force her to marry me, for
appearances’ sake, and I’d have all.

“ I was a trifle too fast in appearing as I did,
and not thinking of this little game before. '

“Now it may be too late. for she may have
told the colonel about me, as she has not appear—
ed, and he may sim 1 back her up in getting a
divorce from me, w ch she can do.

 

“ Well, here I am, and there he is. '

“ Now I must put a bold face upon the matter
and survey the fort to see if I can take it”.

He had gotten himself up in his best style, and
Colonel IVey, seeing a well—dressed stranger ap-
proaching, arose to meet him.

The colonel bad that noon returned from the
city, where he Could find no clew t0 the where-
abouts of Ruby and her children; but he had set
the best detectives on the truck and was hopeful
of soon discoverin r them.

BoWiilg to the Visitor, the colonel advanced to
meet him.

Schuyler Cluett bowed politely and asked:

“ Is this the home of Colonel lvev?”

“ It is, sir, and I am Richard Ivey, at your
service.

“ Be seated, pray, or will you enter the
house?”

“ Thank you, sir; my name is Cluett, sir, and
I am an old friend of your wife, and have called
to see her, being in the neighborhood.”

“ Indeed, sir; I am really glad to meet you,
Mr. Cluett, so be seated, pray, for it is pleasanter
here than indoors.”

Schuyler Cluett sat down. But he hardly
knew what to say.

It seemed evident, from the colonel’s manner,
he thought, that his wife had kept her secret,
for he did not appear to be known.

“I hope Mrs. Ivey is well, sir?” he volun-
teered.

“ Well, sir, as to that I cannot just say, as
she is not at home; but I ho so.”

“ Indeed! She is absent t en?”

“ Yes, sir, she has gone far away, she and her
children, and as you are an old friend of hers,
I do not mind telling you that it is on account of
a g‘rlalndscamp whom she once married.”

0

“Yes, Mr. Cluett; she was infatuated in her
girlhood by some wretch whom she ran off with
and married, and soon found him out to be a
gvthhless vagabond, a gambler and all that was

a .

“He robbed her, deserted her, and sent her
word, through a confederate in guilt that he had
been killed, and so believing him to l)e dead, she
married me.

“ But he turned up during my absence West,
tried to get her to rob me, to buy him off from
telling the secret of his still bein alive, and she,
too noble to do so, fled from my ome, from me.
and has gone far awa , while I am left alone.”

“ But you can fin her, sir?” eagerly asked
Cluett.

“Yes, I hope to do so, for, I’ll tell you a
secret.”

“ Yes, Colonel Ivey.”

" I have the detectives at work, tracking
down this rascally husband, and I have found
out enough about him already, to give her a
divorce, by sending him to States Prison.”

“ Oh, Sir, can you do this?” and Schuyler
Cluett turned deadly pale.

“ 0h es, I hope to: and more, for I don’t
mind to ling you, my dear Mr. Cluett, as you
are my wife’s friend, but you must keep the
secret, that there was a mysterious murder some
time ago, for the murderer cannot be found.

“ But this husband—I do Wish I could recall his
name—”

“ Raymond, sir.”

“Yes, Raymond, that’s the name, thank you.

“Well, he was in the viCiiiity when this inur—
der was committed, and I think men can be
bribed to swear that he was guilty, you know,
and I’ll give a fortune to buy a jury up, so that
he can be hanged, and—but )vhy do on rise,
sin, for surely you are not going?” am the Colo-
nel 100ked up with surprise, as Cluett arose as
though to de art. _

“ Yes, sir, I) must go, for I Just recall an im-
portant case I have 'to try, as I sin a lawyer,
colonel, and our stiry of your wife’s former
husband reca led it to my memory.”

“ But you will remain my guest, sir, for the
night at lcast, and I’ll go up to the city with
you in the morning, as I will have this rascal
arrested at once, and I think the law will make
short work of him.”

“ It should, sir, it should. and 1 have no doubt
it will: but good-by, Colonel Ivoy, good-by, sir,”
and Schuyler Cluett hastened away from the
mansion, reached his waiting hack, and taking
out his watch said: _

“ Driver, you have Just twenty minutes to
catch the Express up to the city, and if you do
it I’ll give you a ten—dollar bill extra.”

“I’ll do it, sir,” replied the driver, and the
horses were sent along the highway at a pace
that surprised them, as their usual gait was a

jo . '
ind looking after the rapidly disappearing

 

vehicle, Colonel Ivey muttered to himself, as his
face wore a grim smile:

“Well, I think I frightened him so that he’ll
hunt a hiding-place in the far West, and I only
wish I did know that he was deserving of the
penitentiary; but I’ll telegraph the detectivo
chief to have men at the depot to meet him and
see just where he oes, and what hodoes, so as
to be repared for im should he remain in New
York,’ and eiltcrin his library COIOnel Ivey
wrote a long dispatcfii to the chief of the detec—
tive service, telling him to have men on the
watch for Schuyler Cluett, giving a .full de
scription of the man, and by what train to ex
pect him.

This message was then sent post—haste to the
station-agent to rush through with all dispatch,
and Colonel Ivey felt relieved at having, as he
believed, gotten rid of Ruby’s rascally husband.
from whom she could now easily get a divorce,
under the plea of desertion and non-support for
years.

 

CHAPTER XII.
THE BOY CAPTIVE.

LET me beg the kind reader, who has followed
me through my story thus far, to recall an im-
portant (persona e who was left a prisoner, in
the ban s of a and of wicked men who were
evidently hiding from the officers of the law.

In that ho ca tive the reader has doubtless
recognized V ill ymond, for his mother had
not taught him the name of his father, Schuyler
Cluett. .,

When he had been addressed u on the street
by a eutleman, and sent on an important mis-
sion, 6 had been entra , for his face and age
just suited a purpose that was to be carried out
through him.

What that purpose was will soon be made
known.

The time of VVill’s capture was some months
after the fli ht of the mother with her children
from the e egant country mansion of Colonel
Richard Ivey.

So well had Mrs. Raymond, as I must now
again call her, concealed herself, that the
police and detectives, put upon her track by
Colonel Ive , had been unable to find her where-
abouts an it was believed that she had left
New York for another place.

In an humble home, in a cheap uarter of the
city, the r woman had foun an abiding-
plaee, for it could not be called a home.

The rooms were but three in numPel‘. and not
so pleasant as those where she had lived in pov-
erty before; 'but they were kept scrupulously
clean, and were not uncomfortable.

As soon as she was fully settled, Mrs. Ray-
mond aid her rent for six months in advance;
then S e laid in a store of proviSions, and pur-
chasing paintin materials, 8 am began to paint
little pictures or sale, for s e had but a small
suni left of that which she had brought with
her, and she must be in to earn more, she knew.

But the shock 0 her husband’s return, as
though from the grave. had hoe-n a severe one
and she felt that she was by no means a well
woman. ' .

Gradually her nerves failed her, the main-
springs of life, and she became almost a con-
firmed invalid, unable to do but little.

Will and Pearl had again begun attendin the
nearest ublic SChOOI, but, as the spring reW
near and) Mrs. Raymond’s health failed her more
and more, her little daughter had remained at
hbme with her. Whlle hH‘ brave boy had given
up his studies to earn what money he could. and
this was but little. hardly enough to give them
food, and, but for Mrs. Rayn'ond having Pald
the rent, it would not have lecn sufliCIent to
meet all (kW-finds. moderate as they were. .

It; was while Will was skirmishing around In
search of a stray penny to earn, that he had
Struck what had appeared to him a “ bonanza,”
in the rcmise of a couple of dollars for deliver-
ing a etter and keeping his mouth shut, at the
same time afflicting hirnsp]f with loss of mem.
ory, as the one who paid him for his alleged 501‘-
viccs had demanded that he should.

th‘n. therefore, Will found himself a pris-
OW‘l‘i the reader can well imagine hls feellngs.

Brave boy that he was, his first thou: ht was
of his sick mother’s distress at his absence, and
his second of himself.

It flashed upon him, from the WOI‘ds of Jerry,

the Night Hawk, the secret inanller of his gain-
ing admission, the letter which had led him into
a trap, that he was meant for some mysterious
purpose of villainy. _
, The room in whichhe found himself had but
one door, that by Whlf‘h lie had entered. and the
ceiling ran up With the peaked roof, in which
were skylights for light and am

\.

 

 

  
  

 

 

Wizard Win, th

  

‘ 1'

e "Wonder Worker. 9 '

 

 

 

 

It wasa large room, occupying one side of the
house, excepting where the little ante—chamber,
cor hallway was taken off, and about the sides
were berths such as one sees in a steamboat’s
cabin.

Acu board was in one end of the room, filled
with ishes, and next to it was a dumb—wuitx-r

that came up from the IOWer depths somewhere. t
'On the op; osite side a door was 0 cued to ;
what ap ared to be another cupboar , but in 

which ill saw at a glance a ladder, leading to
an open skylight above.

In the center of the room was a large table
with chairs about it, and seated in various atti-
tudes about it were a dozen men, who scowled
viciously upon the boy as he was dragged into
their presence by Jerry, the Night Hawk.

But Will, in spite of his perilous position,
kept u a brave manner.

‘ W at did ther kid come here for?” asked a
man with a scowling face.

“ Captain Cruel sent him, and writes that he’ll
do for the little '0b to play on the Philadelphia
man whose son died on our hands, and thus cut
us out o’ the reward,” said Night Hawk Jeri-y,
who seemed to be a leader of the band of
ruffians.

“He looks it sart’in, and I thought it were
Billy come ter life ag’in when I seen his face;
but will he do it?”

“He’ll have to Jack, or—” and the look and
action of Night Hawk Jerry were most si iifi—
rant, and did not escape the eyes of Will y-
mond.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
PUT TO THE TEST.

Barons more could be said by any of the
band, a bell rung over in the dumb-waiter, and
two men at once stepped to the cupboard and
began to place dishes upon the table, prepara-
toriy to havm supper.

ill was to d to sit down on a chair, and the
comigg meal, rather than the boy prisoner,
seem to occupy the thoughts 0 the rude
gathering.

By the time that the table was set, with a

plate, knife, fork, teacu and spoon for each, »
l;

and a dish of butter and rge bowl of su ar in
the center, a second ring came at the (umb-
waiter, and up from the depths below appeared
the supper.

The two men, whose duty it seemed, put the
supper on the table, and it was by no means a
repast to be refused, for there was hot coffee,
milk, hot biscuit, steak, potatoes and preserves.

Will was told to “Take a seat youngster, and
pitch in, for you don’t know how soon yer
rations will be cut short.”

He had eaten but a light breakfast, and noth—
ing since, so be obeyed the injunction with a
gusto, winning the admiration of the men at his
pluck in not losing his appetite when his fate
hung so in the balance of uncertainty.

But Will had made up his mind that though
he was in a tight place, he would not despair,
"but find some way to get out, and the means of
doing so did not worry him until the time came
for action.

He had intelligence, strength and pluck be.
youd his years, and the ups and downs of life
had taught him much, while he was a good
reader of human nature, and, living amid the
slums of the city, he knew a great deal of its
{vreiitchednesa its sins and its people, good and

iaz .

He had read the papers, and he knew that al-
niost under the eyes of the police there were
bands of (Nd men Who would rob and kill with-
out mercy to gain gold.

That he had fallen into the hands of some
such wicked men he _did not doubt: but he did
not deSpair 0f WOI‘klng out his own salvation
in some way. Wham he was assured just what
“their game was what they intended to win by
playing him as a trump Card.

Will ate his supper With apparent relish,
and rising, thanked them pOhtely and resumed
his former seat. ,

“ You’ve been well I‘m-“ed, boy,” said Jerry.

“Yes, sir; I have a {:00‘1 mother, and she is
sick now and will be anXious about inc—so
please tel me if I have to Stay here long.”

“ That de nds, lad.”

::U hntw at?” ”

a is our name?
1 “Will Ray 03d, sir." said the boy, returm
“lg to his 01 name, for while with the colonel
he had taken that of Ivey, at his request.

“ at {10 you do?"

“Anl’thmfi I can earn money at to support
my suck mother and little sister.”

1 You’ve seen better days, I guess?"

YES, 311‘; We have not always been so poor."

 

“ Well, how would you lile to become a rich
man’s son ?”

“ I don’t know what you mean.”

“ The captain sent y0u heie because you re—
sembled somebody, didn’t he?”

‘He gave me a, letter to bring to you, and
said you would give me two ddlars for doing
the errand.”

“ Well, that was a bait to get you here; but,
if you do as I say, you’ll do better by far than
make two dollars.”

“ What must I do?”

“ Do you  this photograph .1” and he held up
a picture before Will of a small boy, perhaps
seven years of age. '

“ Yes, sir.”

“How old are you?”

“ Nearly fourteen.”

“ lYell, this photograph was intended for

011.

y “ Oh, no, sir.”

“Boy, you asked me what you must do, and
I am going to tell you.”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ Don’t interrupt me.”

“ No, sir.”

“ This photograph looks just as
years ago, and then your name was
more.

“Your home was in Baltimore, or rather near
it, and these are photographs of the place, and a
handsome one it was.

“ Here is the house, here pictures 0f the
grounds, all taken by an itinerant photographer.

“ You had them in your home at the time
you were kidnapped, for you must remember
that on were stolen when you were a little boy.

_“ on went out in the groundS, just here, run-
ning away from your nurse, and two men, pass-
ing along the highway in a buggy, took you
with them.

“ They carried you far away, treated you
well, and took you to a farm in too West, where
one day I found ou and you told me your
story and I immediate yrecognized you as a boy
stolen years 0 and whose photograph I had
often seen ub ished in the papers.

.“ Your ather, Mr. Rossmore, is a very, Very
rich man, and he has offered fifty thousand dol-
lars for your return, and I will get it, while you
Will be raised in luxury, and, being an only
ghlld, you Will inherit all of your father’s for-

une

“ Now, my boy, I wish you to study these
photographs of your 01d home, and here is the
name of the servants who were at the house then,
and your nurse was an old colored woman,
Auntie Peggy.

“ Then on had a pony named Nip, and a dog,
aZ _1arge ewfoundland, that bore the name of

1p

ou did six
illie Ross-

were stolen; they are re ged now, for you wore
them a long time, and wien you got others you
kept these.

“ You had this ring on your forefinger then,
but you can wear it now on your left hand little
finger—see, it Bust fits.”

“ What has iecome of the real little boy that
was stolen?” asked Will, quietly.

The men all exchanged peculiar glauces with
each other, and one said:

“ Tell him, J erivy, so that he’ll know we won’t
stand any nonsense.”

“ Well, he would not behave as we wished him
to, and he would remember too much, and SO we
dargd not take him back to get the reward, you
see.

“ And is he dead?”

“You’ve hit it, he is, for one day he left our
cam , as we were crossing the prairie in No-
bras a, not very many miles from Fort McPher-
son, and we found him lying under a solitary tree,
mighty near (lead from starvation: and he died,
and we buried him there, cutting his name into
the tree, as a monument, as anv emigrant folks
would who had lost a young one.”

“ Poor little fellm 7, he had better have done as
you Wished, and so been able to get home.”

“ BOY.7YOH’\'e got wisdom above your years,
and youll play our little game for us with a
handful of trumps and a card or two up vour
sleeve, I can tell you. a

“ I guess Y9ll’Ve been nipped by hunger, and
wish a 30“ thlng of it for life, don’t you 9”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ And you’ll talk our way, won‘t you?”

“ Oh, yes 511‘: Only it will be very sad for my

r mother and sister to lose me.”

“ No, for you can write them that you had a
chance to go West, and I’ll take. the'lt‘lffll‘ and
some money to them, and you bet we’ll keep
them from want and send them lots of things.
while if you don’t like it where you g0, you can

“'These are the clothes you had on when you '

 

 

ust skip out after you’ve got together a nice
ittle sum of money, for We don’t care so long as
we get the reward for your return, and you
shall have five thousand of that, for I’ll keep
you posted where we are, and you can have the
money any time you call for it.”

“T is looks fair, sir; but I hate to leave my
mother and little sister, though I do want to
make money.” ‘

“Well, you write your mother a letter, and
I’ll  that she gets it to-morrow, and I’ll put a
cool fifty in it for her, too.

“ Now, write your letter, and then study over
these )hotographs, this list of names, and the
lesson have here for you,” and Jerry handed
“’ill various slips of paper.

“Now, lad,” he continued, “if you play this
game right, you‘ll get all I say; but if you play
us false, you’ll be knifed sure, so just hear that
in mind.”

“ I don’t wish to die, and I’d rather be rich
than poor, if I can take care of my mother and
sister. and they don’t find out I am deceiving
them.” - ,

“They’ll never know it, lad, and it was a
lucky find the captain made in you, for you look
just what we want, and have got the sense to
play the game through.

“ I tell you, though, we had a time with
Willie Rossmore, up to his death three years
ago, for we had to travel about with him, hide
him, watch him, and were going to take him to
an Indian camp to live for a year or so to make
him. forget, when he ran off and died on the
prairie.

“ But you look like him exactly, though you
are older by a yeai‘or so, but that don’t make
any difference.

“ Now there’s a pen and ink, and here’s your
lesson to study, while we play a game of
cards.”

Will sat down at a shelf that served as a desk,
and began to “study his lesson,” as Night Hawk
Jerry had called it.

He wrote a letter to his mother, and at last
the men began to turn in, each one going to his
bunk, while the boy was also given one, and
crawling into the berth, appeared to be sound
asleep, while the last man retiring put out the
lamp, and only the light from the stars, twin-
kling through the skyli hts, pervaded the large
room, and t e sonorous reathing of the sleepers
soon showed that, guilty beings though they
was; no twinges of conscience kept them
aw e.

 

CHAPTER XIV.

WILL PLAYS HIS LITTLE GAME.

LYING in his little bunk, which was an upper
one Will Raymond did not go to sleep.

He saw the men drop off one b one, from
their card playing, he watched t e last one
up draw on the ropes, to raise the skylights and
let in more air, and, as he came to the one near
him, he feared he was going to see if he was
asleep, so he closed his eyes and breathed hard.

But the man drew on the rope. that raised the
skylight, some ten feet above Will’s head, and
then putting out the lam he went to bed.

Still gazing u ward ill saw the stars fade
from view. an the skylights rattled, showing
that the clouds had 0 scured the sky and a
wind was springing up.

Until all seemed to be asleep, Will lay uiet
asa mouse; then be bent over the edge 0 his
bunk and looked about him.

He had left his shoes on the floor. and hung
his jacket upon a chair, but otherwise he was
dressed.

Then too he had placed a bundle in his bunk,
before he got in himself, and this he tiu’ with a
twine string about his waist. ‘

Raising himself then to a kneeling 1‘1“.  l e
saw that the ladder, before referred to z : . oiug
upto a skylight, was right by the tom of his
berth.

Softly he arose. grasped one of the rounds
and drew himself up.

“'ithout the slightest sound he ascended the
ladder, crept up through the skylight and found
himself upon the peak of the high roof.

He well knew his danger, that if he was dis.
covered. the band would kill him, as he believed
Willie Rossmore had been killed, instead of hav-
ing diedlby starvation and exposure.

Standing up he glanced about him, and his
eye fell upon nothing but roofs.

He saw that thf‘ building on which he stood
run back some distance from the street, was
very high. narrow, and ended fifty feet away in
a la rge chimney.

On each side of the sharp reof were Slats. a.
foot from the top, evidently placed there to

.. . :._,_. ..
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10 Wizard Will, th/é

 
     

 

Wonder Worker.

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serve as footguards in a walk toward the chim-

ne .
The clouds, black as night, were now fl ing
low, and skuri'ying along before an approac ing

storm.

The lightning came in vivid flashes, and it
was enough to a pall the heart of a seaman,
there on that big perch, where the slightest
misstep would hurl him to death, the tremor of
a nerve would dash him to his doom.

But there was death behind him, sure, and a
struggle against death before him, with chances
of the boy’s triumph, so he held on in his deter-
mination to escape.

He knew that the men had placed those slats
along the roof for some purpose, and that there
was a wa to escape from the roof he did not
doubt, so e determined to find it.

With the bundle at his back, tied with astring
about his waist, bare-headed, bare-fwted, jacket-
less, the brave boy stood on the dangerous perch,
to return to the outlaw band certain death, to
advance a chance for life, while the lightning
fairly blinded him, with its _vividness.

Step by step the boy advanced toward the
chimney, for he dared not tarry there lon , as
any moment the storm might awaken the nd
Sharks as Will had heard she band speak of
themselves, and, if missed, he would be pursued
and taken.

But he had arranged his bedding so as to look
like a form in his berth, and placed his jacket,
shoes and hat so as to be seen, if he was suspect-
ed, which he did not believe. -

As he took the first step the rain began to de-
scend in torrents, and a sound behind him caused
him to turn his head uickly.

He saw that the sky ights were being lowered
by some one in the room and he breathed more
freely as he felt that he had not been dis-
covered.

But the driving rain into his face, blinded him,
as he had no hat to shelter his eyes, and the
slats and roof being wet, rendered his position
far more rilous.

But on 0 went, step by step, until he reached
the chimney.

It was breast high to him, and he noticed
that it was very large.

From there down to the ground was a long
wa , and he saw no means of descending.

Pyerha 5 upon the other side there was a lad-
der, het ought, and again it came to his mind
that the men might have a rope ladder to bring
with them.

If this was the case he was doomed, and, the
thought in spite of the driving cold rain made
him break out into a dense perspiration.

Leaping upon the chimney. for his experience
as an amateur sailor had helped him, and he
had often gone on board ships at the wharf
and ascended to the highest point he could
reach, he gazed over the side of the brick-
work to see if there was aught to aid his
descent.

But he saw that the roof was even with the
chimney, so no ladder could go down it,

“They must hook a rope-ladder into the
chimney in some way,” he muttered and he
ran his hand around inside to find the hook, de—
termined to tear his clothing in strirs and make
a rope, but what he would escape. .

“Ah!” he said, as his hand touched a piece
of iron.

“A ladder inside,” he cried, joyously, as he
felt rods of iron going down as far as he could

reach.

Instantly he lowered himself into the chimney
and commenced the descent.

Feeling with his feet he found the rods, two
feet apart, and down he went into the gloom.

One thing was certain, the chimney was not
used as a smoke—conductor, for there was no
soot in it.

Down, down he went into the darkness, only a
shadowy light showing the opening in the top of
the chimney.

He had counted twenty rods, and so knew
that he must have descended some forty feet.

Then his feet touched bottom, and turning, he
saw the glimmer of a light through a crack.

Stooping, he gazed through the crack and
looked out into a room dimly lighted, the gas
being turned down low.

He saw that a fire-board hid the open chimney
in which he stood. and moving it out he beheld
the interior of the room distinctly. _

There were two windows, one on either side of
the fire-place, and he heard the wmd rattling
the sashes furiously, and the rain pattering
Viciously against the panes of glass. .

There was a stove before him, but it was evi-
dently there for show, as the smoke-stack enter—
ed the chimney, yet no soot was in it, which

 

proved that a fim‘could not have been lighted
in

it.

A table with b<0ks on it, some pictures on the
walls, a clothes-frees, and over on one side of a
door was a bed, while horrors! there was a man
in it. i
The occupant of the bed was asleep, that was
certain, his fate turned toward the wall, as V! ill
cogld see by the dimly-burning gas-jet over the
ta le.

To escape, the boy saw that his only chance
was to get out of is hiding-place, cross the
room, unlock the door, and thus get out; but
when out of the room would he be fme?

This was the startling uestion he asked him-
self, as he grasped the reboard to push it one
side, determined to at once make the venture,
for he did not know at what moment he mi rht
find a pursuer coming down the chimney on is
track. __

CHAPTER XV.
THE BOY GUIDE.

THE reader can fully appreciate the peril of
Will when they know what was behind him, and
that he had a room, unknown to him, and with
an occupant asleep in it, to cross, before he got
out, while be little knew where the door would
lead him, or whether he would be any nearer
escape than where he then was.

Cautiously he raised the fireboard from within
and began to move it outward as though it
swung on a hinge.

He did this noiselessly, and soon had space
enough to get through.

This he ( id and rose to a standing posture, the
little bundle still at his back.

Then he put the fireboard back in its place and
ste ped forward.

he floor creaked and startled him, and he
walked quickly to the door.

As hereached it the sleeper started, turned in
bed, raised his head and glanced toward the
window, while he muttered:

“ What a deuce of a storm is ragin .”

Then back dropped his head, and he did not
see the boy crouching down within two feet of
him, and who held, grasped firmly and ready for
use, a boot-jack, that his hand accidentally
touched.

Had the man attein ted to get out of bed, or
had he glanced towar the boy, he would have
felt the weight of the boot-'ack, for Will was
determined to escape at all azards, even if he
had to strike at human life, for he did not doubt,
coming to this room as he had from the den of
the Land Sharks, that the occupant was one of
the band.

But, fortunately for the man he dro ped off to
sleeplagam, and fortunately, too, for Will, who
mig t have made a miss blow and then been
killed or captured.

As soon as the heavy breathing of the man in-
dicated that he was once more asleep. Will turn-
ed to the door and placed his hand upon the

ke .

He turned it slowly in the lock, and yet it
creaked loudly to his ears; but the noise of the
storm without drowned the sound as far as wak-
ing the sleeper was concerned.

Taking hold of the knob he drew back the
latch, and moved the door.

It creaked loudly, so he shut it to quickly as
he saw the man move uneasily.

He kept still, and the man once more breathed
naturally in his slumber.

Drawing the key from the door Will then
Opened it quick] and stepped outside, closed it
after him, though trembling at the loud creak-
ing sound it made.

At the same time he thrust the key in the
door and turned it, just as he heard the man
spring out of bed.

here he was he did not know, for all was
blackness about him, but he at once moved
away from the door. feeling his way cautiously,
while he could hear the occupant-of the room
moving hastily about, and then grasp the knob
of the door.

A smothered curSe followed the words:

“ The key is gone!”

Then there was a shaking of the door, and
Will nearly fell down a flight 015 stairs; but
caught himself on the rail.

As he hastily descended there appeared a
crescent-shaped light before him, and he knew
that it was over a door, and a moment after he
reached it.

It was locked, but the key was. on the inside
and hastily he turned it, and he could hardly
restrain a shout of joy as he found himself out
in the street.

The storm was at its hight. the rain was
pouring in torrents and the narrow street was

 

flooded; but the darin boy cared little for
that and turning noted 6 house and number.

Then he darted away, unmindful of the rain.

At the corner he saw the name of the street,
and once more pressed on, seemingly acquainted
with the locality and aiming for a certain point.

Not even a policeman was seen out in that
driving rain, so the boy met no human being as
he ran along up to his ankles in water.

Here and there a light burned dimly, evident-
ly in some sick-room, and all else was darkness,
excepting the flickering street lamps on the cor-
ners. '

Turning into another street he came in sight
of a colored lamp, jutting out from a large
brick house.

Toward this he ran and a moment after, drip-~
ping wet, bare-headed, shoeless and jacketless

e arted into a room where sat several officers
in police uniform while one wearing the badge
of a captain of the force sat behind a desk in a
small adjoining room. .

The boy a peered like an apparition to the
officers, but e gave them no time for thought,
as he said:

“ Is not that Sergeant Daly?" and he pointed
to the officer in the other room.

“Yes, it is Captain Daly, for he‘s been pro»
moted,” answered an oflicer.

“ Ho, Murphy, any one to see me '1” called out
the captain.

“ Yes, sir, a boy that looks as if he‘d just
swum across East river,” was the reply.

“ Ah! I know that face, you are “’ill Ray~
mond, who ca tured the conVict for me over a
year ago,” saii Ca tain Daly coming out.

“ Yes, sir, and I ve come to tell you a strange-
story, and guide you to the den of a band of out—
laws that call themselves Land Sharks for I 'ust
escaped from them,” and Will spoke quic ly,
though with not a particle of excitement in his
manner and voice, so well did he control his.
feelings.

The name of Land Sharks caused the police-
resent to gather near at once and appear deep~
y interested, while Captain Daly said:

“ If (you know the hiding-place of that gang,
my la , you know more than any policeman or
detective in New York has been able to find
out.

“ I do know it, sir, and two ways of getting
there; but what you do, you n'mst do now, as
they will escape, so I’ll tell you all I can while
you get your men ready, and there are over a
dozen in the band.”

“Murphy, call up twenty men and a sergeant
at once.

“ Now, Master Will, for you see I have not
forgotten your name, let me have your story.”

In as few words as possible, Will told of his.
having been stopped by a well-dressed stranger
and then sent to the den of the Land Sharks, as
an excuse to get him into their clutches.

Hismanner of getting there, and his reception
he made known, together with his acquiescence,
as the outlaws su posed in their plot to get the
reward offered or Willie Rossniore, the little
son of the Baltimore millionaire.

His escape, bringing With him in a bundle,
the photographs, and Well-worn clothing the—
kidnapped ho had on when taken, he also made
known, and t ey were displayed before the po-
lice captain, Who‘sald:

“ These can wait. and will dry by the time we
get back; but Will, you are a natural born de-
tective, and you shall have work as such, that
will keep your mother and sister from want; but
here are my men, my brave boy, and we will
start at once—ho! I forgot that you were wet
as? shivering, but I’ll soon make you comfort-
a e.

An order to an attendant brought from a
packa e room a thick suit and india-rubber coat,
into w 1101] the boy had no difficulty in getting,
as they were nearly double his size, and a police—
man’s hat sheltered his head. ,

Then, side by side with Captain Daly, and
With a score of policemen following" they Ste
ped out into the drivin rain to go upon the raid
against the Land Shar 3.

CHAPTER XVI.
THE RAID. I
THE first point of destination of the lice-
Squad, was to the door out of which Wil had
made his escape, and he led the men directly to

it.

It was unlocked, as he had left it, but four
men Were left there, and the others followed the
boy around to another street, where was the
number at which he had entered the den.

“ I’ve made no mistake in this number, but
yet it don’t look like the place," he said, as he»
stopped before the door_

 

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Wizard Will, the Wonder Worker.

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“I be you have made no mistake, my lad,”
anxiously.3 said Captain Daly.

“ I know I have not, sir; but then I can’t find
the be ._”

In vain. he searched, there was no bell at the
side but instead a large old-fashioned knocker.

“ his is a white door, sir, as you see, and the
other was painted brown.”

“ Then you are certainly mistaken, my lad.”
“ o, sir, I am not mistaken, for this is the
number, but—”

“ But what?” asked Captain Daly, as lVill
paused.

“ They have taken out the bell from the side,
sir, and changed the door, since I left.”

Several of the licemen laughed, but Captain
Dal did not, an said:

“ f you say so, Will, I’ll believe you.

“ Your dark lantern here, Gibson.”

The man addressed handed over his lantern,
and Will ran the light up and down the door-

“ Here’s where the bell-knob was, sir: and it’s
been plugged up as you see, by something that
fits in.”

“ You are right, Will,” and the captain gave
the knocker three sharp blows.

But no response came, and Will said:

“ They’ll not answer, sir, for they’ve changed
this door to fool me, and. they know I’ve escaped
from that man I locked in his room.”

“ All right, we’ll open the door ourselves.

“ In with it, men 1’ .

Half a dozen policemen threw themselves
against the door: but it withstood their weight,
undlthe locks W115th only yielded after repeated
tria s. ,

Then the (loonflew open, and all entered the
hallway, closmg it behind them.

The next door then confronted them, but Will

inted out the panel, and a club smashed that
in, when Captain Daly put in his hand and
drew back the bolt.

“This Is a secure nest, that is certain; but I
fear we’ll find it deserted,” said Captain Daly,
and With their lantern-shades raised, they hasti-
ly followed Will up the stairs.

He went directly to the door by which he had
entered, and the panel was opened with a club,
and the officers dashed in, and throwing them—
selves against the inner door, it yielded to their
weight with a. crash.

Then they found themselves in the large living
room of the band, from whence Will had made
his escape. »

The bunks were there, the table chairs, dumb—
waitcr, and much clothing and bedding was
scattered about, showmg a hasty departure:
but not a soul was present.

“ \Vill you follow down the chimney, sir?”
asked Wi l. ,

“Yes, I will follow Withseveral of my men,
while the remainder break in every door of this
nest, which is, indeed, a safe retreat.

“ Come, men, I want only those who have cool
heads on loft places to go, for, from what he
ltlold ipe, it will’ require all your nerve to follow

im.

Four of the officers volunteered, and up the
ladder went Will, be having in the mean time
idecovered his hat, shoes and jacket from the

oor.

Out upon the roof, in the drenching rain, the
boy stepped, and made his way fearlessly alongl
the dizzy hight, followed by Captain Daly an
his men, who step with the greatest caution,
for they realized t- eir deadly peril at a glance.

Fear essly the brave bo led the police captain
and 1115 men, the chief ca ling out:

“ Go slow, Will, for a false stop here will send
us to perdition 2” _

Reaching the chimney, Will sprung upon the

to and dlsap red in. the interior, the others
fO owmg, an descending the iron ladder 1n
silence.

Down‘to the fire-place went Will, and the in-
stant after Captain Daly Jomed him, and hand-
ing the boy his dark-lantern to spring Open, the
two hastily sprung out Into the room.

It was deserted, but the door was partly open,
for the lock had been wrenChed Ofl'.

The pictures were on the wall, the bed all
rumpled up, and the lamp_VVa§ upon the table.
while there was every indication of a hasty de-
parture, as in the assembb' room-

hen the police went on a voyage of discovery
through the house.

It was an old-time mansion. tWO Stories, nar-
row in build, and ran back against the one on
the Other Strwt. to which the false chimney be-
longed, and in it were some half-score of poor,
but reputable lodgers who, aroused by the po-
lice, were amazed at t e raid upon them.

In answer to inquiries, they said that the

 

 

room on the rear, through wlich the officers had
come, was occupied b an artist, the had heard,
though no one seem to know muc about him
other than that he had a numoer of visitors.

That there was a secret connected with his
living there they had not suspected.

Confident that the lodgers of the house told
the truth, Captain Daly left two of his men on
duty there, and started around the block to the
other house.

He found the party still on guard at the door,
and they had not seen nor heard anything of a
suspicious nature.

Going around to the other house Captain
Daly found that his men had thoroughly search-
ed the place from the cellar to the attic.

They had discovered the door which Will had
remembered to have seen in front, and as it was
still dripping wet it shOWed that it had been re-
moved that night from its place, to throw the
boy off his guard, but it had, however, failed to
do so.

In different rooms of the house was found a
quantity of stolen booty, the loss of some of which
Captain Daly and his men had heard of, and
there was every indication that it was a nest of
burglars Of a daring and desperate nature.

The Land Sharks had long been known to the
police for their bold acts of crime, yet they
never before could be located, and even the

uffest of the policemen praised Will for what

e had done.

Dawn was now breaking, and a neighbor,
coming out of his house, was asked who owned
the premises.

He said that his landlord did so, and iving
the address, the proprietor of the tWO ouscs
was at once looked up; but he was amazed at
what he heard, for be rented the pro rty to an
Old woman who said she wished to eep board-
ers, and had regularly paid her rent three
months in advance, and had built a new chim-
ney and made other improvements which she
had paid for herself.

The landlord was greatly amazed to find what
those improvements were, but he could give no
clew as to who or what his tenant was, or
where she could be found.

Having discovered the secret retreat of the
Land Sharks, however, was a cause of con ratu-
lation and the booty found was considers )le, so
that Will was praised for his good serviceS, and
at once told that he was to consider himself a
member of the Secret Service, and to report the
following day after he had become rested, for
the. night of ril and hardship the good-hearted
police captain could see had told on the brave

O .

{Vith a heart bounding with joy, Will had
hastened home, and his mother and sister
greeted him warml , for they were most anx-
lous regarding his ong absence, and with won-
der they listened to the strange story of his
adventures, while Pearl cried in glee:

“ Hurrah for the Boy Detective!”

 

CHAPTER XVII.
0N SECRET SERVICE.
THE day and night of rest which Will took,

he really needed, for his capture, escape and

lfinrd Work. had indeed been a severe strain upon
1m.

Captain Dal had picked up a roll of bills
in the Land Siarks’ rooms which some one of
them had dropped in their haste to get away,
and he had insxsted upon IVill’s falling heir to
the money, though the boy had urged against it.

There were only about twenty dollars, but it
wasa large sum to “fill. and he handed it over
to his mother, so that when he awoke from his
1011i! 51999» he found a splendid dinner ready,
for Pearl had been to the market and spent the
{ivehdollar bill given her with no economical
ian .

The mother and her children greatly enjoyed
their dinner. and Will then told his mother that
Captain Daly had said that his pay would be
thirty dollars a month to begin with, and all
felt cheered at the prospoct, and retired with
lighter hearts than they had had the past few
weeks.

Upon reporting at the office of Captain Daly
the next morning, Will received a warm we]-
come from all, and was congratulated over and
over again upon his nerve and the good services
he had rendered.

“NOW. Will," the captain said, “I find
that Mr. Rossmore, a retired merchant

'of Baltiimi’rta lost a son Willie some six years

ago, and still offers large rewards for his l‘n: Stor-
ation. .

“ From what you heard from the Land Sharks,
you know more than any one else about the

 

matter, and the boy is doubtless dead, as they"
stated, and the evidently murdered him.

“Now I wis you to go to Baltimore with\
these clothes, the photographs and the ring, and.
see Mr. Rossmore, telling him all, and directing
him to the spot on the prairie, as well as you can,
where your friend Night Hawk Jerry said the—
boy was buried.

“ Will on go?”

“Certainly sir, for I am ready to do just
“Shit yep wis , if you think I am ableto accom»

is it.

p “ You are able to do a man’s work, Will, af-»
ter what you did to extricate yourself from the
clutches of those Land Sharks.

“ Now I will give you the mone for your
trip, and you had better get a sache , a suit Of'
clothes and some other things, and get your
mother to pack them for you.

“Here are twenty-five dollars to fit you out
with, and I’ll give you the money for your trip
when you are ready to start.

“ And here, my boy, I had almost forgotten to
give you your badgeof office: it is a gold one,
and presented to you by the officers of this pre-
cinct.

“ “'0 would make it a public dc monstration,
only we do not wish it known outside that We.
have made a new departure and enlisted a boy
in the Secret Si'l'\'l(‘(‘ force.”

As Captain Daly spoke, he pinned under the»
boy’s coat a handsome gold badge, a shield, upon
which was engraven:

“ SPECIAL OFFICER
of
METROPOLITAN SECRET SERVICE.”

“I will prove deserving of all your kindness,
Ca tain Dal y,” said Will, with a choking voice,
am he sallied forth to make his purchases.

This done, he took them home. and Mrs. Ray~
mond packed his little grip-sack, while Pearl
was lost in admiration over the old badge.

“'ith the shield fastened secure y upon his vest,.
beneath his coat, and his sachel in his hand,
Will bade his mother good-by and started for the‘
precinct to get his final orders.

These were given him along with a well-filled
purse, and Captain Daly went with him acrOSs
the ferry to see him on card the train.

As he took his seat alone in the sleeping car..
which the kind-hearted captain had provided
him with, Will felt his own importance, and his.»
heart was full Of gratitude that he had, by his~
own acts, become able to earn a support for his.
mother and sister.

Arriving in Baltimore, he went to the hotel to
which Ca tain Daly had directed him, and, af-
ter break ast, with the photographs and clothing
of the kidnapped boy wrapped up in a bundle, he-
made inquiries as to where the home of Mr. Ross—
more was, and set out to go there.

He found it without much difficulty, a superb
country seat in the outskirts of the cit ', and he
recognized at a glance the scenes of t e photo—-
graphs he had with him.

A gardener was at work upon a bed of flewers,.
and approaching him, Will asked if Mr. Ross-
more was at home.

“ No, young entleman, they have gone to
their farm fora ew weeks on the eastern shore,”'
was the answer.

At once Will determined to follow them there,
and after getting the directions, he asked:

“ Has Mr. Rossmore ever heard of his missing
child?”

“ No, indeed, not a word, and it’s my opinion
he never will. as I think little “‘illie is dead;
but master thinks he‘ll find him yet; but Lordy'.
von hain’t Master “'illie, are you, for you do

ook ’mazing like him.”

“ My name is Willie, but I am not Mr. Ross-
{Jnore} son, though others have said I look like

im.

“ You do for a certainty, sir, and master and
his wife wdl see the likeness, I’m sure, if you
are oing there.” .

“ es, I am going there, for it is important
that I should see them,” and bidding the old
gardener good-by, Will returned to the otel and
discovered that a boat left the next afternoon
for the town nearest the Rossmore farm.

So he went d0wn to the wharf and secured his
berth, and amused himselflooking about the city
until time to go on board the next day.-

He had a pleasant state-room, and, as he made
himself at home in it, he felt that he was becom-
ing quite a traveler.

Enjoyifli the run down the Chesapeake, it was
late whe e retired, and he drOpped ofl‘ quickly
to sleep. ulled by the motion of the boat.

He was awakened by the hum of voices, and
saw a light in his face, strangely like the glare.
of a bull’s-eye lantern.

 

 

 

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the Wonder Worker.

 

 

1

But he at once saw that it came through a
knot-hole in the partition between his and the
next state-room, and within a few feet of him i
were two men, one lying in the berth, the other
seated upon a chair, an they were talking in a
low tone.

Without stopping up his ears, \Vill could not
but hear all they said, and the voice of one .
M‘t'llN‘d familiar.

Putting his eye near the knot-hole, to his sur- '
prise he recognized the man in the berth as :
.‘\' ight Hawk ferry.

The face of the other he did not know.

What he heard them say was as follows:

" Well, Nick, We can go and strike old Ross-
:nore for all we can get out of him, after we at-
"tend to this farmer on board that I tcll you has
the cash he got for a boat-load of cattle he took
up to the city and sold.

“ He stopped at the same hotel with me, and
when I tol him I was going down to see Mr.
Rossniore, he told me he lived near him. and
directed me how to get there, while he said he
would ask me to ride out with him, only he had
come to the village where he boarded the boat
on horseback.

“ Now we can get a rig and drive out ahead
of the farmer, lay for him on the road, and just
take in his pile, which goes up into the thou-
sands. I am sure.

“Then we can go to see old Rossmore and see
what we can et out of him, under promise of
brin 'ng him is boy."

“ ou think he’ll put up anything?” asked the
[man addressed as Nick.

“ Yes, he’ll put 91in something, though he’s
been very freely bl by frauds; but, if it,had
.not been for our being taken in b that boy Cap-
tain Cruel picked up in New York and who was,
I admit, just the fellow if he had not pla ed us
false, we’d have got a clean fifty thousan from
Rossmore.”

“ The boy got your crib raided, you told me?”

“Well he did, and but for our pal who slept
in-the exit room. wakin u as he did, wed
have all been caught, for t e ioy led the police
upon us in an hour after he got away.”

“ He was a sharp one for a kid.”

“ Now Nick he was; but you must 0 and
turn in now, and to-morrow, as soon as t e boat 5
lands, we’ll hurry ashore and get a wagon to I
.head off the farmer.”

" Good-night, Jerry.” i

“Good-night Nick,” and the latter )ersonage !
left the state-room of his fellow vi lain, and
sought his own quarters, while Will, scarcel
havin breathed as he Overheard what was sai< ,
plac a pillow against the knot-hole, and tried

'to go to s eep.

But in vain, for his brain was too full of
“thoughts, and it was nearly dawn when he at
last sunk into a deep slumber; but he had
formed a plot in his fertile mind to thwart the
two rascals in their bold game of double robbery.

CHAPTER XVIII.
BEADED OFF.
AFTEB hearing what he had, Will was most

 

 

 

:anxious to remain unseen, for he knew that;

Night Hawk Jerry would recognize him very ‘
quickly, and that would spoil all. ‘

So e feigned sickness. had his breakfast
"brought to his state-room the next morning, and
then, as the boat landed at the town where the
two conspirators were to leave it, be grasped his

I gri sack and cautiously went forward.

he men leaped ashore, when the gangplank
was run out, and \Vill followed them at consid- i
verable distance up into the village.

There were quite a number of passengers, so
that the boy was unable to select the one against
whom the robbers had plotted. ,

But he watched his men, saw them go to a :
livery stable, and soon after ride out of town at ]
a gallop. 1

nstuntly he went to that same stable, and a ‘,
few min tes afterward was in a buggy with a i
driver, )ing on the road which the robbers had |
taken, f r the livery man told him how he had
directed them.

By fast driving he came in sight of them, and
then he told his man to draw rein and wait,
while he got out and went ahead on foot. I

By keeping close in to the woods he kept out of. !
sight of the robber pair. and saw them turn into i
a thickly-wooded point at a bend in the road, 1
where the underbrush was very dense. [

r

 

“ That is their ambush.” he muttered to him-
self, and he returned to the buggy, getting in
just as a horseman appeared coming along the ‘
road.

As he drew near, Will saw that he was a fine- !
looking man With athletic form, and a kindly l
get strangely stern face.

He was well dn’ssed and appeared to be a
well-to-do country gentleman, and the boy re—
membered to have seen him on the Chesapeake

‘ steamboat.

As he drew near to where the buggy was

.ii'aitiiig‘. he said pleasantly, recognizing the
. negro driver:

" \Vcll, Hercules, out for a drive?” he said.
“ Yas, Mussa Lomax, I is takm‘ dis young
geiiiman on a lectle drive, sali,” answered Her-

cules, who had gained his name from his great i
3 strength. -

“ Pardon me, sir, but may I have a word with
you?" said \Vill, politely.

“ Certainly, young man,” replied the farmer.

“ You came down the bay on the steamer last
night with me, sir.”

“I came down on the steamer, but I do not

i remember to have seen you, though your face is

strangely, so strangely familiar to me,” and the
farmer gaZed fixedly into the face of the boy.

“ We have not met, sir; but may I ask if you
did not take up to Baltimore a cargo of cattle
and sell them there?”

“ I did.”

“Well, sir, I overheard a plot between two
men last night to rob you on your way home
this morning.

“ My state-room adjoined theirs, and a knot
in the wooden partition had fallen out, or been
pushed out, just at my head, and I saw the men
and heard their plot.

“ One of the men is a noted New York creek,
and I am anxious to capture him, while his com-
panion is doubtless a Baltimore thief.”

" You surprise me, young sir, and I thank
you most sin-erely, for I have with me quite a
arge sum of money, and taken at disadvantage
I might lose both it and my life, though I am
armed.”

“These are desperate men, sir, or at least I
know one to be, and I am determined to capture
him if ssible, for I can get him held until a
requisition from the Governor of New York can
be. obtained.”

The farmer smiled at the words of the youth,
and said:

“ You are a plucky fellow, and we had better
send for a constable from the village, for Her-
cules will go.”

“ I am an officer, sir, and I have formed a
plan to capture them,” and Will opened his coat
and showed his badge, not only to the farmer’s
surprise, but to Hercules’s great awe and admi-

‘ ration.

“Well, my youn friend, what is your plan?”

“ To tie my hand erchief about my face, and
muffle up, laying back in the buggy as though I
was sick, while drive by the point of ambush,
which is at the bend in the road above here.

“ When I get by, I will leave the buggy with
Hercules, and we can get close back to the place
of ambush, and you can come along, and as the
men approach you, we will be close on their
tracks.”

“ A good plan. my lad; but let us know each
other as we are to act together.

“ lV y name is' Kent Lomax: I am a farmer,
and live not far from here.”

" My name is Will Raymond, sir.”

“ Raymond!” and the farmer started.

“Yes, sir.”

“Where are you from 2"

“ New York, sir.”

“ Ah, me! Your name recalls the strange re-
semblance your face bears to one I once knew,
and it is strange, indeed, that face and name
should be so alike.” and’the. farmer spoke in a
voice that was full of sadness; but in an instant
he continued in a different tone:

“Well, Master Raymond. I am glad to be as—
sociated with_you in this little affair, and vou
are the captain, so go ahead with your plan. ’

After a few other arrangements the boy drove
on in the buggy with Hercules, his face tied up.
a scarf about his neck and his'hat drawn dowu
over his eyes.

But his kocn eyes were watching the road as
they drove along. and be detected in the bushes
the two men in ambush.

As agreed upon with Kent Lomax, Hercules
dropped his whip and sprung out to {rot 1t, $0
that be, watching back down the road. should
know just the spot where the robbers were,

Then the buggy drove on, and once around the
bend they turned into a secluded Spot and at
once, sprung out and hitched the horse, While
they crept up a ravme, which Kent Lomax had
told them would lead them almost to the bend in
the road.

“ They could not have chosen a better place
for us to surprise them,” said Will as he hurried
on with the negro,

“ No, massa, (lat am so, and I awful glad I

i cum with you, for maybe I git suthin’ out 0’ die
I scrimmage,” returned Hercules. _ .
“ You shall, Hercules, and I hope it Will be
1 gold rather than lead.”
; “ I don’t want no lead, massa,” and Hercules,
‘, picked up a stick, to serve as a club, as they went
a ong. "
I Soon they came to the end of the ravine, and
; creeping up to the top of the bank, Will looked
4 over.
He quickly drew back his head, for the two
,: men were not sixty feet from him, standing be-
; bind a clump of bushes on the edge of the road.
‘ “ You see um, massa!” whispered Hercules.
“ Yes; and Mr. Lomax is already coming, and
but a couple of hundred yards a\\ay;” and Will
 took from his pocket a small revolver, but of
large caliber, and glanced at it carefully. »
i “ Now I’ll watch. Hercules, and you be ready
to run out with me.”
' “Yas, massa.”

In silence then they waited until, suddenly, the
words were heard:

“ Halt! Your money or your life!”

“ Come!” and with the Word “'ill and Her'
cules bounded from the ravine.

They saw farmer Lomax at a halt in the read,
one man asping the rein of his horse, and the
other be] ing a pistol up in his face.

The farmer sat perfectly quiet, and the men
each had a handkerchief over his face, with holes
cut in to see through.

“ Come, out with your money, and lose no
time, if you value your life!” sternly ordered
Jerry, the Night Hawk.

The farmer thrust his hand into his pocket,
drew out his well-filled wallet, and tossed it upon
the ground, just as clear and sharp came the

c .

I")IHands up, Night Hawk Jerry!”

The two men uttered a or ' of alarm and
turned, to see the boy and t e negro almost
upon them; and recognizing Will, Night Hawk
fired.

The bullet clipped a hole in Will’s hat-brim,
and at that moment the boy pulled trigger, just
as the robber fired a second s! 0t.

Down dropped Night Hawk, a dead man, for
VVill’s bullet had pierced his brain, while at the
same moment Kent Lomax had hurled himself
upon the other robber and held him at his mercy.

“I was sorry to have to kill him, but he
shot me through the hat, for I felt it turn on my
head and his second bullet cli my arm,
but guess did no harm," said ill.

“My boy, you are worth your wei ht in
gold; let me see if you are hurt,” an Kent

iomax turned his man over to Hercules, while
he drew off the boy’s jacket and rolled up his
shirt sleeve. .

There was a slight gash on the left arm that
was not of much consequence, and Kent Lo-
max quickly bound a handkerchief about it,
while he sai( : _ . _

“ You will need no requiSition for your man,
Master Raymond, while this one we will give
into the hands of the village constable.

“Hercules, mount my horse and ride back to
the village for the constable and the Coroner,
and I wiIl remain here With this oung man,”

The negro de arted, while Wil said:

“My erran .here, sir, was to see Mr. Ross—
more upon an importatant matter, and I am
anxious to catch the boat back to-night, so I
might drive on to his farm and get back here by
the t.me the constable arrives, if you do not
mind.”

“Certainly not, and Mr. Rossinore lives on
the road a mile from here.

‘ ‘ You will come to a bridge crossing a stream
with a mill upon it, and the Rossmorc place is
just beyond on the hill in full view.” .

Thanking the ‘farmer Will sprung into the
buggy and drove on.

As he reached the bridge he came tq a halt,
while he said:

“Why, this is the. very scene that mother
painted and gave to Colonel ‘Ivcy.

“ How strange licr iainting should be so like
a rcal scene way down ere on 111“ custom shore
of ltIarylund,” and, wondci'mgnttlzc coincidence,
Will drove on up to the lmnnsomc country home
on the hillside. .____

CHAPTER XIX.

UNKNOWN KINDRED TIES.

LITTLE dreaming that he was approaching the

‘ old home of his mother, her birth-place, and that

of her mother before her, the home from which

she had fled that, to her, fatal Christmas eve,

Will Raymond drove up to the hitching-rock
and sprung out of his buggy.

A gentleman sat upon the piazza, smoking a

 

 

 

 

 

. V -\ .. I, . . Anny»?

" R. my" " "

Wizard W111, the Wonder Worker.

Niau'l.‘ 9r“-

13

 

 

 

 

 

cigar and reading a paper, but arom at his ap—

proach.

“Good-morning, young gentleman,” he said
pleasantl , and then his eyes became riveted
upon W' ’s face.

He was a man of fifty perhaps, with noble
countteynance, tinged with sad‘ ness, and a look of
name .

“ ‘yrboy, who are you?” he said, quickly, be-
fore ill could speak.

“ IS this Mr, Rowmore?” asked Will.

“ es, my son."

“ name is Will Raymond, sir, and I am a
special, officer of the New York Secret Service,
sent to see you upon a matter of interest to

ou.” .

“ About my lost boy? Quick! tell me if you
have any news of him whom I must say you
most closely resemble, and—”

“ I do rewmble your son, sir, and so much so
that a gang of scoundrels were to use me as a
foil to make money out of you. ”

“But you are not my boy?” He would be
about your age, and look like you, I think,” and
Mr. Rossmore was greatly excited.

“ No, Mr. Rossmore, I am not your son; but I
have come to tell you all I know of him, and I
am sorry to sa that you must give up all hope
of ever seeing im alive.”

“ No! no! no! I cannot, I cannot!” and Mr.
Rossmore listened to the whole story that Will
had to tell, from his meeting with the man who
had sent him on the errand, to his killing Night
Hawk by the roadside.

“And Mr. Rossmore,” continued Will,
“when I escaped from the den of the Land
Sharks, I brought with me the clothes, which
they said your )y had on when stolen, and his
ring, and they were to bring them with me, to
prove that I was your Willie.

“ I will get them,”.and going out to the buggy
he returned with his sachel, and the clothing
and ring were exhibited.

“My poor, poor boy! those are indeed his lit-
tle amt and ring; how well I remember them;
but, my 1101319 boy, ‘I must see the ave that
they say he was buried m on the prairie, before
I give up all hope. .

‘ If it contains the remains of a small child, I
can but believe, and besules, \Villie had his
left arm broken when a baby, by falling from

' . the lap of his nurse, and this will identify the

bones as his.

“ Oh, may Heaven’s anger fall on those who
murdered my little boy!” and Mr. Rossmore
bowed his head with grief, just as a lady, whose
locks were prematurely ay from sorrow and
suspense, came out upon t e piazza.

‘ Husband, I have heard all, and I believe at
last that our boy, our little Willie, is dead,” she
said, and turnin to Will, she greeted him
most kindly, wh‘ e she too was struck by the
likeness 0f the young detective to her son.

“Have you arents, my be , and a home, for
gladly would give you one,’ she said to Will.

“Yes, my noble boy, come to us and be our
son,” cried Mr. Rosamore,

“I have a mother and sister living in New
York, and I am their on] support, and 1 must
return to them, though 1 bank you most kindly
for your g offer to me,” said Will. touched
by the grief and generosity of Mr. Rossmore
and his Wife.

“ Well, my boy, I would not rob your mother
of you for worlds, but you must let me help you,
and if you ever need a friend come to us, for we
live all alone here, and are strangely restless
since the loss of my boy.

“We have traveled abroad, but came back
soon to our Baltimore home, and then we have
come here, for this place was the home of my
wife’s cousin and adopted Sister, whose fate is a
mystery to uS, and a sad one, for she ran away
from home one night, fifteen years 0, leaving
behind her that noble man. you sav . from rob-
bery. Kent Lomax. ’00 W110"! She was engaged.

“She deserted him for a Villain, a man whose
life Kent Lomax had saved, and she fled with
3:0 rascal to Philadelphm, and Was followed

ere.

“Kent Lomax tried to avenge. the double
wrong, for the poor girl’s mother died from the
3110018 and the villain Shot hiiii. and for months
he lay at the point of death, and, “[1011 he re-
cOVared all trace of the Inan was 

“Years after her father died. and my wife

‘ here now has the estate, which will be hers un-

\, less her adopted sister returns to claim it, or her

| children do, if she has any; otherwise Mrs. Ross-

! more is the next heir.

l ” So .you see, Wherever we go, we have 88d

} memories to confront us; but here both of users

3. well and more content than elsewhere, 80 We
ofteinome; but I am detaining you with family

 

 

 

 

 

history, when you are anxious ‘to return to the
scene of your afl’ray down the road, and I Will
ace npany you. .

" ife, please send the carnage after me,”
and so sa ing Mr. Rossmore got into the buggy
with Wil and drove back to where Kent Lomax
had been left with the dead man and the bound
prisoner.

On the way Mr. Rossmore asked:

“My son, do you think you could find the
grave of my little Will, from the description
you had of it?”

“ I think so, sir.”

“ Will you go West with me and find out?”

“ If I can get permission sir.”

“ Well, you can telegrap what you have done
to your chief, and ask permission to go with me,
and I will have my family physician accompany
us, for he set Willie’s arm when it was broken,
and could tell if it was my child in the grave.

“But we will talk more of this, for there is
farmer Lomax,” and a moment after the drove
up to the spot where Kent Lomax s , while
coming in view at the same time were a num-
ber of persons on horseback and in buggies.

Hercules and the constable rode in advance,
and as the rode up and dismounted, Kent Lo~
max intr uced Will to the officer of the law,
and his story was again told, the coroner stand-
ing near with a jury which he had selected from
the crowd.

All gazed upon Will as a hero; but the boy
shrunk from observation, and remarked to
Kent Lomax:

" I hate notoriety that comes from taking the
life of a human being, villain though he was.”

“ That is the pro r spirit, my lad; but the
coroner wishes to as you a few questions, and
then I would like to have you go home with me
as my gUest, while I also desire to compensate
you in some way for your services to me.”

“ Thank you, sir, but I am paid for in duty,
and can accept no other reward, while am to
go back with Mr. Rossmore.”

So it was settled, and as Mr. Rossmore’s car-
riage drove up, Will got into it with his host,
and drove awa , followed by Kent Lomax on
horseback, whi e Hercules returned to town
With the buggy and tWo horses of the robbers,
along With _t ose who had come out to the scene
upon learning what had occurred.

That Hercules had fared well at the hands of
Will, Mr. R0ssmore and Kent Lomax was evi-
dent by the happy look upon his honest face,
and the words:

“ I wish dere’d be a robber-killin’ ebery day,
and Sunday too, and dis ni ger’d get rich.”

At a lace where the roa s branched off Kent
Lomax ade them good-by, grasping Will’s hand
warmly, and saying:

“You know my name and address, my boy,
and If You ever need a friend don’t hesitate to call
0n me, for Ihave no kindred that are dear to me
and I am rich, and would be glad to serve you
—so command me.”

Thus they parted, the man who had been en-
gaged to his mother—- the man whom she desert-
ed to marry the man who had so cruelly treated

er.

Neither knew what they were to each other,
alld yet PECh _Seemed drawn toward the other.

Nor did W111 suspect for an instant. an hour
afterward, that he was eatin dinner beneath
the roof where his mother ha been born, and
that Mrs._ Rossmore was his own aunt.

T1111t lllght Ml‘. Rossmore and Will took the
boat back to Baltimore, and having sent from
the Village a long and explicit dispatch to Cap-
tain Daly, an answer was found awaitiu them
upon their arrival at the hotel in the City the
followmg day.

The answer read:

“ New Yonx POLICE Dnr‘r.
“SP""i 1 0J6”. WILL Runosnz—

"Your telegram most satisfactory, and will get
requisition 101‘ Night. Hawk‘s comrade and have him
brought here.

“ You have acted as I knew you would in every~
thing. and the chief joins me in'congratulations up-
on your tiltich and detective skill. ,

“You ave full permission to go West With Mr.
Rossmcre, and your leave is unliuflled. Success to
you, DALY.“

That night the Westward bound through Ex-
)ress on the Baltimore & Ohio Railroad carried
hir. Rossmore, his family physician, and Will
Raymond, the Boy Detective, and their desti-
nation was the North Platte river in Nebraska.

CHAPTER XX.
rm; GRAVE on was PRAIRIE.

IT was toward sunset, one pleasant afternoon,
some ten days after the visit of the Boy Dewe-
tive to the eastern shore of Maryland, that a

 

 

rty of horsemen were visible driving over a.
. ebraska prairie.

The man in advance wore buckskin, and was;
a thorough plainsman in drem and appearance-

Behind him were an arm(y ofiicer, wearin a.
captain’s uniform, riding si e by side with Vt ill.
Raymond, while closely following were Mr.
Rossmore and his physician, who had accom——
panied him from Baltimore.

Bringing up the rear were a sergeant and a
dozen cavalr men, two of whom were leading
several pack- orses.

The party had left Fort McPherson on the
Platte, whose commander had kindly sent, an
officer and soldiers, under a skillful guide, with
Mr. ore, as an escort.

Will had told the buckskin guide just what he»-
had heard the Land Sharks say regarding the
s t where they had buried Willie Rossmore, and
tfig plainsman had expressed himself as acquaint-
ed with the Lone Tree, while he also said that.
there were fully a dozen graves about it.

Soon the tree, standing alone on the prairie,
and upon the bank of a small stream, loomed up-
in the distance.

“ There’s the Lone Tree,” mid the guide, “and.
we’ll reach that jist about dark.”

All eyes were turned upon the distant and
solitary cottonwood tree, standing likea giant
sentinel upon the prairie, and the horses were
ur ed on at a more rapid pace.

ut the shadows of his tfell before the tree
was reached, and it was ecided to go into camp
and make a search in the morning.

One of the pack-horses carried some pine-—
knots, and a fire was soon kindled, while an—
other carried some canvas flies which were:
stretched as a shelter.

There were ample provisions along, with
plenty of game shot during the day’s ride, and
soon a most tempting supper was spread out be-v
fore the hungryaparty.

As for Will ymond, it was to him a most
en 'oyable expedition, for he had often read of a
wild life upon the plains, and with the buckskin-
clad guide, the soldier escort, and the know--
ledge that there was danger of an attack by ln~
dians, he was charmed.

After the supper was dispatched, sentinels,

were placed out upon the prairie, at some dis-
tance, the horses were staked out within the cir-
cle formed by the four ards, and the rest of
the party sought the she ter of the tent flies to
s eep.
No, not all, for Mr. Rossmore was too deeply
moved by the belief that he was near the rave-
of his lon —lost child, and he aced to an fro,
beneath t e solitary tree, his t oughts busy with
his grief.

Then there was another that did not care to
sleep, and that was Will Raymond.

T e surrourflin s, the wildness of the scene,
the prairie, the so diers, all im ressed him, and
he strolled about the camp, w '19 as the moon
arose he walked out to a sentinel on duty and
had a long talk with him.

At last, as midnight came, and the sentinels
were relieved by others, he went to the shelter,
wrapped himself in his blanket, and soon sunk
to sleep.

The sun was rising when he awoke, and Mr.
Ressmore, who lay near him, had just gotten
up from his blanket couch.

The guide aiming had breakfast ready, and
when it was over, e search for the grave be-
gan.

As the guide had said there were a number of
graves in the vicinity of the tree for Several
trails led b it, and many a dear one, dying
upon the p ains had been laid to rest there,
where the solitary cottonwood would serve as a
monument to their memory.

“ Now give me the particulars, b0 pard, the
time he was buried, his age. when e was ut
here, and I guess kin pick out his restin’-
place," said the guide. _

ill gave the full particulars, as he knew
them, and the guide set to work.

Grave after grave he went to, and left, mak-
ing some remark at each one.

“ This one looks to be about the age you say,
boy pard, and it were made as thou h in a
hurry, and with a don’t care feelin’, an not as.
them builds a dirt house over them they loves.

“Sergeant, brill yer utensils and ig earth
here,” said the gm $3, and he stood over a small

ave that indeed dld look as though it had been

astin dug and filled in, for others, even those
smaller, and ev1dently with the remains of
children in them, were made as though the heart
of the dig .rs had been in the work.

Two sol iers now stepped forward with spades
and the work was begun of turningtheearth
from the grave.

 

   

'I
i
t
F
2'

1.; Wizard Will, the Wander Worker.

 

It was not a very long task, and soon the end
was reached,the moldering bones of abody were
found.

Tenderly the were taken out, having been
wrapped in a b nket, and from a felt hat that
had been upon the head, a mass of dark-brown
v-curls were taken.

Mr. Rossmore took the hat and its precious
iburden tenderly, and asked:

“ Doctor, this looks like Willie‘s hair.”

“ Yes, exactly the shade,” was the reply, and
‘the doctor bent ovor the bones, while all present
removed their hats with reverent awe, Will
Raymond having unconsciously set the example.

In deathlike silence all stood while the doctor
placed the bones together, and said:

“ This was the body of a child about Willie’s
rage, at the time that our youn friend here says
they killed him, and it was a y—yes, here is
the left arm, and—it has been broken!”

“ God have merc ! it is the body of my poor
iboy ” groaned Mr. ossmore.

“ es, Rossmore, it is, and I can swear to it,
for here is the broken arm, the fracture being
just below the elbow, as was IVillie’s, while you
remember the tooth I took out for him one
day ?”

“Yes, he would not go to a dentist, but wish-
ved you to take it out, so I sent for you.”

‘ He had no other tooth missing, and none
here are, you see; but great God!” and the doc-
tor arose to his feet, holding the skull in his
hands.

All pressed about him, While he continued,
, pointing to the skull:

“ Do you sce that fracture?

“ It tells the story that he was murdered!”

It was too true, the fractured skull showed
where a death-blow had been iven the poor boy,
blfi} whether by accident or csign, who could
te ?

As all crowded about the doctor, gazing at the
skull, Will Raymond sprungdown into the grave
and picked up something that had caught his
eye in the loose dirt. ‘

“See here!” he called out, and he held up a
gold watch and upon the inside case was engrav-
ed the name

“ ED ELLIS. 18—."

“Mr. Rossmore, that is the name of the man
who was with Night Hawk Jerry, whom I shot,
and he was one of the kidnappers, and hero with
your son, for this watch proves it, and it fell out
of his pocket when he was burying him,” said
Will.

“Boy pard, you’ve got a long head, for the
man who laid this boy’s remains in thet grave,
dropped thet watch,” remarked the guide.

“ Then it will be a fatal evidence against him,
.and I will leave nothing undone to hang him,”
sternly said Mr. Rossmore.

Then the bones were gathered together, and
being placed upon one o the pack-animals, the
party started on the return to the fort.

Arrivin there, the bones were placed in a
coffin, and Mr. Rossmore, the doctor and Will
Raymond started upon their return East, the
grief-stricken father having given the guide and
the soldiers a most generous gift as an appre-
ciation of their services.

CHAPTER XXI.
RETRIBUTION AT LAST.

11' was at Chicago that Will Raymond parted
with Mr. Rossmore and the doctor, for he was
anxious to et back to New York, as he knew
his mother ad not been very well when he left.

In vain did Mr. Rossmore ur e him to aoce t
a check for a large amount for his most valuab 6
services, for the boy was in his refusal,
taking only sufficient for his expenses.

Finding him firm in his dec1sion to accept no
money consideration, Mr. Rossmore went into a
jewelry establishment in Chicago and purchased
an eleglant watch and chain, having engraved
on it t 0 name of Will Raymond and his own,
with the date of the finding of Willie’s body, the
spot, and the words:

"Asan appreciation of a service rendered that
can never be repaid.“

Two boxes, one marked for Mrs. Raymond,
the other for Pearl, Mr. Rossmore also gave the
youth for his mother and sister, and, with the
feeling that he had done his duty well, and
woul win the praise of his chief, Will set'out
on his return to New York.

It was just su per-time, after an absence of
one month, that In knocked at the door of his
home, and heard a voice say:

“ Come in !”

In he walked, and, with a cry of joy, the arms
of Mrs. Raymond were about her son, while
Pearl clung to his hand in warm welcome.

 

 

“A.-. 1—,
.fi'

 

“ Oh, brother! how like a man you have
grown; but you did not lose your gold badge,

id on?” cried Pearl.

“ o, sis, I have it safe, and more, for this
was a present to me,” and be exhibited his
watch and chain to the delight of his mother
and sister.

“And here is something for you, mother, a
present from the same kind gentleman,“ and
when Mrs. Raymond untied a packet he gave
her. a pair of superb diamond earrings were re
vealed.

“ Oh, mother!” cried Pearl.

“And this is for you, sis, from the same
source.”

Pearl opened her box with trembling hands,
and took from a velvet case a necklace of pearls.

“Mr. Rossniore was determined to pay me af-
ter all,” said Will.

“ But, my son, tell us about these superb pres—
ents ” Mrs. Raymond said.

“ will, mother, and it is a long, strange
story,” and the Boy Detective told the story of
his travels.

“ We cannot give these presents back, can we,
Will, for they ill become Pearl and I in our
poverty,” said Mrs. Raymond.

“ No, mother, for it would deeply offend good
Mr. Rossmore, and he was determined to repay
me in some way; but I intendto be rich some
day, and then your presents won’t be amiss; but,
mother, did you say that you knew Mr. Ross-
more?” ~

“I said, Will, that I knew a gentleman once
of that name,” and the woman hastily wiped
away a tear.

“ ut, mother, the strangest of all, and which
I forgot to tell you, was the story he told me
about his home, and how his wife’s cousin and
adopted sister had treated the farmer I saved
from the robbers.

“ And the view of his home was 'ust like the
painting you gave Colonel Ivey, am I seemed to
recognize it as soon as I saw it, while both the
farmer, Mr. Kent Lomax—”

“ What name did you speak, \Vill?” and Mrs.
gaymond sprung to her feet, white and trem-

mg.

“ The name of the farmer, mother, Kent
Lomax,” said Will, in amazement at his iiiother’s
excitement.

“ And you have seen that man, Kent Lomax?”
she asked, lioarsely.

“ Yes, mother; did you know him?”

Uiiheediiig the question, she said:

“ Tell me of him.”

“Well, mother, he-is a tall, handsome man,
with a stern face, but a kind one, and he is a
rich farmer, livmg near the home of Mr. Ross-
more.

“ He was very good to me, and I felt sorry for
him when Mr. Rossmore told me he had been en-
gaged to marry Mrs. Rossmore’s sister, a young
and beautiful girl, whose home had been at the
Mill Farm.

“ But there had come awicked city man down
there, and though Mr. Lomax had saved his life,
he had made the young lady love him and had
run oil? with her.

“It was a terrible NOW, for the mother of the
young lady died of a broken lieart—”

“Died! died! oh God!” groaned Mrs. Ray-
mond, and then she said in a voice that was
hoarse and quivering:

“ Go on! what more did you hear, my son?”

“ Mr. Rossmore told me that the farmer,
Kent Lomax, followed the runaway couple to
Philadelphia, and fought a duel with the wicked
man who stole his sweetheart, and received a
wound that nearly cost him his life: but since
then they have never heard of Mrs. Ross-
more’s sister, or her hUSband, for he was
caught cheating at cards soon after and driven
out of the city by those who had been his
friends.

“ But I felt so sorry for Mr. Lomax, mother,
for he is such a s lendid man,”

“ And the fat er of this irl who so wickedly
fled from her home?” ask Mrs. Raymond in
the same hoarse whisper.

“ He died some years agO, and was buried in
the family burying-ground; but Mr. Rossmore
did not speak unkindly of the young lady,
whom he said his wife had always loved as
though she had been her own little sister. for
she was some years younger than Mrs. ROSS'
more.
“But, mother. I have something else to Show
you, and it is this gold watch with a small P1009
of chain attached, Which I found in the grave
of Willie Rossmore, and it bears the name on

 

it of Ed Ellis, the man now in prison. and
Who was the comrade of Night Hawk J erigy”
“Ed Ellis! let me see the watch!" an Mrs. '

Raymond graSped it from Will’s hand and
lanced at the name.

g “Yes, Ed Ellis, his friend,” she gasped, and

as she did so her head fell back, and her lips

crimsoned with her life-blood. .

“ 0h, Pearl! mother has a hemorrhage]! Quick!
run for Dot-tor Churchill!” cried . ill, sup-
porting his mother in his arms while his Sister
bounded away to fetch the hyswian, w’hom
Mrs. Raymond had been compe edto send for on
several occasions.

Pearl soon returned, for fortunately she had
met the doctor almost at the door, and under
his care the hemorrhage was stayed and Mrs.
Raymond was greatl relieved.

‘ You must keep er very quiet, and watch
her carefully, for this has been brought on 
some sudden shock,” said the doctor to Wil .
as he departed, promising to send a faithful
nurse to take care of the poor invalid.

The nurse came and in the morning Mrs Ray-
mond a peared much better: but she was very
pale an weak, and her face had become hag-
gard from suffering; but she whispered:

“I must live for you, my children, bitter as
life is to me, and I will do so, for you are my all
in this world.”

With a heart too full to speak Will kissed his
mother and went out to report to Captain Daly,
the orwoman saying aloud as he left the room:

“ y punishment 18 greater than I can bear,
for my act, I now know placed my poor mother
in her grave, and nearly cost Kent iomax his life.

“ I knew not of this duel, for he never told me.

“ But I erred, and I have suffered, and now a
fearful retribution has come upon me; but, for
the sake of my children I will cling to life until
the are old enou h to do without me,” and
doing her eyes, w ile her lips moved as if in
gayer, the poor woman sunk into a deep slum-

-r.

 

CHAPTER XXII.
INSNARED BY A WATCH.

THE entrance of the Boy Detective into the
police precinct caused a sensation, and his hand
was grasped in welcome at every step he took.

Captain Daly heard his name called and ad—
vanced to the door of his private office to meet
him, while he cried:

“Welcome back, my Wizard Will, for I re-
(‘cived your telegram from Chicago, and you
have worked wonders.”

“ Bravo i'oi' Wizard \Vill !” cried a tall ser—
geant; while a policeman said:

" The ca itain has well named the lzoy, in call—
ing him izard “’iIl.”

And thus the nickname went the rounds, the
Boy Detective found himself verbally christened
as Wizard Will.

For two hours was “'izard Will, as I must
now call him, closeted with Captain Duly, a: d
then the two Callie out of the private office to-
"other.

b A carriage was called, and they drove at once
to the Tombs. .

The police captain gained ready admission,
and he said to the officer in charge, after he had
introduced his young protege -' _ I

“ Wizard W'ill here Wishes a private talk with
your risoner from Maryland, W110 Calls himself
Ed E lis.”

The officer bowed aSSent._ and Will was con-
ducted to the cell of Ed Ellis, the man whom he
had captured in Maryland, at the time that he
had shot Night Hawk J erry,

“Ho, boy, What do you Want here?” grufliy
said the prisoner as Will entered and was locked
in with him.

“ I am here to have a talk with you, Ellis.”

“ What have you got to sa ?”

“ I wish you to tell me if Night Hawk Jerry
really killed little Willie Rossmore, or if he died
of exposure and starvation, as he told me was
the caso?" I

“ I don’t know anything about the kid."

“ id you never see him?”

H No.”

“ When did y 11 first meet Jerry?”

“A few months ago.”

“ Did he never tell ou abOUt the bOY’s delm"

“ He said he died, t at was all.”

:: We}? you ever in the West?”
0

“ Not in Nebraska?”
u TO 7,

“Suppose I tell you that I k110W something of
your past?” , ,

“ I don’t believe it.’_ _

“ You are from Philadelphia?”

“ Who said so?”

“You had a watCh Presented to you once.”

“Yes, I did. and I lost it.”

“ Suppose I tell you that I know where it is!"

  
  

 

 

 

  
      

 

 

Wizard Wilbthe Wonder Worker.

15

 

 

 

 

“ I’ll bet ou don’t.”
“ When 'd you have it last?”

“It was stolen from me in camp, some six
years 0.”

Will id not show the slightest sign of having
seen that the man made a slip of the tOngue, as
he asked:

“ In a mining-camp. you say?”

“ No, in a camp on the prairies.”

“ Some six years ago, in Nebraska?”

‘t  ,3

“ Ahl you have been West, then?”

The man saw his mistake and recoiled, as he

“881d:

“What if I have?”
“ Suppose I tell you I know where your watch
is?”

‘

“I’ll bet my life Night Hawk Jerry was the
thief that sto e it from me, after all, and you
found it on his bod after you killed him.”

“ You have the c ain that was attached to it?”

“No, I hain’t.”

“ Well, this chain, taken from you in Mary-
land when you were captured, is it not the same
that you had on your watch?” and Will showed
a gold chain of a peculiar kind of pattern, that
had been taken, with other things, from the
prisoner when he was captured.

H 9’

“And you think Night Hawk Jerry stole it
:from you?”

It Yes.”

“About six years ago?"

“ About that.”

“ Well, tell me how you lost it.”

“ I don’t know exactly, for I had it one after—
noon, and when I went to wind it up that night
Lit was gone.”

“ This was in Nebraska?”

‘t Yes. ,7

“ And Jerry was with you?”

It Yes ”

“ Who else?”

“ We were with an emigrant train, and going
out West to homestead laud.”

“ You had your own wagon and horses?”

“ Yes."

“ And joined the train on the march?”

“Yes; but we didn’t stay long in company
with it as it wasn’t going our way.”

“ Di “you remain long in Nebraska?"
(6 0.

“Why not ?"

“ Because we didn’t like it there.”

“ And you returned East?”

“ Yes.”

“ And you became a Baltimore crook?”

“ You seem to know.”

“And Jerry became a New York crook?”

“ As he’s dead and not on trial, I may as well
say that is about the size of it.”

“ Yet you said awhile ago you had not known
J er more than a year 9”

“ had forgotten.”

“ Well, Ellis, I have got your watch!”

“ The deuce you say!”

“Yes; and I’ll tell you where I found it.”

“ Where ?”

“It had a piece of chain to it, a .link of the
very chain I hold here of yours.”

“ Yes, I remember now; I had the old chain
fixed over.”

“ And, Ellis. I found your watch in the grave
of the little boy you murdered!”

The man gave a 0% in ite of himself, and
became 11v1d, while iza Will held up the
watch, all_c0vered with dirt asit was, and said:

“ Here IS. the watch, and I took it out of the
grave of Willie Rossmore; and in burying him,
it rolled out Of Your Mint and fell there.

“ And more, the'boy’s skull was crushed in by
a blow on gave hlm.—”.

“ No—nol Jerry hlt him that blow,” cried the
man in quiverin tones.

“ 811' is not fire to deny It, and ou have
conf to havmg u there with him, while
this watch tells the storythat you at least buried
him, and you and ng ‘3 HaWk Were the ones
who kidnap him: so I tell YOU. Ellis, you are
the murderer of Willie Rossmore.”

“ If I’ve ot to swing, boy, 5’011’11 not be there
to see me ie!” was the Silvage threat of the
man, and he sprung like a tiger at Wizard Wi]1_

But the boy stooped quickly and avoided him,
while the door was thrown open and Captain
Daly semng in and seized him, followed by the
officer In Charge of the prisoner.

“ N0, my map. You can commit no more mur-
ders the short time you have to live, for a juyy
wrll soon send you to the allows,” said Captain
Daly, and With Wizard in he left the cell,
while the officer of the prison remarked:

 

“We heard all he said, Wizard Will, and a.
stenographer took it down, so he is doomed;
and the watch insnared him, for without it he
could not have been tried for other than hi h-
way robbery; now it will be for mmder, as we .”

CHAPTER XXIII.
WIZARD WILL’s LUCK.

As soon as he left the cell of Ellis, the kidnap-

r of Willie Rossmore, Wizard Will went directr
I); home, for he was anxious about his mother.

But he was delighted to find her much better,
though weak, and the iron will of the unfortu-
nate woman was doing much to build her up
again, after her determination not to give up
and leave her children alone in the worl .

“ Mother, Captain Daly has increased my
pay to fifty dollars a month, so we will move to
a pleasant little cottage out on Long Island,
which belon s to him, and there is no rent to

y and it is furnished, and has five acres of
gild, with a fine garden, a cow, and a horse and
bu

g .

“ fipl’ien there are plenty of flowers, and chick-
ens, and though the cotta 8 has but five rooms
in it it must be a lovely p ace, for the captain’s
brother lived there until a few days ago, when
he went West, and left it to him,” and Will’s
enthusiastic description of the little home got
Mrs. Raymond quite excited over it, while Pearl
was wild with joy.

“And you say there is no rent to pay, Will?”
asked his mother.

“ The captain said he was just going toarrange
with a man living near there, to give him the
Use of the horse, cow and garden, to take care of
the place, while he’ll give it to us if we go there
to live, and he can get me a pass on the railroad,
so that will cost nothing, and it is not half an

hour’s run to the station where our home is, so 1

you must cheer up, mother, for life is getting
righter for us.”

“ But are there any schools, my son?”

“ Yes, mother; one only a hundred yards
away, where Pearl can go; and the captain is
good enough to say I can have two hours each
toy to study here in town, while he’ll not put
me on night work if it can be avoided, and only
on s )ccial detective service then.”

“ hat is most kind of him, “'ill, and I must
see him and thank him.”

“ And mother,” proceeded “’ill, whose enthu-
siasm increased as he continucd to enumerate,
“Captain Daley says I‘ll have a chance to
earn special fees if I am successful ill my work,
so that we need not stint ourselves in living, and
I suggested an idea to him that he was delight-
ed with, and said I might carry it out ”

“ What was that, my son?”

“ “701], you know that I am rctt well ac-
quainted with New York, and sair I. would
like to form a league of ‘ Boy Dctectivcs,’ for I
feel that I could do a great deal of good with
them, and he said he thought so too, and I
should be captain.”

“Ah! my son, I fear you are taking a very
heavy weight upon your young shoulders.”

“ I can stand it, mother.”

“You’ve always said. mamma, that brother
had an old head on young shoulders; but he’s
got broad shoulders, too, and can stand it,”
Pearl remarked in her quaint way, for she would
wager her life upon her brother being able to
do an thin that a man could accomplish.

“ ell, ill, you are the bread-winner of our
home NOW. and the head, young as you are, and
I will not be the one to put a straw in your wa
against success, for you seem to have a real -
ent for detective work."

“Thank you, mother. and they have dubbed
me, on the force, \Vizard Will, as they say I
have done wonders as a Boy Detective.”

“ You have, indeed, my son, and in a few days
I’ll be able to move out to the cottage, and you
can then devote yourself wholly to your new
career 9’ and. With the firm resolve to bury her
bitter past at once, and forgetting self, to live
wholly for her children, the noble, thongh 501'-
row-haun woman, improved steadily each
day, and one pleasant morning Captain Ryan
Daley, the good-hearted officer, called for the
trio in a carriage and drove them out to the little
cottage, Wthh he playfully called Wizard Hall.

It was a charming little cottage. With large
trees upon one side, a. lawn sloping down to an
inlet of the Long Island Sound, a yegetable
garden. a stable. a meadow lot. in which an Al-
derney cow was grazing, a henery, Wlth a large
number of chmce fowls, and beds of flowers that
at once caught the eye of Pearl.

The lace was in perfect condition, the garden
flour-is mg, the house Well and completely fur-
nished, and the store-room and cellar well
stocked, while the coal-bin and wood-shed were

 

filled, the captain remarking that his brother
had been a most liberal provider, and telling
the story without a. flush of his honest face, for
he had placed all there himself.

“ I shall soon get well here, captain Daly, and
1 know not how to thank you for all your kind-
ness,” said Mrs. Raymond, the tears coming into
her beautiful eyes.

“ It is a kindness for me, madam, to have the
place occupied by good tenants, and I must tell
you that in yonder little cabin on the hill lives
an old negro and his wife, who will do odds and
endsnfor you when you need them for very small

ay.
p “ Now, Wizard Will, I shall give you a week’s
leave to get settled in your new home, and then
on can set to work raising your League of Boy

etectives, whom I shall put reat faith in,”

and, promising to come out an dine some Sun-
day with them, the noble-hearted police captain
———whose daily intercourse was With criminals,
who was hourly amid desperate and tragic scenes,
whose will was iron, whose nature knew no fear
but who had the heart of a woman for deeds of
kindness—took his leave and returned to the
city, leaving the mother and her children to make
themselves perfectly at home in W'izard Hall.

CHAPTER XXIV.
CONCLUSION.

AFTER a happy week spent at his little home
on the sound, lzard \Vill returned to his duties
in town.

He had made friends with the old negro and
negress in the cabin on the hill near the cottage,
and had found them most willing to do all in
their power to help his mother, and had secretly
made an arrangement with them to look after
matters in his absence, the old man to look after
tnc horse, and his wife to milk the cow.

He had also ingeniously attached a wire from
the cottage to the cabin, witha bell at the latter,
so that his mother could call for aid if she
needed it.

With country air, pretty scerery, pleasant
quarters, fresh milk and ve etablcs, and no
worry about their daily brea , Mrs. Raymond
rapidly iimrovcd in health, and life became
Worth the living for her, as she strove hard to
shut (1111 the past.

Pearl started to school and made friends, and
some kind—hearted neighbors called upon the
new-comers. so that the mother and dau rhter
were not wholly alone, while ‘Vizard V111,
when at home, gave them many a pleasant drive
about the country, and row or sail upon the
Sound.

But Will did not neglect his work in the city,
and, setting to work with energy and skill, he
formed his League of Boy Detectives, and it was
buta very short while before the police. force
recognized their ability and acknowledged it,
treating their young captain with as much re—
spect as they did their own commanders

1n duc time Ed Ellis the kidnapper and mur—
dcrcr \\ as tried, found guilty upon the testimony
of Wizard Vl'ill and executed.

Mr. Rossmore came on to the trial and urged
“'izard Will once more to become is adopted
son. but Mrs. Raymond would not hear to it,
and also declined positively to allow her son to
bring the kind-hearted gentleman out to see her,
as he wished to do. .

Will felt hurt at this, especially as his mother
gave no other reason for her strange con-
duct than that she would not see an strangers.

IVith dee regret at Will’s refma to go with
him Mr. ossmore returned to his home in
Maryland, and the boy settled himself to hard
work to win greater fame in the career which he
had drifted into by accident.

Though he had several times seen Colonel Ivey
in the street he had avoided him. as his mother
had earnestly requested him to do. and the gal-
lant soldier little dreamed that the name his
eyes fell u 11 now and then in the papers as
Wizard W ill. was the one whom three-dollar
gold-piece he had found on Thanksgiving morn-
ing, and still wore as a charm upon his watch-
chain, while he dee ly mourned for the woman
he had learned to ove, and the children who
had crept into his heart as though they were his
Own flesh and blood. _

One of the first duties that the brave young
officer set for himself to accomplish with his
juvenile band of Secret Service scouts was the
running to earth of the “ Land Sharks,” and
how be accomplished the giant task is written
in the Police History of New York City, where-
in no name stands out in bolder relief than that
of Wizard Will, the Boy Ferret of New York.
See companion story “Wizard Will’s Street
Scouts,” alf-Dime Library No. 464. r

THE END.

 
 
 
  

: .

 

) _ -.

BEADLE’SrHALF-DIMErLIBRARY.

'3..~.....¢-:.v~m-qw:wno, '*‘i'T‘Wr'Vyvfi‘Nr'Lm. ‘33:”:2 I . t.
' » ‘t' ‘ , . v

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Probe of Five Cents. No Double Numbers. '

 

 

 

 

BY EDWARD L. “'IIEELER.

Deadwood Dick Novels.
1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road.
.0 Dollth D82“?! or, Deadwood Dick's Defiance.
'8 Bulfan lien: or. eaiiwood Dick in Disguise.
85 “'lld Ivan. the Boy Claude Duval.
Phantom Miller; or, Deadwood Dick's Bonanu.
49 omllll ("ii or Deadwood Dick in Dnngur.
57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles; or, The birds of Flood Bar.
18 [Deadwood luck on neck: or. Calamity June. the Huroino.
77 Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick's Last Act.
100 Deadwood Dick In Leadl‘ilie.
104 Deadwood DIek‘l Device: or, The Double Cross Sign.
109 Deadwood Dick In Detective.
189 Deadwood Dick’s Double: or, The Ghost of Gorgon’s

Ii C s
188 lllonde lull; or. Deadwood Dick’s Home Base.
1 9 A Game of Gold; 0r. Deadwood Dick’s Big Strike.
15‘! Deadwood Dick of Deadwood or This Picked Part .
195 Deadwood DIek’I Dream: or, he filvull ol'the Road:

’ 901 The Black "lllll Jexebel: or, Deadwood Dick's W'ard.

905 Deadwood Dlek's Doom; or, Calamity Juno‘s Last Ad-

venture.
.17 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brl and.
29] 8|! ar-Ooated Sam; or, The Blue Gown.
'3’ Go d-Dust Dick. A Romance of Roting and Toughs.
’68 Deadwood DIek’a Divide'i‘or, The Spirit oisivuinp Lake.
.68 Deadwood Dlek’i- Death rail.
809 Deadwood DIek’n Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of

Oregon.
821 Deadwood Dick’s Dozen ; or, The Fnkir ofi’liantom Flats.
.47 Deadwood DIek’l Dueata; or, Rainy Days in the Dig-

mugs.
851 Deadwood Dlek Sentenced: or, The T«rriblo Vendetta.
362 lFleadwood Dick's Claim: or, The Fairy Face of Faro

into.
405 Deadwood Dick In Dead City.
410 Deadwood Dick’s Dian-outing or, The Mystery oi‘ Joan

Porter.
421 Deadwood chk In New York; or, A “ Cute Cue."
4:30 Deadwood Dick‘n Dun-t; or, This Chained “and.
448 Dead wood Dick, Jr.
448 Sleke|.P|.te Ned; or, Di-ndwoml Dick Jr's Defiance.
458 Sunflower Sam, 01 Shasta; or, Di‘lHlWOUIl Dick Jr’. Fun

on .
459 Fluuh Fun, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Runnd-

465 Eillomyliv 0‘ Phenlli 0'; Deadwood Dick Jr's Racket at

4 III" .

471 Bozeman Bfll; or, Deadwood Dirk Jr's Corral.

476 Humboldt Harry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick 11'.

ig Dwiective.

481 Moll Myatcry; or. Dandwmd Dick Jr. in Deadwood.

491 Prince Pistol. the King of the Went; or, Deadwood Dick
Jr's (‘oiiu-iu-l.

496 Monte (‘rlaio, er nl’. Dandwood Dick Jr‘u Inheritance.

500 Deadwood Dick’a Digfilnga; or, Dr. Denth-Grip’l Swoop.

508 Deadwood Dick‘s Dc veranee.

5l5 Deadwood chk'n l’rotexec.

522 Deadwood Dick’s Three.

529 Deadwood Dick‘s Danger Ducks.

584 Deadwood Dick’s Death Hunt.

589 Deadwood Dick Jr.. In Texas.

544 Dea wood Dick. Jr., the Wild West Vidocq.

549 Don wood Dick on lllll Mcttic.

554 Deadwood Dick. Jr.. ill Gotham.

5i" Dcadwood Dick In iioaton.

567 Deadwood Dick, Jr.. In i’hlindclphia.

572 Deadwood Dick, Jr., In Chicago.

(lthor Novels by E. L. “'heeier.

26 Clovcn Iluol', thi- linfl‘alo Demon.
82 Bob Woolf; ur, 'l'Iu- Girl Dad-Shot
89 Death-Face, Detoctiw; or, Life in New York.
45 Did Avalanche: or. Willi Edna. the Girl Brlgnnd.
53 Jim Diudnoe. Jr... the. llo_\‘ Plienix. '
61 Bucklsorn Bill; or. The Rad Rifle 'i‘oltm.
69 Gold Riiic, the Shm‘ whom"; or. The No Detective,
80 Rooebud Rob or. .‘uuirvt Ned. the Klillht.
84 Idyi, the “hi . Iner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand.
88 Photo ra ll l’hl-l: “T. itusebud Rob’s Reaiipenrnnce,
92 Gang 3 (7 net; or, (lid Anaconda in Sitting Bull's Cmnp,
96 Watch-E e; or, A riihs und Aligcln oiu Great City.
13 Jack llllyTe the Young Socrulntnr.
17 Gilt-Edged Dick. the Sport Detective

1 (‘lnnainon (‘hlm the Girl Sport.
25 Bonanza IIIII. Miner.
83 lint-II Ilob the King ui Boothlm-ks.
41 Solid Hum ilir iioi lioudrAge-nl.
45 gaugiin I’l‘erret. the New York Detective; 0r, Boss Bob‘s

on u .

6! New York Nell the Boy-Gill Detective.
177 Nobb Nick oi‘ fievadn; or, The Sierras Scamps.
181 “'lld ‘rank, ihn- liuvkskin Bravo.
209 Frltz, the Emmi-Boy Detective.
218 Fritz to the Front; or, The Ventrilnquist Hunter.
226 snoozer. the Buy Sharp: or, The Arab Detective.
236 Apollo llill, the Trail Tornado.
240 0 clone Kit, the Young Gladiator.

H HH—HHHH

4-! 8 erra Sam, thu Frontier Ferret.
248 S-verra Sam‘a Secret; or The Bloody Footprints.
258 Sierra Sam's Pard; or, The Angel ol Biz Vista.
258 Reno Sam'n Seven; or, The Stolen Bride.
278 Jumbo Joe the Boy Patrol; or, The Rival Heirs.
277 Denver Do . the Detective Queen.
281 Denver Doil‘n Victory. '
2N5 Denver "011': Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza.
891 Turk, the Roy Ferret.
996 Denver lloll'n Britt: «tr. The Road Queen.
299 A No. l. the Dashing Tull-Taker.
305 'LI-zn Juno. ll‘r, 'liri Mint-r; or. the iron-Nervnd Snon.
825 Kelley, lllckcv .& 00.. this Di-tm-tiVi-s of Philadelphia.
880 Little Quick-Flinn: 0r, i‘h» Denil Face of Daggersvillo.
8 4 Kangaroo Kit: or. The Myuteriuua Miner.
‘89 Kan aroo Kit’u Raclfict.
848 Man attan Mike, 1h.- lowery Blood.
858 FIrnt-Clann Fred, Ilm (lent ll’llili Gopher.
8674 trek“ Jim. the (iold-i-‘uslllercr; or, The Lottery of

Life
87! Yreka Jim's Prize.
878 Nahob Ned: 0". The Sorret of Sinh City.
8H2 Cool Kit. Ill-9 KiIIL' of Kids; or. A Yillnin‘s Vonueiince.
8N5 Yrckn Jim’n Joker; or. Tim Rivnls 0i Red Nose.
889 "lg’rclc "en; nr."i'hu Linn of Lightning Lode.
894 Yreka Jim of \ nba Dam.
400 Wrinklcn, the NiletrVVutrh Detective.
416 High "at. Harry. the “use Hall Detective.
426 Ham slabnldeg‘ tlic‘ llcifller-lioy Duty-give,
484 Jim “oak and Pill. l‘rivate Detectives.
‘38 Santa Fe flul, the Slushcr.
‘86 Sealskhl Sam. tliu Sparkivr.

BY lll'P‘I‘ALo iii LL (lion. “'m. F. Cody)-
8 Kama! King; or, The Red Right Hand.
19 The. Phantom S y : or, ’l he Hint of the Prairie.
55 Deadly-Eye. the nknown Scout.
Border Robin flood; or The Prairie Rover.
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado: or. The Trapper'l Trust.

 

 

D Y CIIA R LEE MGR RIB.

‘Vill Sumo-rat, the Bar Drtet‘llve.

I’llll Ilardy, the “U58 liuy.

I’Icnyune Petr; or, Nittmlciiius, the Dog Detective.

Detective Dick; or. The lll'l'll In Rims.

Hand-mine llarry, lhu Bouthiurk Detective.

\l' ill Wildfire, thu Thoroughbred.

"luck "can. Vl'ili “'iidiire's Racer.

Mike Merry, ilit' llarhur Police Boy.

Will Wildlirc ill the “'oodil.

Dilly Du axe. the Railroad Buy.

A 'l'rnmp ‘ard; or, Will Wildfire Wins and Log...

Bob Rockett: or, Mysteries oi' New York.

llob Rocketti illu llanh Runner.

8 The Hidden land; or, Will \i'lidlire‘s Revenge.

7 Fred Ilalynrd, the bile lioat Buy; or. The Smugglers.

IND llob Rockettl or, Driven to the “'ull.

196 shadowed ; or, Bob Rocketl'l Fight for Life.

206 Dark Paul. the Tiger King.

213 Dauhing Dave, the Dandy Detective.

220 Tom Tanner; or, The Bluck Sheep oi the Flock.

295 Ham Char-coal the Premium Dnrlty.

2855 Shadow Sam. the Moueliger Buy.

248 he Two “ lllooda "; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang.

'5’ Dick Durhawny: or, A anoin Boy in ('hlcng...

263 The Young Finn-pa: or, Rollicking Mike's Hot TniL

274 Jolly Jim. the Detective Ap reniit‘e.

289 Jolly Jilll’ll Job; or, The nun: Detective.

398 he Water-Hound; or, The Young Thoroughbred.

805 Posh-sway, oI‘ Dakota; or, A Western Lud in the Quun
iii '

).
824 Ralph Ready. the Howl Boy Detective.
Bil ’I‘ony Thorne. the \‘ngnhond Detective.
858 The Reporter-Detective; or, had Fhvor’s Blizzard.
367 \V lilo-Awake Joe; or, A lluyol‘the Times.
879 Larr- '. the Levelerg or. 'l‘hu Bloods of the Boulevard.
lly Jack, thr RivehRnt Detecting.
423 The Lont ll'lngcr; or, 'i'lir Entrnpped Cashier.
42$ Frcd Flycr. the ilrivortrr Tlt‘iet'llvr.
482 lln'lllciblc Lo an. the l’llikcrion Ferret.
456 Illlly Brick, ti» Jolly “"L’illlilllll-
466 Wide-Awake, Jerry, l’i'iri'lhr; or, Eniunibo-l Alive.
47” Detectin- llod ct or, The Mun-ri- of Frank Hearty.
4hl'i “'ild Dick Rac 1.4.-
MM Boot-i, the Boy Fireman t or. Too Sharp for the Shsrper.
56“ The h’ccrct rorvlce Boy Detective.

S'Olit-vLOCNN-t
INNNNI§°3NI

3:9.

zit-3:

HHflHHHHflHHHHHl
I'lNN

H
’1

BY 01.! 00011158.

5 Vagabond Joe. the You": Wandsring J“.
18 The DuInb Spy.
27 Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide.
Bl K; - nlI'e, the l’riiire iii the Prairies.
41 Luis." Jack, llll' Your".r Mustang”.
51" The Bordcr Kill 8 “I. The Set-rel Foe.
71 Delaware Dick. t e hum: it"nuer Spy.
74 Hawk-eve llarrv the Young Trapper linger.
88 Rollo, the Do I linger.
134 Sure Hhot Set I, lhr Iiuy lilileinim.
1 Scar-Face Saul. the Silent Hunter
146 h‘ilvcr Star, the hay Knight.
158 Eagle Kit. ilm iioy Demon.
168 Little Texan, the Young Mustang".
1774 "Id Holltnry. llH' lll'i’ilill 'i'ru rpt‘r.
1N2 Little Ilnrrlcnnc, thv iioy ( nptnin.
202 Pro: cct Pete: "F, The ’nung (hitan Hunten.
20s The oy Hercules; or. The i‘rniric Triniipl.
213 'I‘Ilzcr Tom, the Texas Tern.“
224 Dan-him: Dick: or. '| rapper 'l‘nni‘s ('nstlc.
228 Little \Vildilrc, the, Y- ting l’lllil’:e Ni-inuii.
283 The l’arnon Dc tcctii c: or, The Little Ranger.
248 The Div-unlined i-‘nldc: or. \| ilil Rin‘eli, the Ranger.
260 Dare-Devil Dnu. thi- Young l’rnirie Ranger.
272 Mink-Akin Mlkc, tlw liov .‘ll‘ll’pslioolef.
290 Little Foxilrc. the lthy .‘pv.
800 Tim Hky Dellmli : or. ituinholt. the Ranger.
834 l‘vlllD-klllfl' Joe, the llm’ lliiiicliern.
4D” Hercule“ ("‘- “l"l(. lllt‘ lltiy Hungry.
417 “'cili‘otli Moi-c. illn 'l‘runip llrlet‘llvl‘.
422 "Illn’ §I|lii. lltt' lit-y {limit Iii the Yellowstone.
444 Little Duck—kin. l.-.e Young l‘rnirie Centaur.
457 \" Ingcdi’not Frcd; or. Hid l‘olnr Soul.
463 ’I'arnnrac Tom. “1" “ll: Tilli'l'e" “03'.
478 Did 'I' III Rattler. the Rod {in-r Epidemic.
4N”! fitogpwufl "all, llic liu_\~ ’i'roiiin.
51.2 lilundering Basil, tiit-iirriiiit Boy Trapper.

 

 

BY '1‘. C. llA R BACGII.

28 Nick 0’ the Night: 0". Th" “033' SP)‘ “l '76-
87 The Illddcn Lodge; or Thu lulth Hunter.
47 Nlul‘fl" ale Sut: or, 'l'ne Ft'l'r‘lll. (‘nptniiit
64 Dandy "pkg hr, 'l‘ln- (hitliuvs of the Oregon Trail.
82 Klt Ilnrei'oot the “‘anHnwk.
94 Midnight .lucl. ; or, 'i‘ln- lioy Trapper.
106 Old Froaty, ii... (midy; hr, Th.- \\'hiic Queen.
128 Kiowa Cllurlcy the White Musiungor.
139 Jllilke Lynch, J r.: or, The Bi-V \VlKl‘lAnl/e.
155 Gold Trigger. iln- Syn-rt; or, T in (Girl Avenger.
169 Tornado 'I‘oln; hr, min“ Jni'k From Red Core.
INK Ned 'l‘t‘lllple. the Murder “0)”.
19" A rknn-nw: or. Th» On» H «il Villa’s Revenge.
207 NIH’IUO Nick. the Buy Gold Hunter.
2h") (‘aptain llullci ; .-r_ Little Tnnknot's Crusade.
2i“ I’ltlcky l’llll; or. Rush, the R»- i Juzehel.
241 Bill llrnvo: or, Ti..- Rough» oi the Rockies.
255 (‘unlah- Aimli , u..- Kingiiiu ni‘iiowic.
267 The Huck-Mn Iletcctive.
279 Did “'lnch: or, ’l‘h.‘ lhn-kskin Deli'erndocs.
294 Dynamite Dun: or, The Bowie liluilu hf Cuchetopn.
802 'i'lic Mountain Detective: “I. 'l he Trigger Bar Bully.
3N5 "hi l‘k-llpnc, Trump ('urd of Arizona.
8'26 The Tcn l'urtln: or. The 'l'errnr utTnkioNotice.
88“ Ill]: Holt-tin: or, The Queen ofiho int-so.
345 l’lillcllll Matt: 0’, liwl Tlillllllt’l'iioll'i Si-rrct. '
85“ “uni Fulll lilw‘ l’uy- ~; 0’ le Terrible Six.
386 Vclvct Foot. lllt‘ llllllilll Dut-wtii't‘.
3K6 (‘nptnin (‘utlu-mx or, Ilia ii N‘iilic'cr‘s Girl Foe.
39“ Rough “oil: or. The iwin Cllillllliimls ol' liiinv lilazes.
4“ The Silkcn Lam-o: or. The Rose of Runcn Mom...
4“ Felix Fox. the. linv Spotter.
425 ’I‘cxnn Trump. the Border Rattler.
436 Phil Vim-ll. lllt‘ New York FOX-
415 The (‘ily Tammi-cl: "rl_Rell an'" Plinmn.
40“ (inc Against Fiity: 0r. 'l it“ it“! Man of Keno Bar.
470 "‘m- Boy Shadow: 0r. Felix Fux’g Hunt.
477 T‘ic lecci-Ior Sport: 0?» The “nsliingion Spottrr.
49” ‘lnu'ie flight. ilit‘ (inc-Eyed SImit-
502 lirillltll‘tl lien, the Night l‘crri-l. _
“I2 "mic". "1.4., 1|... Whurr-Sny Detective.
52] Dodger Dick’l lie-t Dodllt':
523* “(H and Falcon. the ""“‘t'r.\' shudows.
sax lodge.- luck, the Dork Ij‘urroi.
5 i8 Jutllrcr DIck’iI Double: 0f, The Rival Boy Detective.-
558 -l0dlt(‘l’ Dick’n Dcnvt‘ffltt' Case.
563 Dodger Dick. the Boy ‘ l‘lm‘l'
578 The Two Shadow». '

 

 

 

BY UGLIINEF- I’RENTISS TNGRAIIAM.

7 The Flying- Ynnkecg or, The (it-aim Outcast.
17 Ralph Roi, tlw [toy But-run er; or. The Fugitive Yum,
24 Diamond ‘llrk ° ur, The Mysiury oi'tlic Yellowstone.
62 The Shadow Ship: or. The Rim] Lieutenunu.
75 The Roy Dneliut; or, The Cruise oi the Sewwoii‘.
102 Dick Dead-E e. the Boy Siuuugier.
Ill The Sou-Devil; 0". 'l'he Miduliipniun'n Legacy.
“6 The llnsnnr Cagtnin; or, The llemiu we lirll Gnic.
197 Little Grit: or, ensle, the Stock-Tend- r's ihtugiiier.
204 Gold i’liune: or. The Kid-Glove Sport
2i“ Ill-loll lllll. the Prime oi the Reina.
222 Grit. the Bravo Hport; or, The Wmuui.1‘riiiier.
229 Crimson Rate; or, The Cowboy's Triumph.
257 Lone fiiar. the Cowboy Cit taiii.
245 Maple the Mlddy - or' he Freelance Heir.
.50 The “Id-lliplnan Mutineer; ur. Brandt, the Buccaneer.
80M 'Il‘lhe Floating Feather: or, Mule Mouton 'l'rvitiu'o

a In".
969 The Gold Ship; or, Merle, the Condemned.
gherlp Monte n Cruise; or, The Clinle of “The Gui-I
A i .
2S0 Merle Molt-te’ll Fatc' or. Pen“. the l’lrnte'l Bl’l( .
.84 The Sea Marauder; ‘1-r. Merlc Monte'n Pledge. lo
287 Illlly liluc-I-Iyeu, the [lay ROH'I’ of the Rio (:rnnde.
804 The Dcnd Shot Dandy : or. Benito. the Bu)~ Brazier.
30“ Keno Kit: or, Dead Shot llnniiy‘s Double.
814  Myaterioua Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler‘s Lon;

Till . A
877 Donodel. the Boy Rover; or,Th« Flnglosa Sciimmer.
8N8 The lndlan Pilot; vi, Th.- Smuoh l'or Pirate loiulid.
387 “'nrpath Will. the Boy Phnntnni.
 ?eadwali';lt|he‘itoy Lieutenant.

an or. e 'oun Coni- lrator: 01'. The FIN Len 119..
407 Tim Dov lilynrxtgltz ongl‘lie (‘ulmn Vendetta. R
412 The “'Iid \ achtnman; or. The Wur-Clouu’s Cruise.
429 Duncan MPO. ill“ Boy Refugee.
488 .\ (‘alsin Bov’n buck; or, Tile Corsair.
487 The lit-n Raider.
44] The Dcean Firefly; or, A Middyfs Vei (came.
446 Ilnphnzard Ilnrrv : hr, The Scupegvncc oi'the Sell.
450 “'lzard \l'illi 0r, Th.- iit-y Ferret of New York.

45-i- ll'izard “'Ill’n iii rcct hcouta.

462 The. Horn Guide: “I’. The Sailor Boy “'gndgr",
468 Neptune Ned. the lioy Conner.

474 Flora: or. Wizard Will’s Vugnhond Ford.

488 Forretn Afloat: or. Wizard Will’s Last t‘m.
48? Nevada Nod. the Revolvnr Runner.

495 Arizona Joe the iii-y Part] of Texas Jack.
497 Back Taylor, Kim: 01' thv Cowboys.

508 The Royal Middy: or, The Shark find the Sea Cat,
507 The lluntcd Mid-bipman.

511 The Dutinwed Middy.

520 “lick-kill lllll. the (‘mniuiclir Sliiidl w.

525 llrnlltcrn In llllcknkin.

580 The Buck-kin Bowen-I.

585 The iinc ukln Rovers.

540 Captain Ku-Kl‘ux, the Msraudrr ti ill" Rio.
545 Lieutenant Leo. the Son of Lafitte.

550 Lnlitiie'l Legacy: or. The Avenuing S: n.
555 The Crcolc Corvutlr.

560 l’nwncc Bill, the Prairie Shadow"

565 Kcllt Kingdon. tht- Curd King.

570 (‘llnlllltu the (‘nrd Qui-cii.

575 Thc Surgeon-Scout Detectllc.

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

577 Pavement Pete, the Scout Sifter. lly Jo Pierce.

57" Deadwood Dick, Jr.. Afloat. By Edward L. “Vlll'l‘li'.

579   or, Broadway llilly'a Surprise-Purl}

580 The Dlltcunt Cadet; or, The Fills» Detnntivc. liy ('ii
l‘rciitisu ingrunani. '

58] Sllllkllblf-CIII'VC Dan. the Pitcher Dctcctivc. iiy Gown-g. 4‘
ch 3.

582 Dodger Dick’l Drop. By T. C. llarhaugh.

588 Saffron flol. the Man “'itli ii Shadow. iiy lilt'lll. A. K. Sim...

584 Deadwood Dick. Jr.. in Denver. By Ed. 1.. Winn-in.

our. “'lll “'utera. the Bov Ferret. By H. Emun.

536 TiltI Bllcls'llklll Avenlrt‘l’» BF (.‘ll- l’rrnlis‘ inurnlmii .

537 Did Dombuhcil. the mud-'9' DWH'UW. lly Wm. H. Pain»,

588 Jack-o’-Lantern. the Under-Sea Prospector. By do View.

589 Tom-(‘nt and Yard; or. The Dead Set at Silvcr ('it\'. it)
Lieut. A. K. Sillll. ‘

590 Deadwood Dick. Jr'flu Decree. lly E. L. Wheeler.

591 Dclmontt‘. the Young St’R-Rflver. By Col. 1' ingmlmni.

592 The Boy Pinkerton. lly J_ (g comma“

598 Keen~ Clem. the li-‘HIPh imp. By P. S. “'nrnr‘.

594 Little Lon, the sired-singer Dvipt‘tivl‘. By '1". C. Harbaugli

595 Deadwood Dick Jr. in Bccizcbnb's Basin. 33' 1'7
L. “'lict'lcl‘.

596 {Emmy “"3 Kid; 0?, A Lamb Among “'oivv-a. By Chas.

urrlil.

597 The Young Tcxan Detective. By Ch]. P. iugrnliain.

59» Flute. Um Shim-r iii-hm... By Geo. C. Jenks.

599 Jim Dandy. lhc N0~Nflllle Sport. By P. S. \Vnrhc. I.

600 Dcndwood Dick Jr. at Coney Inland. liy EdwardL'
“'llf‘filt‘r- “Wily .liuiunry ‘2‘).

601 Happy “am. thi- Duiril Vidou}; M. Red-lint TImr-ll It
Round-Up. ll‘v Limb A. 5. Sims, emiy January ‘29.

602 Th0 ‘vnznhond "fun. Mincl. By Col. i’. ingrnliain.
Rciuly Fuhruury 6.

608 Wide-Awake Bert. the Street-Steer... ii.“ Ju- I'ivm.
Ri-ndy Fchrunr)‘ id.

604 iron For-n. the Mun oi Flrc. By “NIL Riyal A Swi’i.
i s. A. Ready February 9"-

A New lune Every Tuesday.
The “flu-Dime "3"", is for sale by all newsdulors, In
cents per copy, or sent by "1‘" °“ "’“m or “x “n” “‘h'

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Paint-he'l-
08 Will“. Street, New Tori.

   

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