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Entered at the Post Office at New York‘ N. Y.. at Second Class Mail Rates. Copyright. 1886. by Bun“: AND ADAMS. 7 January :36, 1866.
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I V J L l J A A ) - J J . A A . A A L4, ,
VOL  a. Year. No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents- NO' 444'

 

  

     
 

w ‘v-J..- ‘ ‘

01d Kit Bandy, Border Sleuth

BY OLL COOMES,

AUTHOR OF “WHIP—KING JOE.” “BABY 8AM,’
ETC., ETC.

 

CHAPTER I.
LITTLE BUCKSKIN.

THE crack of a rifle and the wild shout of
human voices rung out on the summer air, start
ing a hundred reverberating echoes among the
foot-hills of the grim old mountains.

With cries of afl‘right the birds started from
their retreat among the pin and the deer, loit-
ering in the shade of the w ed canyon, bound-
ed away as the clatter of hoofed feet came
BLOWING RINGS or suoxn INTO THE AIR, AND WINme LUDICROUBLY H mm thunder-mg down the narrovy defile.

ummsnxn 3:701:an AND 318 coxruxose. A few moments later—wink) yet the Sound 0’

‘

 

  
 

I aware of approaching dan er, he turns
and rides into their camp, emandmgas he reins 3

,2 ' . Little“ Buckskin, the Young Prairie Centaur.

 

 

 

gun and voice was hanging in the hills—a horse-
man shot from the shadowy pass out into the
open plain that stretched away in an a parent
unbroken expanse toward the east, an like a
bird on the wing glided along with wonderful
ra idity.

he horseman is a youn man—a boy not over
eighteen. His form is lit 6, supple and sinewy
as a young panther. Lon brown hair floats out

 from beneathawhite som rero. Dark-gray eyes
*3? fairly glow with a light that is reflected from
V the de ~th of a fearless heart.

The smooth,
bronze face, the half-parted lips wroathed with
a half-smile, and, in fact, every feature, and the
very poise of the head, and the expression of the
face, are indicative of a love of adventure—the
spirit of a young dare-devil.

With the excoption of his hat, the boy is
dressed in a full suit of buckskin, with fringed
leggins, beaded moccasins, and a huntin -shirt
wrou ht in a fanciful style. Around his s ender
form is a belt filled with cartrid es. At his back
is slung a rifle, while at his sad le-bow hangs a
revolver.

The boy is fleeing from danger—from a score
of mounted Cheyenne Indians, who, like so
many demons, suddenly burst from the canyon
on the trail of the youth, brandishin their
tomahawks and uttering fiendish yells. ’ hey do
not ride together nor abreast, but string out
along the plain in “ Indian file.’ From beneath
their horses’ hoofs clouds of dust burst at every
bound, and rising on the air, min le in one long
line reaching back to the hills ike a shadowy
ser nt.

s they a pear from the shadows of the pass
the fu itive s horse settles closer to the ground,
stretc as out his neck, and seems to almost re-
double his wonderful speed. Eve bound car-
ries his young rider further and Il‘zirther from
danger. , ,.

Conscious of the superior speed of his horse,
young daredevil, ever and anon, glances back
over iis shoulder. waves his sombrero above his
head, and shouts back defiance to the foe.

Soon a mile separates the boy from the fore-
most Indian, when he reins in his animal to a
walk, and deliberately permits him to crop the
grass as he moves along.

Half-turning in his saddle the young lainsman
keeps his eye eupon the foe, a 'm smi 0 upon his
face. The r -skins are sti strung out along
the plain for over half a mile and as the leader
draws near the boy unslings his rifle, stops his
horse and disinounts. Then, resting the weapon
in the hollow of his saddle he takes a steady aim
at the red-skin, but the latter seeing his move-
ments drops forward upon his mustang’s neck.
But little the b0 cares for that! He presses the
trigger and the ndian’s horse drops in his tracks
throwing his rider, who performs a somerset in
the air.

Then remounting the boy gallops on.

The unhorsed savage gathers up his effects and
is taken on behind the next in the band, and the
chase continues.

But, at the rate with which the boy gains upon
the foe, nothing save accident or superior en-
durance on the part of the. savages’ horses, can
endanger his hfe. Of these the youth has no
fear. 0n the contrary, he seems to court the
(lan er and excitement of that Wild ride for life.

iles are thus traversed, and full two miles
separate the ursuers and pursu , when the
tops of a belt 0 trees borderin on Panther creek,
a tributary of the Arkansas, urst suddenly on
the boy’s view. The valley is deep down in the

lain and the bluffs are abrupt and precipitous,
gut, never halting, the reckless oung horseman
plunges down the declivity. e has scarcely

ained the valley when his ears are greeted by
ghe sound of vorces.

Looking to the left he discovers a party of
four white men encamped under a cluster of
trees. They are dressed in the garb of hunters,

though the boy sees at a glance that they‘are but ;

amateurs. And seeing further that they are un-

is horse

in his steed:

" Hullo! is this an outlaw camp?”

“ No; are you hunting friends?” was the face-
tious reply of the eldest of the quartette of young
hunters. _

“ I’m in need of friends’bout now,” rephed the
rider.

“ Why so? What’s wrong? I see you’ve been
riding rett hard.”

“ I shouli trill that I had, stranger, and I

rather think you tellers ’d better be dustin’ out
of this if you don’t want your hair banged.”

“ What do you mean?” _

“ A million Ingins are comm’ over the plain a-
boomin’ this holy, sanctified minute. ”

“ You’re jestin , boy!”

“ Well, if you on’t take my word for it, you’ll
have to take the consequences. I’m no great
shakes of a liar, strangers, and—”

“ Well, who are you, anyhow?”

“Buckskin Phil,” was the be ’s reply.

“Is that a fact? Hurrah! illy! ‘ exclaimed
the amateurs.

“ Well, what will it be?” demanded Little
Buckskin, for be this fearless boy was; “flee or
fight? The red-skins are not far away. I see
you’re all well-armed, and if you want to stand
the reds a racket I’ll stay by you, for you won’t
have time to ack up and git awa too.”

“ Then we’ ht, ’ said the spo esman of the
amateurs, “if t ere is an show for victory,
but if there are a million ndians, as you say,
seems to me it will be folly to attempt to meet
them.”

“We can whip ’em, boys, I know,” declared
Buckskin, leaping from his saddle; “ foller me to
the t0p of the bluff and feast your eyes on the
hair-bangers of the prairies!”

Hastin ascending the bluff, they beheld the
savages even closer than Little Buckskin had
supposed they were.

‘ Great Moses!” burst from the 1i 5 of one of
the amateurs, as he beheld the start in sight.

Little Buckskin burst into a peal of aughter.

“You folks ’ve never been under fire, have
you?” he observed.

“ Never, I freely and frankly admit,” replied
one of the amateurs.

“Well you want to keep cool, take a careful
aim. an I’ll bet we give them gallinippers a
loud ole surprise-party.”

“They’re five to one, Buckskin,” said one of
the hunters.

“Don’t care if they are; all we’ve got to do
is to put one well-directed broadside into their
systems, and you’ll see the others turn tail and
scratch mountainward like so many coyotes.
You can’t foolish me on the sand of a red-skin.
They think I’m here all alone. They chased me
here clear over from the mountains. But now,
strangers, git ready. I’ll draw on the fifth red-
skin back in the line, and you next to me take
the fourth, and the next the third, and so on, so
as not to waste two bullets on one red-skin.
I Now, all git ready and shoot to spoil! Steady—
aim—fire!”

On the instant the five rifles rung out with a
crash, and three savages tumbled from their
animals, while the pony of a fourth one Went

down.

A yell burst from the 1i 3 of Little Buckskin,
and springing up into p ain view of the Chey—
ennes he sai :

“Git up here, boys, and show ourselves, and
we’ll scare the stuffin’ out o’ t em other red-
skins—they’ll think we’re a regiment.”

Quickly the four amateurs leaped upon the
bank, and as the boy had predlcted, the foe
drew rein, turned and hurried out of range of
the white men’s rifles.

“ That’ll satisfy them critters for to—day,” as—
sured Little Buckskin. “They got terribly
foolished trailin’ over here; they run against a
snag—corked themselves, the musty-skinned
coyotes! But say, boys! You slam in lead real
nasty like—should l‘ilgger that you was the clear
mett e, put up for estern trade. Now, what
might your names be, strangers?”

‘ My name ” answered the eldest of the arty,
“is Robert alvern—Bob, for short. his is
Deck Robbins, this Clark Lewis, and this Fred
Lawrence—all out for a season of recreation and
s ort.”

p“ Well, Bob, Dick, Lewis and Fred,” said the

jolly boy plainsman, “ I’m tremendous glad to
meet you. I like sport myself, and if on fel-
lers’ll jist drop down to my shebang, ’11 take
pains and pleasure to see that you have all
the fun you want. The tra pin’ season has-
n’t quite opened yet, and so I’ 1 have a week or
twp ,to amble around and stir up the hor—
ne 5. ‘

“ My dear sir,” declared Bob Malvern, “ we’ve
been headed for your quarters a week or more.
We heard ofe‘you two hundred miles frOm here,
and conclud (you were the chap we wanted to
show us aroun .”

. “ I can do it, boys,” returned Buckskin: “and
since the Ingins are on a little rampage, we’ll
recreate a—fightin’ reds and take our fun in
huntin’ deer an’ elk in the hills and buflfalo on
the lain.” .

“Ea , Buffalo,” demanded Deck Rollins, “if
you call fightin’ red-skins recreation, what the
dickeus do you call serious work?”

“Wrestlin’ with a c clone, or gittin’ out of
a den of pole-cats wit out bein’ bit, is what I
call danger. But say, them Ingins have all do-
parted, and we’d as well pack up and be movin’.

 

 

 

 

It’s twenty miles to my cabin, and it’s now a
mile past noon.”

So saying, they all returned to the valley,
when the amateurs proceeded to pack up their
“traps,” and in a very short time the five were
mounted and riding down the valley.

Robert Malvern—the leader of his party—two
years before we introduce him, had wooed and
won Au sta Darre, abeautiful girl, the da h-
ter of a entucky entleman of the “ old schoo ."
She was gentle an refined, and untainted with
the prejudices against all “ Northern” men
whic man a Southern man nursed and nurtur-
ed until it eveloped into not infrequent violent
expressions and acts. Of this Class was Colonel
Darre2 the father of Augusta. Finding that she
had given her affections to young Malvern, who
came from a Northern State, he became both
cruel and aggressive, and on the occasion of the
last meeting of the lovers, he had suddenly a
peared on the scene and fgrossly insulting t e

oung man, ordered him 0 the place, and for-
ade Augusta ever again to receive the young
“Yankee.”

. High-spirited and brave enough not to brook
insult or wrong from any man, he yet, for Au-
gusta’s sake, refrained from resentment, and
passed from the grounds. That was his last
si ht of his betrothed. ‘-

n leaving the place Robert had encountered
Paul Dumont, a mi hboring planter and the
suitor for Augusta’s and favored by Colonel
Darre. Dumont also insults the oun man,
and gets very severe] punished or his inso-
lence—Robert repeate'ly knocking him down
until he begs for mercy. He vows the direst
vengeance on Robert, threatening to have his
life for the punishment inflicted. _

All this was two years gone, and proceeding
to his Northern home, Robert had not only not
heard from his beloved but had grown to think
her untrue to him, and so she became, to his
mind, a kind of livmg ex ressionless sorrow, to
drown which he sought t e excitement of this
trip to the West. His face Was now bronzed by
the sun and wind of the prairie, andaheav
brown mustache gave a mature look to his
handsome face.

His companions were all
self—in fact, mere b0 8— red
youngest, being but eig teen.

To the amateurs Little Buckskin, the Young
Centaur of the Prairie, roved himself fully up
to their expectations. e was not only brave
and darin , but a joll , jovial spirit, such as
only the w1 (1 West cou d produce.

As they rode along Bob Malvern asked:

“ Buckskin, what 15 your true name, and how
long have you been a hunter and Wu per?”

‘ My name’s Phil Barker, and Ive been a
trapper ever since I can remember. My pa~
rents died when I was a kid and a friend of
father’s took me to raise. He_Was a hunter
iind ,trapper, and built the cabin where I still

we. -

“ Then you have no educationi—never attend-
ed school?”

“Never went to school; but Moses! it’d break
your heart to hear me read. 566 me write and
Observe me figger up the cest of a season’s hunt,
or figger down the cost ofra year’s su Plles.
Then you see I have another source of col ats in
doin’ scoutin’ work for the ranchmen, an’ In
keepin’ an eye open for the stage an’ express
companies. This I do when the huntin’ seaSOD’S
o

“ It’s a wonder the Indians haven’t killed you
before this,” observed MaIVern.

“Me and the red-skins have been as thick as
fleas on a sick rabbit all along till lately. They
stole a number of bosses from some mining ros-

ctors, and I led the trail in pursuit of t em.

e got the bosses, but had to salivate three red-
skins, so now they’re no longer my chums.
expect ”they’ll bang my hair if they git fingers
into it.

Thus the conversation ran on, as mile after
mile was ssed over. All the while the ma-
teurs noticed that the YOung Centaur’s ,eyefi
were constantly on the watch. Not for a single
moment did he seem to for at himself in thus
looking out for dan er. igilance was one of
the very elements of is .nature.

The sun had sunk behind the mountain range
when the arty came in sight of the Lone
Lodge, as uckskin’s cabin was called. And it
Was still light when they dismounted near the
cabin, un ked and unsaddled their horses and
tethered hem to grass. This done, Buckskin
led the way to his uarters. The door _stoo_d
partly open, just as e had left it. Pushing it
entirel o n he entered the room, and was fol—
lowed {y ' four friends. .

“Been somebody here Since I left,” was the

oun er than him-
awrence, the

  
 

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youth’s remark the moment he entered the cab-
in; “ but then my latch-string’s always out to
friends.”

“ That seems to be a custom of the country,”
said Malvern.

“ Yes, and that is a customer!”

The cabin was divided into two rooms, and
as Little Buckskin uttered these words he )oint-
ed toward the partition door in which ha sud-
denly appeared a tall Cheyenne savage, hideous
in war-paint.

At the same instant a couch of skins in one
corner of the room was flung aside and three
more savages confronted the startled Little
Buckskin and his guests! And to still add to
their surprise and terror, two more painted de~
mons s rung from behind the door and aligned
themse ves with their friends—each and all
clutching a tomahawk in his hand ready for
bloody work.

The savage first discovered still stood in the
door behind his five-com anions,towering almost
.a head above them, his ace wearing a strange,
resswn.

Little Bucks in saw at a glance that they
were there for mischief, yet no sign of fear or
surprise was depicted upon his face. His friends
were fairly startled, but seeing the outward
calmness and apparent indifference of Buckskin,
they were at loss to understand what was to be

expected. .

‘ Ugh!” grunted the savage in the door as the
boy hunter pointed toward him and ad essed
him as above “ Ingins catch pale~face like pale-

- face catch beaver!’

“Well, that sounds like a threat, don’t it?”

“ You bet! come git le-face scalp,” de-
clared one of the Indians, w 0 had taken a posi-
tion in the line, and spoke English perfectl .

By this remark the amateurs saw t t it
would now be im ssible to avert a blood en-
counter. With ands upon their revo vers,
1they watched every movoment of the foe—wait-
ing only for a word from their young leader to
ac . '

“ I tell you what, red—skins, it’ll break your
hearts to bang our hair. You can see we’re ten-
der boys,” Buckskin went on, “ and it’s no honor
for big warriors to kill a lot of children. Still,
if you’re determined on a. rumpus—bound to
cork yourselves, you’ll find you’ve struck the
liveliest outfit that ever landed in these parts.”

“ Pale-face boy big talk,” replied a savage.

“ Yes, and it’ll melt you into tears to see
how straight we can shoot,” Buckskin retorted;
“ and the very instant one of you attempts to
raise a hatchet, we’ll all plug you. Don’t forget
it.

This last remark Was intended more for the
ears of his four young friends than the savages;
and to let the brave b0 nderstand that he
can ht his meaning, Bob a ern echoed:

Ҥ{es; the first attempt to also a tomahawk
will be the signal for us to sho t.”

“ Oh, I see, red-skins,” Buckskin‘continued,
“ that you’re all broke up—surprised. You ex-

ted I’d be back here alone—didn’t estimate
‘ ’d return with four young buck cyclones, did
ye?‘ D”idn’t know that my medicine is good, and

He did not finish the sentence, for at this mo-
ment the savage in the door behind the five sud-
denly raised his tomahawk as if to strike, ands
almost at the same instant, Buckskin and hi,
four friends whippedout their revolvers;‘-there

, was a flash of five tongues of fire, a sudden pent—

\

up crash of firearms min led with yells, groans
and the fall of human b0 ies.

' CHAPTER II.
In QUEER OLD ousronmn.

QUICK almost as the lightniug’s flash, the five
whites had drawn their revolvers and fired, and
with the crash of their weaPOPS tour of the sav-
ages sunk down lifeless. while the other two,
terror-stricken, leaped 171mm h the o n door
and darted away intohthe tim r hke rightened
deer. Little Buckskin followed them a few
paces outside, sent a shot or two after them
and then went back to the cabin.

“ Well, boys, 'them red-skins corked them-
selves, didn’t they?” the lad said, With an air of
triumph. '

"I should say they had made a big mistake.”
replied Malvern: “and 'I declare it turned out
better than I had dared to hope for—not one of
us even scratched.” '

“We got a splendid scald on that rise-
pal'tyy" exclaimed Buckskin. i“ I was afraid we

wouldn’t all catch on together. but soon as you .

sgoke {seen you’d the idea. Bo 3, you get in
1i 9 oldVBunker Hill veterans. y, now, how
is this for a reception at Lone Lodge?”

  

 

 

‘ Little Buckskin, the__Xgung, Prairie Gentaur.   ': ll 7. ‘

“ I rather regard it as a kind of surprise-par-
ty, though I su use it is another custom of the
border,” replief alvem.

“Boys, true as I live. I never raised my hand
against a Ingin until yesterday,” declared the
youn plainsman. “I never had any desire to
take Iiuman life—no, nor that of a beast or bird
unless it was necessary. But I see very clearly
now that I’ve got my foot into, an Ingin ruc-
tion, an’ there’s goin’ to be more blood 5 ilt be-
fore the thing’s settled. But, boys, We ve got
to remove them dead pilgrims and make some
kind of ’rangements for the night. Them two
that escaped may return with the hull Cheyenne
nation and pester us considerable. Say, thar’s
an old 0 )en cache out here, and we’llgist drop
those b ies into that and shovel some irt over
’em, an’ that’ll be doin’ the square thing by
them.” -

So sa ing. they began the removal of the
dead. hree bodies had been carried out and
placed in the old cache. The fourth savage was
the one that had first made his presence in the
cabin known—he who had stood in the doorway
of the partition and had preci itated the conflict
by raising his tomahawk. 6 had fallen back
into the adjacent room. and lay stretched at full
len h on his back.

our of the whites lifted the body and started
for the hole. They had ssed out at the cabin
door and were approaching the cache, when the
form of the savage suddenly became %)ssessed
of life, and with a violent writhing of t 6 body,
tore loose from the ,
fell to the ground, an then rising to a sitting
posture, looked up into the faces of the boys,
and in a serio-comic tone, said, in good Enghsh:

“I kick on this business.” '

“ A white man, by the great Scott!” exclaim-
ed Rollins.

"‘ A renegade, and a sweet bird he is!” added
Little Buckskin.

The Indian burst into a peal of rollicking
laughter.

“ Say, ‘ old resewood ” cried Buckskin,
“ you’ve corked yourself, haven’t you i”

‘ I’m op osed to any sich proceedin as this,”
repeated t e renegade swinging his on arms
in the air; “if I can’t have ecent burial don’t
want any. Do you young vandals think I’m go-
in’ to be chucked into a hole like that with them
p’izen red-skins?”

“ Birds of a feather ought to be buried to-
gether,” decided Buckskin.

“Say, Bucksie, bo .” retorted the renegade,
turning and shaking 's long, bony finger in the
boy’s face, “you’re a tender youth with a
fucher before you, but‘you want to feel your
way keerfully or you’ll be cut off in your prime.
Now on think I’m dead, don’t you? YOu ex-
pecte to cram me into that hole with them In-
fims, didn’t you? You supposed a bullet had

one its gory work for me— ou think I’m
wounded—that I’m chantin’ my eath-song—but
I’m not.” .

“I ruther think you’rea jim-‘ammed rene a e

that’s t in’ to ’possum out o a bad job,’ e-
' sponded ittle Buckskin. '
“ I deny the allegation—I demur—I kick!” re-

plied' the renegade;
chaw tobakker?” .
f‘ What monumental cheek!" exclaimed Buck-

skin. .

.“ It’s all right; I don’t chew; but I must have
a smoke,” announced the renegade, and with the
utmost coolness the ueer customer took from
an inner pocket in his calico shirt an old pipe
and bag of tobacco, filled and lit the pipe and
began pufiing away, ever and. amp removm
the stem from his lips and blowmg little rm 0
smoke into the air, at the same time win ng
ludicrously at the astonished Buckskin and his
companions. - , _

Such an exhibition of deliberate impudence
was both amusing and exasperating, but finally
it occurred to the youn hunter hat his per-
formances might only for the Eurpose of
gaining time sufficient to enable t _e two red-
skins who had ‘es‘capedfio return With succor,
and so he made up his mind to bring matters to
a close, and said: . _

“See here, you lambasted old rooster, I think
we’ll have toserve you as we did them other
three Ingins and 't nd 0’ you.” ‘ .

“ Oh, now, Buc ,” protested the renegade,
“ I see ou’re gittin’ in earnest. and I’ll bet you
my seal7 against a square meal 0’ roast venison,
jerked Buffalo and corn-pone. that I killed as

“ but say, do any of you folks

man 0’ them' Ingin accordin to my number as,

you ellers.” _ ,
“What you’tryin’ to‘ give us now?” asked
Buckskin ' l '

. , «u Bible has * my kid! If you’ll examine them
three ’ head

Ingins . 8 you’ll find one =o’ them

,splendid ap

asp of the pan-bearers, .

 

mouth.

  
  
 
 
      
  
   
    
   
   
  
  
  
   
   
     
  
    
   
   
  
  
   

bu’sted behind! You can have my scalp if It .\
isn’t so.” ' , ~

“ All right: I’ll look about that,” dec \
Buckskin, and turning lie-lea and down into the
pit. True enough the head 0 one of the savages
was split to the neck! New another market
violence was upon him. . ,.

“ By the ’lasting tormentai there is a' bu’sted-
head Ingin there!” he exclaimed, as he came
back; .“ so you’re a double— eared traitor. eh?” .

“Boy, you’re onreasnna 1e,” responded the
renegade; “ hearken tothe voice of Long Gourd. . ,
the heyenne brave, and he will tell you why he \
slew that Cheyenne. Three 1mg menths ago I,
entered the village 02 the Cheyenncs and made
known my burnin' desire *to become an Ingin
warrior. The tribe of Spotted Elk was runmn’
down at the heel pretty badly so they were onl ‘
too glad to adopt a few 'blOsdy warriors, and ,
was admitted. They put me through a solemn» .
ceremony, painted me and dressed me and end— ‘jg.
ed the ceremony by namin’ me Long Gourd. If
I do say it mysel , I made a handsome, dashin’
warrior—” - .

“ Oh boys!” interrupted Buckskin; “hear ,
that! ~It breaks my heart.”

“Keep quiet till I git through, will e! or ye 
might git yer head broke,” warned he moc V
In ian, a broad smile overspreading his pain .
bedaubed face. “ As I war gorin’ to say, my
arance had‘its effect on the fair < ‘
sex 0’ the ‘ age and it wa’n’t long till I See’d'
I’d made a mash on Clinging Vine, the r0 a1 ' ‘

rincess o’ the tribe. Now, it happened t t -

tump—Tail Bear, that Ingin with the bu’sted
noggin’ in that hole right there, had long been
sweet on Vine, the princess, and so he egot jeal-
ous 0’ me, and three times has he tri to kill
me. I knew one or the t’other ’d have to go un- ' ,‘
der, and to-day when volunteers war called for,
to come here, and ca ture the Little ,3 ckskinn,
Stum Tail war the rst to volunteer, d 
as I ound he war comin’ I volunteered, too, de-
termined to la him out the ’fu’st chance I got.
That chance I ound when we braves stood ace
to face with you folks. When I see’cl that you ,
war to shoot when the fu’st hatchet was raised '
I raised the hatchet and fetched Stump-Tail 4
one, and then dropped before your revolvers
cracked. And I lay still for fear while y‘ou fel 7
lers were hotexcited you’d haste me. Nova,

ou’ve my story. In other words—in the classic
lginggage o’ the red-man—Long Gourd has ape--
en. - v =
“ And I think,” added Buckskin, “ that Lon
Gourd has lied. I’ll, bet you killed your frien ‘
accidentally. But we’ve talked long , enough
about this. It’ll soon be night. and we’ve ot to ,.
bring up our horses, boys. or the sneak nfiins .-
’ll be sure to steal them before morni g.’ ob . 
if you’ll walk old Long Gourd into the. cabin and '
ho d a istol at his head till we git back, the rest
of us ’ get in the horses.” ' »

“All right,” asscnted Bob drawin his 
volver; “about, face, Mr. , curd! orWard,
march!” ' i 

Turning with the most respectful obedience,» ' ,
the renegade_marched With aloft , military step
into the cabin._ Then, facing-Bo , who had ta-
ken a pos1tion in the door, he said, in a tone on-
tirely different from that in which he had hith-
erto s ken: ’

“ pang man, I’ll be bumfusticated if I. ar’n’t,
surprised at that boy, Buckskin. He’s sharp as i
a cactus, but my int and feathers aretoothick, c‘
for him! .Say, w ile he’s gone I’m in’ towatli .v
of! this dirt and change in _ rig, an I’ll bet you -
my interest in Jericho he’l 0 out" around the ’2.“
house and kick himself when 9 sees me. Here’s
a pail of water, and here’s a washbasin that old
Noah used in the Ark, and—here goes!” .

So saying, he tore of! his feathered head-gear ’
his bear-claw necklace, and his fanciful-fl r . ’
calico shirt. Underneath the latter, was a uck~
skin hunting-,shirt, lain, but rather neat. ' ‘ '3

Filling the wash- in, he began a vigorous, ,
rubbing of his face and neck, and in a few min; "*1
utes the streaks and ringgof dirt and paint had ‘ j
disappeared. revealing . e natural features of 
the man. He used his discarded calico shirt for
a towel, combed out his thin, scra locks with ..
his fingers, donned a coon-skin cap t at hung on; 7,
a peg on the wall and was then ready for the
reception of Buckskin. . > ..

Bo Malvern would never have known or bee. 
lieved that the man now before him and;Long.
Gourd were one and the same individual had he. f
notseen him 9nd 0 the metamorphosis: He?
seemed all of six inc es taller, more-an 'lai'and
ungainly, while the expression of“: ace, , '
been wonderfull improved. ‘Thefl‘ev . WI? MOW?

liar merry 15W" cm bisexual)“ and!
a. bland smile surro. undipghishgmusufiyy 

    
 

.’y . -

;

Lit

 
   

 

 

 

‘ I

tle‘Buckskin, the Young Prairie Gentaur.

 

 

 
   

In the‘course of ten minutes Buckskin and his

~ friends re-entered th! cabin.

m ' The renegade adva’ iced toward the young hun-

orter and putting out his hand, said:

m ‘ How d’ye do, .1)’. allant Buckskin?”

bi “ Kit Bandy, byl e lesscd stars!” burst from

1-3 the lips of t e My, and be grasped the man’s
hu a hand in be‘ . of his, and shook it warmly.

.31 “ rd bless y it: old soul," he went on “it

a:- melts in heart with by to see you a sin. oys

 33: —Bob, eck, C ark, ed—this is Old it Bandy,

L {a the noted bori’nr'detective, the bravest that ever

 u banged an Ingin’sscalp or pulled a gang of road-

:5 9‘

 

bgagentsl” , "V f
g,  CHAPTER III.
if; - a " om Wei LAMENTATIONS.

THE amateur hunters had heard of the noted
.1 border detectiveand scout, Kit Bandy, before
1; and, rejoiced to meet him such advanced and
“shook hands with him. While they were thus
1. engaged, Little Buckskin glanced around the
is room, then quickl turning to Malvern, asked:
1-, “ Bob, where’th e renegade, Long Gourd?”

“ Therehe is!” and Malvern pointed to the old
0 dO’BCthB.

1, silence profound. as, death fell upon the

,0 r irty, but it lasted ionly for a moment, when

1; Ild Kit and Bob exploded in an outburst of

m nughter that fairly shook the cabin.

a A look of ‘st swept over the face of

1; Little Buckskin, a d turning to his friends, he
an : , v, 1 

 “ Boys, kick 'me will youf—kick me hard for

g a blind jackass l'.‘ I feel faint. This is enough to
break my heart." .

“ Hal ha!” laughed Old Kit. “ Bucksxe, take
git easy, for you’re not the cal feller I’ve fool-
(‘ No,  I’ve rdecep haydoo s o’
I fellbrs that considered ’emselves smart lexan-
.5 ders. I’m Old Deception hisself. I war born a

deceptiOn—a boy,;..when a gal war wanted to
v. make sunshine inthe Bandy family. As an In-
; in I’m a success; Domestic infelicity drove me
ifnto the red—skin camp from the storms of a.
gpirited wife. “Boys, war any of you ever mar-
; ed? If not,  the voice 0’ one speakin’ from
«eXperience. , we drank to then dregs from the
,connubial b( ,and carry a mark for eve day
of twenty yearsjof married life. This su ower
lhere on my cheek is not a birthmark, boys. Oh
incl it’s w are m wife, Sabina Bandy, branded
1m with a hot s ovei; and this Sierra Nevada
arange runnin’ down the side 0’ my head is the
iacar where an iron poker did its glory work. Oh,
gI’m the relight-of a age—the ownfall o’ the
inertial! ire, t ruins 0’ Babylon, the (lee
:atruction o’r erculaneuml But, boys, _don’t let
Cm! lamefita‘tions distract your attention from
the fact  dangers do you surround. The
'Gheyennes and the Utes are on their auricle,
'and  Little. Buckskin’s scalp, is coveted by

m. , . : a
'“ What has raised their ire all so sudden?”
asked Buckskin. ,
i “Theencroachment of the miners on the In-
' n Terri are givin’ them the cramps, and
» Uncle m interferes soon there’ll be white
blood 8 flt.’ I‘ve been watchin’ for a chance these
man eye to flee from my adopted friends.” _
, ' “ bat eVer possessed you in going there in
the first place!” asked Deck Rollins. '.
‘ “I sought the Insgin camp from the persecu-
' or my wife. abina,” was the old detec—
.tive’s evasive reply. "‘ I went there to recruit
lay health. Oh, if 011 could ’a’ seen me the
day I entered that , _ e! I were storm-rack-
ed pillar—scarred and seamed and tWisted and
wrenched out 0’ she and plumbed! mosaic
shed over one eye a a Grand Can an o’ the
,Arlian'saw cut across m forehead. 't Buck-
, skin, I’m hungrly, and w ile I runput an recon-
waiter alilitle, wish you’d rattle up a stiff and
-..Iubstantia su r. ' ‘
' ' “All ri htPKitsie,” re lied Buckskin Phil.
The old infective left t e cabin, and the be
hunter p to prepare supper'for himsei‘f
li'and friends. ' . '
, ‘B thistime it was dark. Buckskin lit a tal-
glowdip, and raking the ashes froma  of
{oasis in the fireplace at one end of trfzgabin, put
.ensomefueland mnnedit intoab .
 Itdid not take him. long to, repare the meal.
‘ ‘ , bakeEin an ovenonthe
lied venison and chipped buffalo-
hichall enjoyed With the gusto
After 'Wogfii'xit lit his ' td
‘ supper . ,  pipe,“ ownon
aided! the cabmyand  Buckskin,

   
    
  
   
          
      

_ . ‘mlveyou ever ne'd s woman since
,m’a kidl)’ ‘ '
991W_ it!

   
 

( l

mu which I

x the river.

wasn’t over three weeks ago that one stayed
overnight here.”

“ You don’t tell me!”

“Yes she came along about dusk, accom-

anied by a little cunnin’-faced Mexican,” the

y continued; “ but the woman kept a veil
over her face all the time and I never got to see
it once. After she entered the cabin she went
into that room and stayed there till her servant
’d brought up the bosses in the mornin’ to depart.
Then she came out vailed, ave me a dollar for
their lodgin’, mounted her orse and rode away
toward the mountains. She acted most dashed
queer, I can tell you.”

“ Maybe it was a man in disguise,” suggested
Deck Rollins.

“ No, it was a woman—her form and voice
and hands—mil indicated that.”

“ B the horn of J Oshua l” exclaimed Old Kit,
“I’ll at it was my wife, Sabina, huntin’ me.
Didwshe seem to appear to ,have blood in her
e e

“She was very quiet and meek.”

H Oh, Lord!
meekness is one o’ Sabina’s walk-into-my-parlor
games."

“ Kit, I’m thinkin’ you do your wife injustice,”
averred Buckskin. r

“ You do, eh? Boy, by the horn that Joshua
blew! I can’t do her justice. Let me tell you of
one of her little love—tricks—one that she layed
on me afore we’d been wedded a year. t war
when we lived in California on the Yuba. She
got jealous 0’ me and Sarah Ann Forgot, the
dyl o’ Roarin’ Gulch, and the solemn fact is,
I ' only danced with her sixteen times in one
night drank a bumper or two with her and
licked two Mexicans for callin’ her a sorrel-top-
ped angel-nothin’ more’n any gentleman ’d ’a’
done for her. But Sabina thou ht I overshot
the mark—that in yin’ so muc attention to
the Idyl, I he lec her, and when we got home
she undertoo to make me romise that ‘I’d
never, never speak to Sarah X1111 again, but I
laughed, coquettish-like, and that’s all Id say.
So she swallowed her ief and became quietand
meek, but little did I ream what that portended
for me. i

“ Wal, several days went liyhand one bright
warn; afternoon I took a big ngin blanket an
went out under the shades o’ the murmurin’ pines
and spread my blanket on the green, flower-be-
decked grass on the bank of the Yuba. The
birds sun above me, the breezes dashed the per-
fume o’ owers around me. The river sung a
low, sweet melody, and with my so over-
come by these intoxicants of nature, _I ell aslee
and slept like a bear up for the Winter. An
while t us I slept, and the birds sung, and the
breezes blowed, and the river glided, sin ’s,t°
the sea, Sabina—my wife—the meek an quiet
angel 0’ m bowm, came to where I lay. She
carried a fty-pound rock, which she laid at my
feet. I expect the angels in glory applauded her,
thinkin’ it was an act of lovin’, wifely devotion
to her sleepin’ lord: but if they did I reckon they
soon seen the were mistaken, for ’Bma at once
roduced a ig needle threaded with cat-lint
ddle~strings, brought the edges of the bla ct
reposed together, and sowed me up
in the blanket with that big stone at my feet.
Then the little birds near saw her fasten a lariat
to the bag ovor my head, and, holding on to the
lariat, she rolled me over the bank of the river
that ran singin’ to the sea. Of course I woke up
’bout the time I tetched the water, and felt my-
self bein’ dragged down into the cold depths of
I tried to c out-free'myself, but I
'war helpless. I coul not realize what war
wrong. Death war seizin’ u n me, and I war
’bout gone, when I felt myse f yanked up to the
surface and partly out o’ the water. I splutter-
ed and coughed the water from my lungs, an’
war nearly in s in’ order, when I heard a
voice—the voi ani‘ne own Sabina, shriek out:

“ ‘ Flirt. Wighnether sorrel-top _ Idyl, will
Youa‘you ‘ false-hearted monster? _ iolate your
marriage vows again, will youi’: 2" I

“I was ’bout to answer when she the rope
slack, and down into the cold depths)! that river
I war dragged by that stone at megteet. ’d
give-mysel up as ost, when again w I
tothe surface, and when I war as ready

yelled out: _,
swer ‘ Yes,’ but be are could get breaith enough
down I went ag’in; ,and tau timos war I
thusdragged downand then ,Aup‘belore Leonid
gasp out Yes,’ to her ‘Wilfmu‘promisei' And
when she heard
‘Now re
Bandy

t— will
never  r

. bther woman—huhmy

‘ Will oufiromise?’

 

I had,” replied Buckskin; u it

{ -‘ I I e
." l '. ,  i ' .,
i

that must ’a’ been her—that

to ak out the best I could thEahwoman‘.
we ’I tried to'an- .

the maid

me the  inss woman said: -‘
t after  words: “I Kit A
‘ declare—the.

 

own wedded  :I will always, be

irgedtgmer in word and thought—so—help me,
r

“ After I’d repeated this promise to her she
trolled me down the riverto where the bank was
low, dragged me ashore, ripped Open the blan-
ket, and arose a wetter and Wiser man, and
then Sabina turned and went smilin to the
cabin, and the birds in the tree-tops he] a mati-
nee, and the breezes sung ‘ Home, Sweet Home,’
and the river ran on—well, boys, to cut it short, ,
tbar war one less darned fool in the Yuba valley
that night, and those fool war Ka-ristopher Ko—
lumbus Bandy.”

A roar of la hter followed the conclusion of
the eccentric 01 man’s ridiculous story.

, “That story, Kit,” said Buckskin Phil, “is
enough to break one’s heart. Poor old man, I
wee for you.”

“ h, pshawl” exclaimed Bandy, “ that little
affair war just the beginnin’ 0’ our wedded life.
I’ll tell ou—”

The 0 d man’s words were here cut short by
a sound that came in throu h the open door,
causing all to start with sud en alarm.

Grasping his revolver, Little Buckskin sprung "
to the open door, and .peered out, into the nOW'
deep shadows of night. As he did so, a wild,
terrified scream pierced through the darkne.

“By the born 0’ Joshua!” cried Old Kit, his,
face assuming a startled ‘look; “ boys, some-

thin’s wrong! that was a woman’s scream be-- '

yond a doubt.”

There was a momentary silence.

The sound of flying footsteps were heard ape
proaching the cabin.

The next moment a human form, the form of"
a woman, glided across the threshold into the-
cabin—threw up her hands, uttered a low, ter'
rifled cry, and sunk senseless to the floor.

Kit Bandy sprung forward, and lifting the:
woman’s head, supported it upon his arm.

The face of the stran er was that of a fair ~
and lovely girl. At si t of it Bob Malvern-.
uttered a low cry, as i of keenest agony, and .
clutchin at his brow, he staggered back, al-~
most fa ing. He recognized the face of the
girl. It was that of his sweetheart—a face,
that had never been absent from his heart dur—
ing a wakeful hour of the past two years—it
was the face of Augusta Darrel , .

CHAPTER IV.
START LING NEWS.

To Bob, Malvern’s friends Augusta Darre was,
unknown, and they were not a little surprised
By the startled expression of the young man at.

ght of the beautiful stranger’s face.

‘Bob '” said Dick Rollins “what is the mat-
ter? hat do you know about this girl i”

“I know her—she is a friend of mine,” re»
plied Malvern; then‘a vancing, he knelt by the-
siélaedg‘f the old detecti. , inquiring: “ Kit, is she :

- I
“Not quite—only fainted,” Old Kit answered.
“The or thin i wonder What’s gone wrong?"
Bucks in, you’ better slip out and throw eye,~
and ear wide open, for I tell you‘ there’s Some»
thin’ in the wind.” _ . .

Little Buckskin glided from theicabin intothe-
night to reconnoiter the surrounding woods.

“ Bob,” demanded Bandy, “ do you know whar-
this id belongs?” .

“ er home is hundreds of miles fro here—
in Kentucky. Her name is Augusta rre.”

“ Darre, did you say?” sud enly exclaimed.
Old Kit; “not the darter o’ Colonel Zebulop.‘
Darrel” _

“ Yes, sir,” replied Malvern; “the same. Do-
you know the man?” - w ‘

“I’ve beam 0’ him,” curtl replied Bandyg.
“ but let’s lay) the poor gal on hat couch.” .

Tenderly t ey,hfted the unconscious girl and.
laid her on the pellet of skins in the corner,.
where, ‘under the tender care of Old Kit, she ere.
long returned to consciousness. _

Bob Malvern stood aside after requesting the
old man to gently break to her the news 0 his
being present. . .
Elfin to a sitting posture and gazmg Wildly
are d er, the girl cried out: ‘

“ Where am I? where is J eannette?” .

, “You’re safe my little lady,” assured Old Kit,
kindly. ‘i You‘re safe With riends in the cabin
o’ Buckskin Phil.” _' ‘ - - I

“And Jeannette—is she safe, too?” repeated“

 

“ Wheg'did you leave her, Augusta?" asked

“Ah!  know my name?” exclaimed the
‘ 'rl i vi ntsu' rise. '- i.  -
9*‘yxa, friendo yours is here—an old friend.
139‘, , know Robert MalVern’!"
. ’ rt

springingtoherfeet. . .

  

 

Malvernl He here?” she exclaimeds.’

 

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._ “I,

' - -or by myself and :Teannette Zane.

.c'r

' dear,” added

  

      
 

  

 

Little Buckskin, the Young Prairie Centaur. ' ,

 

“Yes, Augusta, I am here!” and Bob Malvern
-.stood before her.

A cry half-joy and half-anguish, burst from
"the maiden’s li s, and the next moment she was
clasped in her over’s arms.

Malvern’s friends and Old Kit looked upon
this meeting with astonishment. Not one of
them knew the relations that had existed be-
tween these two. , ,

It was several moments before any one
spoke. Bob Malvcrn was the first to break the
silence. '

“ ’Gusta, in Heaven’s name, how came you
here? What is wrong?” .

“Everything, Robert~overythingl” the girl
half—sobbed. “My father, if not dead, is in the
hands of foes, and pOor little Jeannette Zane
must be.in the hands of the savages that pur~
sued us.”

“ Then you fled here from Indians, oh?" ob-
:served Old Kit. ,

“We were pursued,” Augusta said. “I will
‘tell you all so that you may fully understand
the situation: Father and I were visiting at
.Zane’s Ranch—in fact have been there three
weeks. Father’s health has not been very good
the past year, and the doctor advised him to
come West and spend a few weeks in the cli-
‘mate of Colorado. Rufus Zane was father’s
«old friend, so we went there. Our visit has
been a very pleasant one until tp-day. Father
‘had been in the habit cf riding out every
'morning, and was usually accompanied by one
»of Mr. Zane’s men if not by Mr. Zane himself,

‘ This morn—
‘ing he rode out as usual with one of ‘the ranch-
nien. Shortly after he left, Jeannette and I sad-
-dled our ponies and started on a ramble up the
river. Five miles from the ranch we came up-

"3 on the body of the ranchman, wounded unto

-' ,~ death. He could just speak above a whis er.
Brave little Jeannette dismounted, and, knee ing
by his side, learned from him that four masked
men had attacked them, and after shooting him
carried father off toward the mountains, a pris-
x-oner. The ranchman bade us ride back to the
ranch for help to pursue the outlaws, and we
[started at once. As we neared the ranch we
heard yells and the, firino' of guns, and presently
«came in sightiof 'many fndians on the plain and
hills surrounding the ranch, and knew they were
'trying to capture the glance. To venture for-
ward we knew would dangerous, and so
. Jeannette said we had better flee to the cabin of
Buckskin Phil, and we at once started. On our
we we sto ped to see the wounded raiichinan
ran hel him to a place of safety, but he was
dead w en we got back to where he was. So
we rode on fast as our pom'es could travel. It
'was a long, long journey, and toward evening
.Jeannette’s pony begs. to fail. The cabin of
Little Buckskin wa’s sti several miles away, my
friend said, when darkness fell. We rode on as
:fast as, we could, and suddenly discovered that
we were bein pursued by horsemen whom
'Jeannette sai _» were Indians. .We lashed our
’ nies into a gallop and rode for our lives; but
.ggannette’s gony was so near given out that
’ when the lig t in this cabin burst on our gaze
the pursuers were close u 11 us. I had held my
ony back so thatI con remain by Jeannette,
‘gut when she saw that we would be overtaken,
“the brave girl told “me to go on and send Little
.Buckskin to her ass1stance. I dashed on toward
"the ' ht, but before I had one far I heard my
"frien ’s scream and knew t at the Indians had
overtaken her. After that I have a vague re-
. ‘membrance of lea ing from my pony and run-
ning"toward the, ight that shone through the
-open.door of the cabin that my friend had said

' ~ ' was Little Buckskin’s.” ‘

“This is the home of Little Buckskin, my
Malvern; “ on fell in a swoon as

ou entered therdoor. our friend must have
been captured. Bandy, ought we not to call in

, ‘ , "the boy and tell him of the state of affairs?” *

1‘ By all means,” replied 01d Kit; “ I’ll go and
whistle him up.” ' , ~ '
‘ The old man went out and soon returned With
the youn plains guide. ‘ ~ .
. Bob alvern briefly related the news that
. Au ta lied brought and when the youth heard
’of canne te‘s supposed capture, his young heart;
'  almost crushed. . .
‘4 Friends,”«he said, in a vome hill of emotion.
“ I Willgo at once in search of J cannetto, if you
willsta and take care of this young Iggy, The
j valley 8 swarming with red-skins. .. on will
haveto be careful, and maybefio some lively

flg’htin’.” . , ,

. ‘BOY, What can you do to’ard rescuin’ that,

" ,gal alone?” demanded Bandy.

- “ I 0811 do as much, or more than all of us, for,
it Wlll‘Oftiy  stratagem thatshe can heresy dr

 

 

cued, and more than one might make a blunder
that’d defeat all my plans.”

“Yes, yes, I know how that is, boy, myself,”
returned Band : “but we’ll hold the fort till

ou return. e’ve somethin’ now to fight for

csides our own lives, and we’ll drench this val—
ley ‘ith blood afore harm shall come to this gal.
I’m a hull jungle full 0’ tigers when it comes to
fightin’ for a party gal, notwithstandin’ domes-
tic infelicity has made me a storm-scarred
monument to a once— But, no matter, Bucksie;
I know you’ll be keerful. and my best wishes
for your success goes with you.”

Taking a pair of revolvers, the youth bade
his oung friends good-by, and left the cabin.
()ld 'it went out with him to stand guard. A
faint, far-off sound fell upon their ears as they
step )cd out into the darkness. -

‘ Vliat war that, Bucksie? Sounded like
thuinler.”

“It was thunder, Kit; I not only heard the
thunder when I was out before, but saw faint
glimmerings of lightning reflected up from be-
hind the mountain range. I guess we’re goin’ to
have a storm. The air’s felt like it for a week
or more, and if—”

“ Hark!” interru ted Kit.

They listened. be sound of hoof-strokes were
heard out in the timber. going south. . .

“By the horn 0’ Joshua! the red devils are
stealin’ our hosses, boy!” .

‘.‘ Ayl' they have stolen them, Kit,” replied the
boy. “ Hear! they’re goin’ down the river !‘
They’re making for Buffalo Ford, an’ I’ll see if
I can’t head ’em off. Kit, watch things closely.
Them boys in the cabin are brave and noble fel-
lows, but they know/nothing of the border and
such dangers as now surround us.”

With this precaution the boy glided away in
the darkness, going down the Arkansas. ‘

Like a deer he sped along with an almost noise—
less tread. It was two miles to the crossing,
and although he made the distance in a few
minutes, he was not in time to head oil? the
thieves. They were just disa peering on the
op site shore as he came in si t of the ford.

he moon was shinin , yet 6 was unable to
ascertain the number 0 the savages in charge
of the horses; but, determined not to lose his
noble horse without another effort to rescue
him, he ran back up the river a short distance
to where he had beached an old dug—out that he
kept for his own use, and dragging the clumsy
canoe into the water, he pushed out for the op-

ite shore. In a few minutes he had landed on
that side, and at once struck out on the trail of
the red scavengers. -

He knew every foot of the country for twenty
miles around, and that the trail taken by the
savages trended awaymto the hills, narrowing
from a wooded valleimto a deep, black canyon.
This knowledge of t e country enabled him to
take some advantages of the Indians by cutting
“across lots,” and before he was aware of the
fact himself he discovered that he was in ahead
of the foe. l—Ie also discovered that his and the
amateurs’ horses were not all that the foe had in
charge, but that there were fully two hundred
head in the drove! I

This discovery cpnvmccd the boy that the sav-
a es had raided the horse ranch of, Rufus Zane.

o attempt to retake them helknew would be
the sheerest folly, for he felt satisfied that there
was a large force of Indians in charge. 4 But he
was determined to have his own horse, and so
hurried on in advance of the. drove, tryin to
devise some means by Wthh hls ObJect could be
accomplished. , ‘

In the mean time the air was growin more
humid. A dark line of clouds had pus ed up
above the mountain range along whose serrated
edges sheet lightninfiJilaycd incessantly. The
low thunders grow 0mmOUS1Y‘ among the
mountains.

Keeping on in advance of the horses, Buckskin
finally entered the canyon. » A shudder assed
over im as he thought of the dangers to en-
countered from the sudden bursting of the
storm and the flood that might be hurled into
the narrow rift. The some thought seemed to
have filled the mindslof. the red-skins, for theiri
voices were lainly dlstlnct urging forward the’
horses. Buc kin heard them come thundering
up the V , that was now not over twenty fee
in widt _  instantly a. thought seemed to
have entered his'miqd. i r 5 -, I .

Crouching likei'a j' panther in the shadows he
awaited the approaCh of the foremost horse.
Like a deer it came sweeping along,” when
opposite the boy hé' sprung, out ~ like ajcat from -
his concealment. emit/seized the animal by the
mane.  ,. ' ‘ .‘ '
With awild snort thegpeast' lunged forward,
. ' the young  at its side. It

@8ng

l i ' J

     

  

was an unbiwien mustang mare,
viciousu It nude a series of frantic
mad endeavors to rid itself of its burden, but,
itself from the boy’s
im upon its back, w ere he
canbe accom-
g and skillful

ecame frsnt‘ic, and plunged
forward with renewed speedy.“ ever and anon
rearing straight into the airi J1nd striking out
viciously with its fore-feet'and uttering a sound '
that was almost a maddened scream. ‘
Finding its efforts to dislodge its rider un-
availing the wild horse finally settled down to a
Swift as a deer it glided along the
canyon gaining u )011 the rrsnof the drove at
every bound, tlc
back as though he were a part
through the pass, now lit up with the, glare of '
lightning—now black in gloom, sped the un-‘
bridled boast withtits daring rider, while on be—
hind came the others, the roar of. their 'clatter- 1
ing hoofs almost rivaling that ,of the thunder
that rolled overhead.
Deeper and deeper the cm
Little Buckskin knew would con i
before an exit could be made. The further be '
advanced into the hills the more dangerous the
boy knew the way would become, but 'he was
anxious to reach a certain spot where he hoped
to stop the flight of the horses by blocka‘diiigthe
It was a place where a goed-Hzed 
opening gradually narrowed to a rift where but '
two or three horses could pass abreast. ‘
As he approached this place he threw
forward upon his pony’s neck, and‘clasped his
hands over its nostrils to bring it to a stop. But _
there was no need of that, for at the same mo-
ment a stream-of hot blood burst from each of ‘
the animal’s nostrils, it slackened‘ its, ace, stag- ,
gel-ed, fell to its knees and theirs

instead of fmein
suddenly found

The animal now 1:

oy Centaur. clin

iyonZ .ew, and this '

 

uekskin_sprung f
went down and ran on and entered he mouth
of the narrow  he bed can endeavor-mg, '
to reach, and pressmg his fo .
the wall, he drew his revolver “determined *to‘
block the way with dead horsesl, r.“
The head of the
the opening beyon
them dashed on and plunged intetthe
where they became wedged as tight]
driven there b 9. might thumigrbo 1
egan a _espera strugg
before they could extricate themseIVes, ,
skin ran forward and shot each of them dead. 
The poor brutes were so 131
tween the walls of the can on, that}
not fall even when dead.
forward and their hind quarters sunk slig
ndeavored», to‘ leap 
two or three “ef- ..

into a niche in ..

and sideby‘ u e 'three'of: ‘

 

Horses coming up behind e
clear over the dead ones. and
them would have succeeded but for the revolveT 
Thus were other can"

P‘ng the blockade fr

e whole drove was {con , .
raled in the pass. Yells and shouts that seemed . ,4:
to issue from a hundred savage throats, em {
deavored to force the horses forward. The uni-i I
mals became fairly wed,
antine walls. They .crOWde and fought, and 
ged. At tunes a; more active 
mb upon the very backs of the ,

and then sink down .

, , , i.‘
on thedead .7":

er of Little Buckskin.
ceases piled upon the three,
of the canyon complete.

In a few moment

ged between the adam- i”?

reared and pl
one seeme' dtocl
others, lunge forward,

kskin calmly climbed u
carcasses that closed the pass, and ooked; down 
over the seething caldron of animals to "\Wthh 5,
the glare of the hghtning lent a frightful as» i ,
ect ‘ - t.

arated the, boyyifromli'i
S§ed over his face.
0 impossible for th

Fully twenty rods, s
the savages, and a sm
when he saw that it would
foe to make their way through that, solid m
of plan ing beasts; nor could they scale the perv
pendic ar walls of the can
on him from the rear.

"‘Oh, small-pox take
devil exclaimed.

you and cousin “pi .

you 2” the young 
stay here till you yell r
our fangs sore. :If any of these houses
ere, the ’ve got to go the other way.
Kit was here now!
biaself. holding the pa

His musings Were here intemi

. ss above, him, and looking-ere

saw in he glare of the 1i 1 
savages coming toward him
had come‘there he could
p to inquireer 

 

  
   

 

ine, nor di he

moment to lose.

and like coyotes dashed
Turning, the ho!

 

 

pedvtmevhm'hi

 

 

   

   

   

‘.

   

va. .. ... n.‘ ” Q..‘ ~ ~‘ I H . afl‘

H‘s... - a» “0.... (-1* f

.... -a. so... “'.~—-AA:‘ . u.ru<

Litflé Bfickskin’ the Young Prairie Centaur." l,

,2! .,

-a A
.3 . . ‘

 

'1 upon a dead horse to the back of the nearest

living one. The animal attempted to shake off
its burden, but it was so hampered and crowded
that its efforts were but feeble.

The savages coming down the canyon, uttered
in. fierce yell, and were answored by those he-
ow.

Thefsituation of Little Bucksin was indeed
critical, but never at a loss for an expedient, the
boy rose to his feet on the back of the pony
bounded over onto the back of another, an
thus ran several rods down the canyon over the
backs of the surging, seething mass, finally
dropping astride of a mustang to await the
lightning’s flash, in hopes of picking out his own
horse from among the maddened drove of
. nies. He had not long to wait. A rolonged

h of lightning that fairly dazed t e boy at
first, lit up the defile. He glanced around him,
and quickly espied his own horse further down
the canyon, towering up like a giant above the

I ponies.

Springing to his feet, the lad started toward
him—again walking, crawling, and leaping
along over the backs of the animals. He, was
but a few paces fro 1 his horse when he was sud—
denly startled by the presence of a lithe Indian
warrior, who, with the agility of a panther,
came bounding along over the backs of the
ponies toward him, the look of a triumphant
demon; u n his face. There was no chance for

. the boy elude him—no _time to draw a wea-
pon, but, standing erect, Little Buckskin grap-
pled with the warrior in a hand-to-hand death—
strug 1e there upon thevery back of that seeth—
iniw 'rlpool of maddened, terrified horses.

ml at this" very moment a vivid tongue of

- fire shot down into thecanyon from out of the

. black—brewed heavens, a )eal of terrific thunder

shook the very hills, and t en an awful, blinding
darkness settled over all. .

_ CHATTER" V.
. A unavanov’s DESPERATE DEED.

: BOB MALVERN and‘a Augusta Darre sat down
in the 'humbld cabin, 'and entered into conversa-
tion, the other three amateurs having joined
Old Kit. on the outside.

“ Augusta, this is rather an unexpected meet-

 

in .”
‘fiobert thus opened the way for explanation
’ and the information he was heart-sick to obtain.
“ Yes, Robert,” replied Augusta “and under
circumstances far more trying t an was our

And what weeks and months of 'ef I
have passed through Sines then! It could
only have heard from you, Robert, perhaps I"
should have been happier; but I have virtually
been kept a prisoner until'we starred West.

-  two years ago. 'Oh! how sad I was that
Y

‘ ' iPaul Dumont has been away from Kentucky

most of the time since you left; but the time for
:3! ‘ugarriage has been fixed three months
nce. ‘

T V ' “Indeed? Then your father is unrelenting?”

. ‘-...+.' 3...“... ..

,
’!

“He is a strange man, Robert,” the maiden
replied; “butl mgr father! I am afraid some—

thin dreadfu befallen him.”
. “' s soon as morning dawns, August's search
I will be made for both him and t e rl, Jea
' nette. In fact, I believe Little Buc 'n is no

off in the search for her.” _ _
“ What a sweet, vivacious, yet daring rl
Jeannette is,” Augusta remarked. “She l ut
fifteen, yet a woman'in form and a girl in spirit
—the idol of Zane’s Ranch. For years have the
Zanes lived in the Arkansas valley, and at this
lathe first time that dangers from the ndians
have befallen them._” _
“This outbreak is rather a
bod ,” added Malvern. “ 01d

rise to eve -
’t and Litt e

 .; \Buc skin think it is caused by the encroach-

‘n
.4

l

f"
.

. l

‘ .ments of miners and ranchmen upon Indian ter-

ritory, but it looks to' me as though it was the
result of flendishness—the natural love of the
red-skin for. human blood. But, A sta, your,
-’ father is known. to Kit Bandy, and w en I men-'
,tioned his name a while ago the old detective
manifested no little surprise.”

“ Indeed“! I never heard father mention such

 .1. name. , ,
2,. :r. ' At this juncture Clark Lewis and Fred Law-

rence re-entered the cabin and announced to Bob

 the fact of the Indians having stolen their

horses. ,
" Well, what next?” was the response. “ Boys,

 itbeginsgto look as though we were to be the

 

hunted instead of the hunters.” -
5 “Yes; Old Kit says for us to keep the cabin
doar'closed and Our revolirers‘ within reach.” '
  is the old dodger?” ~
. “He and Deck are scouting around through

‘ the timber in hopes of finding that other young

'  Be thinksshe escaped the savages and is . tth was nearly submerged, and. astbe noise

t
3‘

 

hiding away in the darkness. Deck has frozen'

solid to the eécentric old codger—thinks he is
immense.”

“ He may be a brave man, a shrewd detective,
but he’s a colossal liar,” avorred Lawrence, who
he}? a bluff, outspoken way of expressing him-
se . ‘ 6
Meanwhile, Old Kit and young Rollins were
moving cautiously through the sparse rowth of
timber which, at this .pomt lined the rkansas.
They worked their way down the river, the
young amateur observing such a degree of skill
and silence as to call forth a compliment from
the keen old borderman.

They kept on dovm the stream until they had
reached a oint, within half a mile of the ford
where the ndians crossed with the stolen horses
when Old Kit suddenly stopped within the shad—
,ows, and ointing over toward a little island in
the moon it river, said:

“ Look there, lad, do you see that, eh?”

The island in question was about twenty rods
away. It was a long, narrow strip covored
with low, dense bushes, with a rocky promon-
tory rising a few feet above the water, at the
lower extremity.

The objection to which Kit called the boy’s at-
tention was the shadowy for of an Indian who
disappeared in the bushes jus as he spoke.

“ see nothing but an island,” was Deck’s

replfi.” I

‘ the born 0‘ J Oshua! I see’d an Iugin slip
into t e bushes over there, and, jist like as not,
there’s haydoogins 0’ them concealed there wait-
in’ for to do deviltr . And, jist like as anyway
again, that gal eannette is there in. their
power.” ‘ ‘

“ How are we going to find out?” -

“ Stay by ’em till they show their colors, or till
this river freezes over. That’s the way we can
work it, lad. A man that’s spent twenty years
dodgin’ the wrath o’ a red-headed woman can’t be
outo'ineraled by a smoke-skin—not much!”

“tit looks as though there was going to be a
heavy storm,” suggested Deck, “ and if there is,
I should think the red-skins would want a. better
shelter than that island affords.” , ‘

“ It’s goin’ to storm, 1 should proclamate,
and if that gal’s not on the island, I should like
to see old Jove heave a thunderbolt into them
bushes over there, and splatter them smoke-
skins all over the commonwealth 0’ Colorado!”

Already the storm-clouds had advanced above
the mountain range, black and ominous, and yet
the moon was shini and the whole of the east-
ern sky was clear. ‘here was an inceSsant roll
of thunder and flashing of lightning}; yet Old
Kit and Deck paid little attention to t ese until
the moon became obscured, and a dense dark—
ness followed. Then it was that they were only
enabled to keep their watch upon the island by
the occasional glare of the h htning; but this
proved very unsatisfactory to 1d Kit. Feeling
certain that the presence even of a single Indian
on the island was of sufficient importance to
bear investigation, he resolved_to remain at his
post until the desired information was obtained.

For hours they continued their watch. The
wind changed to the north, and blew damp and
cold. Off in the distance they could hear a
deep and sullen roar, like the mighty rush of
waters, and as no rain,had yet fallen, and that
strange .sound grew nearer, Old Kit finally
sprung tobis feet, saying: I

“By the horn‘o Joshua that sound is surely
the rear 0’ an advancing torrent! It’s been
raimn’ awful up in the bills, or else a mighty
water-spout has bursted on the upper range,
and has been discharged into the Arkansaw.
If so, you’ll see this stream bank-full in less’n an
hour.’

“ There’s something coming, that’s sure," was
Rollins’s decision. /' ’ ‘
i “ It’s a torrent, bo ; you can’t fool me. Just
listen! I tell you s e’s an old boomer! gKeep
yer eyes led—ah! there'it comes, boy! an old
naper With a ten-foot header!” -

rue enough! ~ In the lightning’s glare yohng
Rollins beheld a mighty wave extending from
shore to shore, rolling down‘ the river from
above them. It came with fearful rapidity,
bearing upon its breast great trees and logs, and
swept past them with a roaring, rushing. crack-
ling sound...

ld 'Kit' and Deck inVOluntarily started back
as it glided past them. ,’ ' v

“ Lord, but she’s a roarer!’ exclaimed the old
adventurer. “ D’ye hear that strange noise,
lad? That’s the cracklin’ 0’ trees and logs, an
even stones that she’s grinding together——

Moses ._
loam of ,h‘ghtni revealed to theirkgaze

A.
the ver almost barik- ll. The island before

_words 0 . .
d reached the island; Whose location is onl mark-

 

of the rushing torrent receded} down the river,

their ears were greeted by a wild cry—a shriek I.

of despair coming from over the water. '

“By the born that started old Jericho!” cried.
Old Bandy, "' that war that gal’s scream, and it
come from the island! The 001' thing! I sus—

cted that she might be t ere, but, what on

od’s earth can we do to save her?”

At this juncture the whole heavens seemed to!
burst into a blaze of fire. The mad, rushing
river lay revealed to their gaze, and upon its
bosom near the island, they saw half a dozen
savage forms struggling around a long log canoe
as they were being swept down the stream. And
upon the rocky promontory jutting out from the
lower end of the island, the two men saw a fe—
male form standing erect, her long hair floating-
in the wind, and her hands clasped over her
breast.

Nor was she alone. A huge, shagi y animal
sat upon its hauncbes upon the me , scarcely“
ten feet from her. It was a bear that the flood
had driven to the rock of refuge.

The woman stood at the very extremity of the
point. The water was within two feet of the
top of the rock and rapidly rising. A few min-
utes more and both she and the bear must be
swept away. *

The 'scene was indeed terrible. The vivid
lightning’s fiery tongues seemed to lick the very
waters around the island, while deafening pea s-
of thunder crashed overhead. '

The bear, crouching at the woman‘s feet,
snapped ‘its white teeth at the lightning and
slunk down at the sharp peals of thunder in ab—
ject terror. It paid no attention to the slender
figure behind it, but, blinded by thelightning,
and deafened by the thunder, it crouched there
for several minutes, then rolled off into the flood.
and was swept away. ' .

Rapidly the river rose until the woman seem—
ed standing on the very surface of the stream.

Again and again she shrieked wildly for help.

“My God, boy!” finally exclaimed Old Kit,
throwing aside his hat: “ it’ll be death to at—
tempt to stem that flood; but, heaven knows, I
can’t die in a better cause! Boy, if I do go-
down in that flood, and you ever meet one Icha
bod Flea, my old ard, tell him how I--” v '

‘1 Look yonder, it! What does that mean?”
suddenly interrupted Deck Rollins. '

Down along the opposite shore of the river he
saw a drove of animals flying like the wind.

“It’s a drove 0’ horses!” cried Kit, “and, as
sure as the Lord’s my Judge, there is a rider on,
the back of one of them!”

The imperiled women, too, saw the horseman,
for, lifting her hands, she shrieked aloud for

hel .
'llhe horseman heard her and drew rein, or “

rather stogfied his horse« by command, for
neither bri e nor'saddle was upon it. .

“By the horn 0’ Joshua!” cried Old Kit, “ that»
horseman is Little Buckskin! Hurrah for the:
Young Centaur! See! he turns up the river!
He' has discovered the girl on the rock I”

True enough, the horseman turned and gal-
loped up the river. Twenty or thirty rods-
above the island he halted, _turned, and then
leaped his horse into the Toarmg. Wild flood.“

‘ Mighty heavens!” exclaimed Bandy, “ the
young dare-devil. has plunged into the river-
and’s swimmin’ his boss to the woman’s rescuer
May the Lord hel the fearless bo !”

“ The wild, reek ess fellow! he’ never get out:

of that!” declared young Rollins, almost para—

lyzed by the scene before him.

As the horse and rider lunged into the mad.
river they sunk from “sig I: under the waves.
But soon the watchers on the bank saw them rise
to the surface again, and strike out into the.
stream.

Gradually the current carried them down the-
river, but t 6 Young Centaur, for he the daring-
horseman really was, had made am Is calcula-
tions on this when he went back up t 9 river.

On and on the horse struggled With its ruler
-—now rising and falling am the currents and
wave Odging among the ,flpatmg debris——
guided only by the hand of its rider that lay up-
on its mane. ‘ I .

In breathless awe and suspense Old Kit and
young, Rollins watch’ 'lthe Struggle. amid the
glaring light and blinding darkness that. alter-
nate upon the terrible scene. ‘ . I .

Closer and closer to. the shriekin girl the
youth 'ap roaches. He IS heard shou ing some»

f) encouragement to her. He has now
ed by tbe-tdp of’ the shrubberyu on it. ow he
is alongside the melt! Ten feet
girl will be reached

velops the river.

rther and the .
.But at this moment blinding damp?” 9g; _ ;

 

  

 

 

 

 
 
 

5.,

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.35 ‘ .Q:
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A” ,
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3’.“
' m

‘ replied the ark-eyed beauty.

' they left me to

1‘ Little Buckskin, the Young Prairie Centaur.

‘ v  x, ' "."““~.,

 

 

A wild scream pierces the air.

Suddenly there came an intense glare of light-
ning, instantly followed by a clap of thunder
that shook the very earth. Half-stunned b the
shock, Old Kit and Deck reeled backwar . A

eat bou h came crashing down from over-

ead, and ell where they had stood, riven from
the trunk by the lightning’s bolt.

“By the born that tooted under Jericho’s
walls!” exclaimed Old Kit, “that was a close
call, boy. But, I wonder how goes the struggle
with Buckskin?”

They walked back to the river-bank and
gazed down over the seething waters, but no-
where upon the fioor could they see horse, boy
or maiden.

They ran along the shore and shouted the
name of Buckskin, and fired a revolver. But all
was silent, save the rush of the river and crash
of thunders.

“ It’s all up with the boy,” said 01d Kit, sad-

1 .
yStill they continued on down the river, al-
though all hope had died in their breasts.

The storm gradually receded in the distance
and the intervals between the lightning’s flash
grew longer.

Buta few dro s of rain had fallen, save far up
the river, and t ere the flood-gates of Heaven
had been-thro wn wide open. ‘

The continuous darkness finally put an end to '

Old Kit and Rollins’s search for the boy and
girl, and turnin they wended their way| back
toward the ca in, and by the time t 9 two
weary scouts had reached the little log inclosure

.  themoon was out again and all was qmet save
s, {Etheroar of the river hard by and the muttering
.. We storm in the distance.

- ‘i‘IWhat neWS do you bring, Kit?” asked Bob

1' :IM‘alvern, anxiously, as the two scouts entered

the cabin.

"' Sad news—nothin’ but the very worst,” was
the old detective’s re ly, and then he sat down
and ently broke to is friends the news of the
sad ate of Little Buckskin land the girl Jean.

nette.

Sorrow bowed every head and tears dimmed
eve eye.

A ter a few moments of silence Bandy arose
and walked to the door and looked out. The
sound of a horse’s hoofs fell u n his ears. It
was approaching. A moment ater a horseman
Brew up before the cabin. Old Kit. threw the
door wide open. The light  streamed out
upon the horse and rider. A Wild cry of joy
then burst from Bandy’s li s, for upon the horse
sat Little Buckskin, the oy Centaur holding
iznmliisI arms the half-inanimate form of J’eannette

e

 

CHAPTER VI.
. THE DEATH POOL.

“BUCKSKIN lives! Buckskin lives!” shouted
Kit Bandy, and his words falling .upon the ears
of his friends in the cabin, elimted ringing
shouts from the lips of the young amateurs.

“Yes, Kitsie,” re lied t e young hunter, ,“I
managed to pull t ugh red-skin ranks and
ro g floods, and I not only got my good horse
back put I rescued Miss Jeannette. Here, lift
her down. Kit; she’s almost dead with terror
and cold.” '

Tenderly the old man assisted the maiden to
the ground and conducted her into the cabin
where she was, with a cry of joy, clasped in the
arms of Augusta Darre.

, “Oh, Jeannette, my darling! I thank God
yognare safe! But, child, you are wringing
we . ,

“ I have 'ust come out of the' river, Gusta,”
“ Buckskin , Phil
rode in after me, and we had a terrible time of
it before we escaped.”

“ Then the Indians overtook you?” asked

Aug-Suite. _

“ es, the dirty wretches cauglht me and took
me in an old canoe over to a lit e island in the
river, but the flood bounced them, I tell
and when they

on
had to scramble for their ives
take care 0‘ myself: but I al—
most laughed, Gusta, when I saw a wave upset
their canoe and 3 ill them out into that awful
flopd. To 6808 the rush of the water I climbed
u_ n a big roc . and don’t you think a. big bear
c had up after me, and I e . t who hadn’t
been afraid of the thunder an lightning, he and
13d..have had trouble. He would snap at the
lightning and strike at it, and then, when it
would thunder, he would crouch down. and at

' last he slipped, I guess, and tumbled off into the

BWift-l‘uShiDg water. Then you had ought to

have heard me scream, Gusta'” '

“ I beam you, you little minx!” declared Old

Kit. campletely astounded?» the child’s calm-

 

 

ness of spirit and clearness of mind after what
she had (gust passed through. “ I hearn you,”
continue Bandy, “and thought it war a. young
painter.”

Jeannette burst into a peal of merry laughter,
and turning to Augusta, asked:

“ ho is that queer old coon, Gusta?”

Augusta could not help smiling, and for an
answer she ave the maiden a formal introduc-
tion to Old ’it, also to those of the amateurs
who were present.

The old detective, and the boys, too, were de-
lighted with the girl’s pretty face, her sparkling
eyes and childish figure.
she was one of those rare types of girlhood in
which are combined a wild, vivacious spirit,
a kind, fearless heart and a quick, active brain—
in short, a merry—hearted little madcap.

Little Buckskin secured his horse near by,
and then entered the cabin, hatlcss and dripping
wot. i.
“ Here comes another drowned rat!” cried Old
Kit, as the boy entered.

“Yes, I’m slightly moist, Kitsie, but I’ve been
in someawful wet water lately.”

“ I should roclamate,boy1 I see’d the hull 0’
your wild ri 0 up to the time you reached the
rock on which that gal stood, and as I couldn’t
see an thing of you after that, I supposed you’d
gone own in the waves.”

“ Oh, but I had the Worst time getting in
horse away from the Ingins,” Buckskin replie .
“ I got in ahead of the reds and hurrying on toa
narrow place in the canyon proceeded to block
the way by shooting horses as they came up.
After I got the drove stopped and closely acked
into the canyon, down swept a lot of ngins
from above, and I had to scatter. I jumped
over onto a pony and run alogg on the backs of
the herd, for they were wedg in there so close
that you couldn’t haVe dropped a bullet to the
ground. To my sur )I‘lSB met an Ingin that
come prancing over t e drove from below, and,
right there, we locked horns on the backs of
them horses. Down we went, and it’d have
made your heart break to see our heels twink-
ling round among them ponies. The critters
got scared at the rumpus on their backs, and
they made a lunge, a gap was made, and we two
warriors leaked through to the ground. As luck
’d have it, a mustang drove a foot into the red-
skin’s stomach and he curled up like a sick bear.
Then I jum to my feet, and after a few min-
utes’ squeezing I got back onto a pony, crawled
along over the herd, till I come to my own
horse, which I dropped astride of, and then
speaking to him he turned and waded throu h
t em ponies like a buflfalo throu h mist. T 9
whole drove followed; the blocka e was broken,
and away went the whole gang_pell-mell, clat-
ter-te—clatter, with a. rush and a Jump, down the
canyon—over Ingins, over rocks over brush—
through the gloom—through the ’bieze of light—
ning—with the rear and bang of thunder to

cheer them on. On we went, all together, till.

we reached the river, “and until I heard
Jeannette there, whispering for help, when I
left the drove and set sail to her rescue and—
Well, here we all are. I am sorry I didn’t
get (your horses, Bob, but I done the best I
coul .” '

“ Of course you did, Buckskin. 7 Don’t let the
loss of our nies trouble you, my brave boy,”
replied Ma vern. “ I think that you now deserve
a ittle rest, both of body and mind.” _

“ He’s tougher nor a blacksnake whip,” assur-
ed Old Kit,; “but let him pass through a few
years 0’ married life, with a Screech-owl, and it
won’t be long till he will begin  look like an
Aztec ruin. Give me a nest 0’ Wild-cats, a grjz.
le bear, a cyclone—anything but a struggle with
a Sabina Bandy. Buckskin, take my advice
anflppever git married—never fall in love with a

a

Buckskin’s face flushed slightly at this and
when he and Jeannette were seen to exchange
glances Bob Malvern discovered that the whim-
sical old detective was treading upon more sa-
cred ground than he had sup , or, in other
words, that his advice had come too late! Buck-
skin loved Jeannette, for this was not the first
time they had met. However, the young hun-
ter accepted Kit’s adVice good~naturedly, and
retired to the adjoining room to exchange his
wet buckskin for a dI'V sum . .

The room with a place, With a roann
fire on the hearth, was given up to Augusta an
Jeannette, when the latter proceeded to dry her
clothin as well as circumstances would rmit.

Old  , Little Buckskin and Bob lvern
finally sat down to discuss the situation. The
abduction of Colonel Darre was the question
that ,now came up.’ Little Buckskin and Bob

Malvern expressed their opinions regarding the

They saw at once that

A

 

matter quite freely. Old Kit listened to them
until they were through, then said:

“ Boys, I think you’re both ofi‘ your base—«m
a cold trail. I believe he has fallen into the
hands of Utah Bill and his band of cut-throats.
I am even now, boys—but mum’s the word—in
these parts lookin’ up a case in which Colonel
Zebulon Darre fl ures to a certain extent and if
I succeed you’ll ear somethin’ drap hef’ty like .
down 111 Old Kaintuck. But I never dreamed o”
the colonel bein’ up hereaways, and it m'ay be
dashed unfortunate for him that he is.”

. “I can’t imagine what trouble he is involved
1n, Kit,” remarked Malvern, not a little sur-
prised by the old detective’s words.

‘ “ Time will tell perhaps,” answered Bandy.
‘ 1 had a part 0’ the case pretty well worked up.
but this new trouble may mix things up again.
The fu’st thing we do we’d better see if we can’t
find the old man. But here arises another ques--
tion: what’ll we do with these two little ale!
We can’t leave ’em here; it won’t do to sen ’em.
home alone, and it’ll work a great hardship on

them to take them ale: 1:.” .

“ I would su gest that the girls decide the i
matter themse ves in the morning,” was Mal— ' ‘
vern’s pro sition.

“ That’l do,” Old Kit assented.

The matter was thus settled, for the time
being.

A close watch was kept over the cabin during
the entire night.

At dayli rht the next morning two rancheros
from Zane s Ranch arrived at the cabin in
search of the missmg girls and Colonel ‘Darre.

They rc ortcd the country along the way" ‘:

clear of Illf ians, and after the situation had been
fully discussed. the maidens concluded to return
to the ranch With the rancheros, whom Jean-
ne’tte knew to be brave and trusty men. '

Little Buckskin gave them his horse to ride,
for not one of the other horses had yet been re-
covered. " ‘

With many kind wishes for each other’s
safety, the maidens finally took leave of their
gallant friends and lovers, and with the ranch-
eros started down the valley. '

In less than an hour afterward Old Kit, Little
Buckskin, and the four amateurs were moving
up the river toward the mountains. ,

The old detective had his reasons for behaving
that Colonel Darre had been carried off into
the mountains by the foll0wers of Utah Bill,
and while he was ignorant of the exact where-
abouts of the outlaw’s stronghOId, he was satiak
fied as to the course in which it lay.

Night found them far-advanced into the hills;

They went into cam on the banks of the
Arkansas. They s the. night in rest and
quiet, and early the next morning resumed their
Journey.

They soon came to the mouth of a large creek,
known at that time as Black Water, and as
they could not cross it, Old Kit said: \

“ Boys, we’ll have to foller this creek several
miles afore we can cross but it ’11 not be much
outen our way, after all. ’

So they turned up the creek. and at noon
stopped upon its banks to rest and partake of a
cold dinner. - , ‘

Up the stream could be heard a sullen roar of
water, and, filled With curios1ty, Bob Malvem

sai .

“ Boys, I’m going to run up there and look at
that waterfall While you fellows are eating, for
I’m not at all hungry._ ’

So he took up his rifle and departed. A few
minutes’ walk brought him to where the creek
made an abrupt bend, and at this point he found
-—not a cascade, but a re ids down which the
'water rushed With fearf ve ocity, and plung-
ing against the rocky ‘bank in the angle of the
stream, rolled under itself, thus producing 9,.
continuous roll and boil of the angry wav
that in the shadows seemed appalling, , At Si 10;:
of the mighty caldron, Bob Malvern s ‘
back and grasped the bough of a pine tree.
The swift, sw1rling roll 8.1K boil of the flood.
Eva: poslsles h of a horribllfi fascination that at “

rs we -nig overcame m and '
into its embrace. dragged' hm

Recovering 1118 comp08ure, Malvern gazed in
wonder and amazement upon ,the water. He
saw sticks, logs .of wood, and even rocks rolled' '
over and under in that continuous swirl of the
flood. and suddenly the young hunter
and a cry of horror burst from his
saw what he was certain wasahuman form‘
thrown up by the undercurrent of the whirl-
pool, shot forward on the surface and again

uried under the rollin waves! a

For a minute Bob - lvern stood like one
transfixed With horror. Had he real y seen a
human form? Had some unfortunate hunter 

 

 

 

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miner been drawn by the mystic power of the

whirl i into its embrace and there held and
toss and toyed with as a cat does with a
mouse?

These were the questions that reVOIVed through
the oung man‘s mind, and the more he ponder-
ed t em over, the stronger became his convic-
tion that he was laboring under both a mental
and an optical delusion. So he turned and
walked away a few paces, passed his hand over
his brow, and then augluxl to himself to think
that he had permitted the solitude of the place
and the dizzy whirl and roar of the whirlpool to
fill his mind with such horrible vagaries. And,
to make sure that he had completely shaken off
the spell, be turned and walked boldly back to
the edge of the creek.

As he did so a human form standing upright,
with one arm extended clutching a short stick,
the eyes sunken and hollow, the bearded face

- ghastly, the hair and tattered garments drip-

ping, rose half out of the water, and with the

rapidity of the current advanced toward him a"

few feet, then it was quickly sucked downward
by the undercurrent irom sight, the extended
hand, seeming to strike out at him as the bod
disappeared. Nor was this all; a short, blac
log {)0 ped upward out of the water, fell with a
low p ash and then disappeared, closely follow-
ed by a second lifeless human form whose threat
was clutched in one hand as if in a death—sting-
gle with itself.

Bob Malvern started anew with a shudder of
horror. There was no mis’aking the evidence
of his senses now. The black whirlpool was a
flea of death—holding Within its embrace the

y of its victims, with which it seemed to
play and sport with devilish delight.

Almost sick at heart the young man turned

" from the horrible scene, and began to retrace

his steps, back to his friends.
lie had gone but a few paces when the figure
of a man glided from behind a rock and con-
fronted him. ‘ ‘
He stopped short and started back. The man

, . before him was his rival and sworn enemy, Paul

Dumontl '

 

CHAPTER VIII.’
1 A PAIR OF OLD SOAKS.
“ PAUL DUMONT!” burst involuntarily from

a Bob Malvern’s lips as he recognized the face of

his rival and toe.

“ The same Bobby Malvern,” replied the man,
with a haughty sneer; “ I know you are sur-
prised to meet me here; and two years have not

' ,eifa'ced from my memory the cowardly blows
 you once

ave me”

“Paul umont, ou deserved every blow,” re-r
lied Malvern all ' old-time courage asserting
tself. “ and, ii the truth was known, you ought

to be hung. What are you doing here i”
“ That is none of your business, Bob Mal-

‘ vern.” \

“Perhaps not, but the oflicers of justice may
make it theirs.” '

“ Do you mean to insmuate that my presence
here, any more than yours, is. evidence of

W] 0165?”

. “ out of respect for your honor makes me

suspect you of everything Vile.”
‘ You

pertinent scoundrell You shall re-

:spect the power of my good right arm i” cried

the man, advancing menacingly.
“Stand back, Paul Dumont,” warned Bob,
defiantly. , _ ' _
“Curse your hide,” hissed Dumont, “your

' brute force will not kee you out of that Death

Pool! I shall laugh wi glee when I see our
form chasin those of the villains already t ere
——villains w 0 were caught prowling is rough
the hills like you, to steal, or rob, or murder.
Bob Malvern, command you to throw down
that revolver and surrender!”

Bob laughed in the man’s face.

A footstep sounded behind him. He turned

‘ his head, and as he did so received a blow from

hind that felled him half-stunned to the earth.
unced upon by four burly ruf-

flans who had on concealed near, overpower-

ed. disarde and his hands securely bound.

“Paul Dumont, what cowardly work‘ is this?”

i I . the young man demanded, as soon as he was

 . thieves and c lax-jumpers.

able to speak. , .

I“ We’re not cowards, young teller." spoke up
one of thefour, “ but honest men that have a
brave duty to rfonn in dispOsin’ o’ road-agents.
'We’re members 0’

tie Mountain Police, and we’re bad, bad men to
. trifle wit ” ’ v
s .“I can ove to entire innocence,” asserted

cha name; I am
with} company of fiffia hunting e;-

      

 

._ protruding .

“You’ll be given a fair and impartial trial
sick as is uaranteed b the constitootion o’ the
Mountain olice, and o the United States, and
either set at libert or chucked into the Death
Pool,” was the rep y, iVen in a heartless tone
that was full of devilis significance.

Bob had little faith in thisprofessed character
of the four strangers, and none at all in the
honor of Paul Dumout. He could not imagine
what the Kentuckian was doing there. It was
the first intimation he had of his being away
from his home, and it appeared to him as being
very singular, if not mysterious, that not only
he, but Colonel Darre and his daughter, should
be there, in that country. What the presence
of one had to do with the presence of the other
he could not conceive, nor could he convince
himself that it was wholly a coincidence.

That Dumont bad influence or command over
the four men Bob had not a doubt, and knowing
him——Dumont——to be a coward at heart, he felt
that but little mercy would be shown him under
any circumstances.

Dumont finall y took one of the men aside and
talked to him in an undertone for a few mo-
ments; then he turned and went away. ‘.

The man came back, and said:

“ Boys, we’ll escort this young rambler up to
the ‘ Bar,’ and hold him for trial when our Asso—
ciate Justice returns.”

“ All right; then, forward march, Mister
Rambler!”

With their prisoner, the four “ Mountain Po-
lice,” as the fellows had styled themselves, set
off toward the north. They moved along at as
lively a pace as the rough and tortuous way
would permit.

It was nearly night when they reached the
“ Bar,” as they had termed their rendezvous.
It was in a most dreary and desolate place, sur-
rounded by great, pine—clad hills.

“ Here, stranger, is the Bar 0’ Justice,” an—
nounced one of Bob’s captors, as the halted
under a cluster of trees; “here the ountain
Police’deal out justice to them as will transgress.
The Judge, or his Associate, will be here, mobbe,
to-night, yet, and whenever he comes you’ll get
your tria .”

“ Trial l” sueered Bob; “ what kind of a trial?
Why have I been dragged away here from the
friends by whom I Could rove that I am but an
amateur hunter here in t ese mountains? I can
tell you: you mean to murder me to gratify
that scoundrel, Paul Dumont!”

“ Say young man, you don’t want ter git on
any high boss ’bout ere, ’r you’ll git yanked
for contempt 0’ court,” suggested one. of the,
“police.” ‘ You want to un erstandthat we’re
honest, and won’t take sass from anybody; nor
you don’t want to be too hard on that feller you
call Dumont, for he’s a bad, bad man.”

Night coming on a fire. was lighted under the
trees, for the mountain air was chilly.

Malvern, who had been bound to a tree, saw
that the place was a V eneral rendezvous, and
had the appearance 0. a miner’s camp, there
being quite a number of picks and spades—also
cooking utensils—scattered about. The men
themselves were dressed as miners, but .to Bob
they had the appearance of Villains.

One of the party, addressed as “ Molly,” pro-
ceeded to prepare supper. This did not take
long, and after they had refreshed themselves,
all took seats around the fire, and lighting their
pipes began to smoke and talk.

bus they had passed fully two hours, all the
while wondering why the Judge” did not
come, when they were suddenly startled by a
veice calling out in a sharp, falsetto tone:

“Hello, down there!” _

Instantly the four “ policemen ” sprung to
their feet and grasped their revolvers.

A few moments of silence followed.

.“ Hello,down there, I say!” again that voice
piped out from the gloom. ‘ -

“Who the thunder are youi”, demanded
H Molly. ” . '

‘f Why, don’t you know me?” returned the

e

vozc .
“It’s that ’are darned old bummer from
Whisky-Famine, Bill Losh,” asseverated one of
the men. ,1  l
“ Advance, on old sinner, and give the coun-
Molly

tersilgn l” shou .. ,
“' 11 do it with all my heart,” nded the
intruder. and the next moment a wre had-look-

ing s cimen of humanity made his appearance
with the light. ‘ __
Hisa e wasuncertain, for dissi tion seemed,
to have eft him a total wreck.
under medium size, with a beardlessface, a red,
bulbo nose, and a complexion of mottled hues.
His c othes were torn and d1rty,his toes were
from his shoes, his hat was an

e was rather

ancient aflair, the rim beingkfastened up on,
each side and running to a pa , fore and aft. t

Altogether Bill Losh', or Bummer Bill. as be
was known to the “ police,"’,was a hard citizen
whom the want of water, and food, and a surfeit
of jim-jams had reduced to a wretched vaga-
bo ( ‘

n1. =

“ Hullo, Bill!” exclaimed one of the “ police,”
“ what in thunder ye dom’ ’way over here?”

“ Prospectin’, by Jeerusa-lem!” was the old
bummer 5 reply; “ and darned glad I be to strike
your camp. Say, got anything to drink?” -

“ N othin’ but water.” _

“Water? Oh, git away! D’ye think I want
to fill up on sich stufi’? It’s too bulky—got no
substance—no color, no backbone.” _

“And you say you’re over here prospectm’,
eh?” . .

“You betI be; I’d a dream t’other nlght—
Hullo! who’s this you got haltered .up here?”
and he noticed Malvcrn for the first time.

“ Time’ll tell; but go on with your dream.” _

“ I dreamed that my fortune ’waited me in
these ’ere hills, and somethin’ whispered: ‘Bum-
mer Bill, you’ve laid ’round Whisky-Fanune’s
saloons and drunk p’izen, and lived like a pup
long cm ugh; now git up and lunge out into the
hills like a Texas steer tear down the mountains
like an ’arthgwake and help yerself to the golden
treasures.’ a] I told my dream to a darned
old spider-legged bummer that I used to know
up to Leadvillc, named Shadrac Poppel, and
who I shared my bed on the ground with often
and he begged me to take him in as a Silent par
to carry my tools and cook and do _ the 1ttle
drud cry of the camp. Boss old Idiot. that I
was took Shadrac in. The. good miners 0’
Whisky-Famine kindly furms ed me tools
provisions and sich things as I needed, and told
me to go, and if I ever showed niy_face in that
camp ag’in afore I was wu’th a million they’d
never ’sociate with me ag’in. Old Shad thou rht
they were darned glad to git rid 0’ me, bu _1f
they war they’ll rue it, dash ’em, they Will.

hills, s’archin for .the vision 0’ my dream. At
sunset to—night we camped under the brow o’ a.
lofty bill. I eat my grub and laid down to
dream, and when I awoke Shadrac was gone
and so was, the rifle and the last dollar that
the Whisky-Faminites had raised me. That
infernalated old bummer had stolen me blind
and skipped, the Lord only knows whar; and so
I pulled up and drifted dowu this way. Gentle-
men,-I' hope you’ll ’low me, ground enough to
slee on and a little,- patch o’sky for kiver.”

ou stay here,” declared one of t 9 “police.”
,"I’m sorry 01d Shadrac has disturbed your
dream.” ‘ _

“So’m I,” replied the old bummer, “and if
ever I git my e eson him, I’ll lam the thief into,
muish.” I’m a ad man when I git riled up,
an — ,

“ Oh! yes; you’re a dais , a high-heeled pran-I
cer, ar’n t you, you old bi ous liar?”

The last words issued from the lips of an un—
seen person in the shadows on the south ‘ Side of
the camp, but before the “ police” had time to
rise from their seats, a tall, u_n aml man, fully
as dilapidated as Bummer B11 , an even more
homely, _
ed the party, carrying an old, long-

e. .
“In sound of his voice Bob Malvern started.
It sounded somewhat like the voice of Kit
Bandy, and the size of the man corresponded
with that of the old detective. His face, how-
ever, he could not see, for the man kept his back

to h1m. .

“ Shadrac Peppell by the blisterin’ centipedesl
That’s him, boys—the old thievm’ bummer
Leadville!’ cried Old Bill, as the new-comer ap-
proached. .. ‘

- The four “policemen ” quickly searched the
.man from head to foot, but seein he was evena
more harmless~looking individu , than OldBill, ‘
they relapsed into their repose on the earth, one
of them saying: ‘ - v

” y
sullel reckon the were both kicked out of camp,”
said Molly asi e to one of his friends, “ or
more. He’s onlybeen in Whisky-Famine’bout
nuisance.”

to his full "hight “ I heard every blessed
begsted, blamed I'Word’you told ’bout your mg
(133% with ‘ you, and ’boutjme. stealin’
fillings. Now, you old soorbutic falsifier,

ham y ofl your base. _You’ve been outs n your“ 

 

But, away Shadrae Poppel and I went into the :

“ es, certainly;’,we’re only too led to have .

emerged from the bushes and a proach- 
rreled-

“ A fine pair of  Old human, ,

they’ve been threatenin’ 01d Bill for a week or ‘ I
a month ,wd’s made himself an intolerable ,

“ Ya-as ” drawled Poppel. straightening him- -

Bill Losh. and ’bout your teki‘n am into  '

  

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old head ever since on took a drink of waterto-

day. I told on it’ throw you into s sms o’
the brain. entlemen, that man, Old ill—Old
Bummer Bill, got up outen his bed to-night and
wandered off here and lied to you.”

“ I told the truth, gou old vagabond, and you
know it!” retorted 1d Bill; “there you stand
'with the very gun in your hand, you fanciful old
liar.” ' x

“ Let me have that rifle,” demanded one of the
“ olicemen ” rising to his feet.

‘hadrac Po‘ppel passed the e(gun to the man,
then threw 0 his hat, shov up his sleeves,
lea into the air, and shaking his fist at Old
Bi exclaimed:

' “’You petrified old soaker, you’ve stirred up a

hull litter o’ tiger cats in me, and you’ve rot to
take water or get your nose scattered a] over
your face. tell you I’m no thief, and
while 3% war together I treated you like a lady,
an —-

> “ Stop right there,” interrupted Old Bill

throwing open his shirt collar and squaring off
for fight.

Highly amused at the old bummer’s wrath, and
eager to see the fight that seemed inevitable, the
four “policemeu’ arose to their feet.

“ Come at me!” challenged Shadrac——“ come,
and I’ll tie you all up in a cramp—1’11 give you
.a jim-jam that’ll jerk yer toe—nails off—come,
rub ag’inst me, you old sun-dried cat, and I’ll
dissolve the partnershi , hereto ore existin’
’twixt Poppel and Los . Wooh! I’m mad—
I’m on fire! Lord! if I had a revolver I’d make
a sieve outen your carcass too quick! Give me
.a revolver, men—give me one quick before I

' bu’stl’”

, “And me one, too. if you want to see some
fancy work," exclaimed Old Bill; “ I’ll riddle
him from heels to head.”

“Here! here! here! here!” exclaimed the four
“police,” and each of them lifted his revolver
from his belt and handed it out to the old bum-
mirs, eager that they mig'ht exterminate each
0t er. I .

Quickly the foes grabbed at the weapons, and
with the haste and greediness of a hungry dog
‘endeavoring to carry off two bones, the four re-
volvers were snatched out of the “ policemen’s ”
hands—each of the bummers getting two; then,
astlhey simultaneously cocked them, Old Shadrac
sai : ‘

“ Pard, these tellers are most dashed anxious
we should kill each other-esee?” ~
“Yes, I see! So I says—‘ Hands up gentle-

"= men, please!” and Old Bill; turning, leve ed each

of the revolvers on a “policeman!”

he covered the other two men! .
' The four assumed “ Mountain Police” started
back aghast. In an instant they saw their

 

 

The fellow advanced and released Malvern.

“Now fall into line, all four of you—quick!
or by the horn 0’ old Joshua, I’ll tumble your
meat-houses.”

The four miners fell into line with their hands
raised above their heads.

“ Now, Bob, will you proceed to search them
four galoots?”

“ With pleasure, my dear Doctor of Dudes,”
re lied Malvern.

e found upon the “ policemen’s ” persons
some money, a supply of revolver cartridges and
one derringer. In each ono’s boot was a long
knife.

The detectives took possession of all these ef-
fects except the money, which was returned to
the ruflians.

“Now,” said Old Kit, after the search had
been completed. “ we ought to shoot every mo~
ther’s son 0’ you for bein’ outlaws~followers 0’
Utah Bill.”

.“ We deny the charge,” replied one of the
men: “ We are not outlaws, but Mountain
Police, and—”

“ Mountain Po—granny,” interrupted Old
Kit; “that’s too crystal-like; don’t talk to old
boomers like us that way. But, as we’ve no de-
sire to stain our hands with your blond. we’ll let
you off this time with the understandin’ that if
ever you’re caught in these diggiu’s ag’in you’ll
be promptly handled. Good-night, my gay
Cavaliers l” - .

With this the old detectives lowered their re-
volvers and, turning, left the camp, followed by
Malvern, who was not astonished at Old Kit let-
ting the villains go.

Out in the shadows where the could see and
yet not be seen, the trio haltrx , when Old Kit
said:

“Bob, this Old Bummer Bill is my pard, Icha-
bod ”Flea, brave and handsome as they make
em.

“ Glad am I to meet you, Ichabod Flea, and I
congratulate you upon your fancy performance.
I enjoyed the denouement very much, I assure

ou.”

“ Yes, ood thing Kitsie, that we met just
when we did,” said F ea, “ but then we’ve been
in the habit of meeting at the right time these
years and years.”

B: Where did you leave the boys, Kit?” asked

b

“Where you left us at noon; but when on
failed to return at the right time, Deck Ro ins
and I went to look for you, and we caught sight
0’ you being promenaded ofl.’ into the Hills.

,3 I told Deck to run back for ,the rest 0’ the boys
“ I’calls too! Hands up!” added Shadrac, as , I
' do so to keep due north till they struck the Ar-

blunder—that they had been deceived into giv- j

ing their only weapons into the hands of two
masquerading bummers.

Never were men so cunninglywoutwitted as
were ose four, and although they were two to
,one, ey instantly saw in the changed voices,
' the blazmg eyes and the fixed features of the as-
sumed bummers, that the were confronted by

' two desperate men instea of two besotted vaga-

bonds. . -
‘- Bob Malvern’s heart leaped into his threat, for
‘he now discovered that the two pretended bum-
.mers fwere Kit Bandy, the Border Detective, and
a ar . ‘ .
he four outwitted men stood motionless,
speechless, thunderstruck.

The two detectives stood as ,motionless, their
fingers on the triggers of their revolvers, their
eyes upon the foe. '

“Oh. we .hold and] hand, gentlemen,” as-
sured Old Kit, “‘ and the fu’stone 0’ on that un-
dertakes to kick ’11 git his own in ‘cine hypo-
dermically injected into his system. Throw up

a your hands, gent] men—up high—that’s it!
ow, you feller on t 6 right advance and untie
that youngSter-go I”
'The fellow started toward Malvern with a
muttered curse. In passing a tree a thought
fitmckhhigh and quick as a flash he sprung be-

e n .

a “crack!” went Bandy’s revolver, and the

hark‘flewfrom the side of the pine, and a bowl
‘bu’rst‘from the “ liceman’s ” lips. The

treewas not large enoug to cover the feIIOW’B

, and a rt of rm bein re“
‘ceived the shit); ' one a ‘ g , ‘
“Come out In behind that, you scamp!”

. commanded Kit and another shot chi pad the
bark from the side of the tree and grazed the
fellow’s arm ageing . ‘ _

“Don’t shoot! don’t, shoot!” howled the
we from his retreat.

untie that man!”

 

and try and overtake me, but if they failed to

kansaw and there wait till I joined ’em. If the
be S had only overtaken me we’d ’a’ saved you
a ong walk, for them fellers are outlawsfifol.
lowers of Utah Bill. But I reckon it is best as
it is, for by watching them we may find out
where Colonel Darre is concealed. That’s why
we didn’t kill them on the spot Robert.”

“I am satisfied,” declared Bob, “ that those
four fellows are the tools of a bitter enemy of
mine, for that enemy I met may, and it was
lfiy his orders, I know, that I was brought

ere.

“ Indeed? What’s his name?” asked Bandy.

“Paul Dumont.”

“Of Kaintucky?”

“ Yes, sir.”

. “And you know him, eh?” , ,

“ I thrashed him the day I left Kentucky, two

ears ago,” replied Bob, “and he holds no love
or me for it.”

“ I should say

no. But, boy, that’s the very
identical chap

am hunting down,” observed

1 .

“ I think those four fellows expect him here
yet. to-night, and we can get him.’ _

“ No, no: we don’t want to pull him yet. It‘s
supposed he’s playing a double game. and that’s
what we’re tryin’ to git 011130;: 'And it ma, be
that he’s ot onto the move against him, w . ich
acgpunts or the disappearance of Colonel Dar-
re. ' -

“ He and Darre are the best 0f friends,” Bob
averred. - . _ _ .

“If Dumont is the Villain he is suspected of
being, he is no friend of the colonel’s. But,
IchabOd. you’d betterremam here and watch
these fellows, and see if our man does put in an
appearance. I’ve an idea they’ve a secret hid-
ing—place somewhere hereabouts. Bob and me-
’11 return to our friends. and if on strike an -
thiitg reportto me at Whisky- amine, fort -
wit .” a . , . , . ,

“I’ll do so Kitsie.” h

“ Well, gala-night Bummer Bill!”

“ Good-night, hadrac—good—mght, Bob !” ‘.

 

 

‘and starts back from the river.

 

..___1

And with this the men parted—Kit and Mal- I
vern hurryin away, leaving Ichabod Flea to,
watch the on ws. r

CHAPTER IX.

A VILLAIN’S DEED. I

. DOWN upon the placid bosom of the Arkansas
river a small Indian canoe was floating at the»
Wlll of the current. It contained a female oc-
011me whose features and dress told that In-
dian blood coursed throu h her veins. She was - '
a young woman—possib y not over two-and-
twenty, and was possessed of no little 3 imetry
of features for one of her race. Her cad was
bare, the braids of her long black hair hanging
to her waist. She was richly, almost royally
dressed in the varied and gorgeous colors so\
pleasing to the save e eye. She was seated
upon a jaguar-skin w ile at her feet lay a bun-
d e of robes and blankets, all of which were
neat and clean and in keeping with the air of
Indian royalty that seemed to surround this lone
voyager. .

An anxious, eager look rested u on her face ,
and as her dark eyes swept either 5 ore ever and ,
anon and then dropped to the bundle lying at '
her eet, something like a shadow of sorrow
passed over her brow. .

From whence came she? Whither was she
going? There was no Indian villagedown the
river, and those above were far away in the
mountains.

Keeping in the middle of the stream she drift--
ted slowly on, in and out of the sunshine and '
shadows that fell upon the waters. Birds sung
on shore as” she passed along, as if to cheer her
in her loneliness, and now and then a mountain

out would look down with wonder from some

istant cliff upon the creeping boat.

Finally the woman is startled by the barking
of a dog, back some distance, from the river.

She turns her eyesshoreward and listens. The
barking of the do continues. A faint smile
passes over her due face. She takes up the
paddle and turns the out toward the shore. ,

With the ease and grace of one accus ed to
the oar she handles the light blade; idly.
the frail craft glides across the current an fin-
ally touches the shore. f ,

Rising to her feet the woman steps out upon
the beach, and taking up the boat’s painter she
ties it to a low, hanging limb. Then she turns

She had scarcely gone ten steps when she I
heard the sound of feet and lifting her eyes she
beheld a white man coming toward her.
sight of him she uttered a cry, half 'of by, half
fear; then, with outstretched arms, 5 earning
eyes and radiant face, she ran toward him cry-
ing out in good English:

“ Oh, White Pine! My brave, my love!”

The man sto ped, started back as if from an
apparition an seizing the woman by one of her .
hands, exclaimed: « ‘

, “ Heavens! June, what has brought you
here?” '

“My love! my love, White Pine!” cried~the
woman, distressed by he. man’s cold reception.
9h, why does White ine not seem glad to see j

une? ~

. “I am astonished!” White Pine thundered.

“ How came you here, woman? Who brought
on?

y “ I came alone, down the long! river, bringing

in yonder canoe a message of love to my bus-

band,” she answered. - .

“1 .believe you are lying, June—I believe
you’ve a pack of your Ute friends near to ‘mur-.
der me 1” . ,

“No, no, no! ,Wbll’e Pine thinks wrong of
his wife. She would allow no harm to come to
him. It is her love that brought her down the
long river to meet him.”

“ How in thunder did you know I was here?”

“ The little birds that sung to June when her
heart was freak—when shewas queen in the great
Ouray’s camp—came again over the mountains,
and  their songs told her where her White Pine
was. < .
“Squaw!” exclaimed the man, “
ling me a lie !” I

“June’s tongue is not crooked. ~ She would  i

not lie to her love!” ..
“ Oh, the deuce! I’m sick of that—you sick- 1
June; I am no Indian. anal]

you are tel- iii";

ened me long ago,
cannot love a s new.” 
b “(But on d1 loze‘June, and becameher bu; 

an o 0“ gave or man ret. , things, on it
told her ofthe pale-face pegp e, attuyl sung to .her
hke the birds, and her. heart 'washappyr All" - .
the world seemed like sunshine and flowers and ' "
musnc to June, then; and if White Pine will go,
with me tomy canoe I will show him that which

 

 

 

 
  
  
  
  
     
    
 
    

 
  
  
  
  
   
   
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
   
   
   
 
    

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Little Buckskin,~ the Young Prairie Centaur. 

 

 

will make his heart glad and happy and rejoice
that June has come to him.”

“ Squaw, I want nothing to do with you I” was
the man’s heartless response.

“ Must June go back to her people alone?”

“ I did not bring you here—go awa —let me
alone. If on CX'OSS my path again, will kill
you!” was hite Pine’s reply.

‘! Why has White Pme turned against his
wife?”

“"Go away—leave me!” he cried. “ I must
0.

He turned his back upon her and started off.
With a sad cry she sprung forward and seized
his arm, and with a wild, pleading look, cried
out:

“ Oh, let me go with you!”

The heartless wretch flung her aside, adding
insult to injury. The woman clutched at her
throat as if choking. A sob broke from her
lips, her chest heaVed, her eyes blazed, her
white teeth shone between her lips. The woman
find a spirit. A demon had been aroused in her

cart.

“ I will follow White Pine to his white friends,”
she now fair] hissed; “ I will tell them of his
treachery. 6 shall never whisper his love in
another maiden’s ear I”

“ You threaten me, eh, you black wench!”

, As he spoke, the villain struck her a violent
blow in the face) - She reeled backward and fell.
Before she could rise, the coward drew a der-
ringer and fired. With a moan, the poor crea-
ture sunk in a lifeless heap to the earth.

White Pine glanced around him with the look
of a murderer on his face. Then he dragged the
body into some bushes, advanced to the river,
and cuttin the painter of the squaw’s boat, sent
the craft rift.

With hasty footsteps the man then went on
his way, though it was evident from the furtive
glances he cast around him that his deed had

' unnerved him

He hurried on through the dense pine woods
for nearly two miles, when he came in sight of
a low log-cabin standing at the foot of the
mountain. When Within a hundred ards of
the building he stop , passed his ban over his
brow and uttered a ow curse.

For a moment he stood as if in doubt, then
turned to the right, and passing around the
cabin, moved on up the valley running back
into thehills. A mile further on, he came to
a little mining-camp known at that time—but
now entirely abandoned and forgotten—as
Whisky-Famine. It was com of a score
of log-cabinsgrouped together at the foot of a
towering blu . »

Whisky-Famine had rung into existence at
the time the great mming excitement
swept through the mountains of Southern
Colorado and revealed the wealth of the Lead-
ville and Gunnison districts. A dozen adven-
turesome spirits had struck the valley and
“si ” of untold treasure, and at once ro-
0665318 to locate a camp. For a while t ey
were at a loss for a name, when a facetious
old bummer suggested that, in view of the fact
that not a “ drap” of liquor was to be had at

the christening, they call it Whisky-Famine,

and-Whisky-Famine was the name unanimous-
ly agreed u :1; although it was but a short
time until t are was an abundance of “miner’s
comfort” in every cabin in the cam . There
was one place, in particular, called T e Miner’s
Mecca. and it was straight toward the o n door
of this saloongthat White Pine advanc .

Entering the cabin, he made his wayto the
bar without noticing the la bummers who re-
clined on benches waiting t e call of some one
to step ii and “ irrigate,’ and said:

“ Soho to, give me some whisky.”

“ Why, major,” exclaimed the proprietor of
the Mecca. “ vat ish de matter mit you? You
seem up all broke.”

“ I’m in a deuce of a hu , Scholte, to get
off,” replied White Pine,as he rank to the dregs

'a glass of raw whisky; “I’m going into the

mountains with a prospecting party. Give me
another glass of the same.” V
After restorin%V his nerves with repeated
lasses of liquor, hite Pine left the Mecca and
began retracing his steps down the valley. He
hackin sight of the cabin at the foot
of the hill, and made his way toward it.
At the door he was met by an elderly man,

>whose general appearance told that he was a
I Spaniard—a man of intelligence and noble
 beating yet upon whose

. troubl

face there was ‘a
, careworn look.

“Good-afternoon, friend Alvandez,” White
Pin sal

 

e uted. . ..
’  “Ah! it is Senor Poetic!” said the old man,
' r with a sudden start. V

“Yes, I just came down from Mecca to see
you and your daughter before I went away into
the mountains.” '

‘ “ I will call Zonita ” and the old man, rising,
left the room in which White Pine had been
seated.

In a few moments Zonita, a girl of eighteen,
came sweeping into the apartment with the
dignity of a young queen. She was a lovely
girl in form and features, with a light shining
from her dark, liquid eyes that told of the pride
gt noble birth, humble and secluded as was her

ome.

At si ht of the man whom she addressed as
Senor ostle, a faint smile of scorn curled her
lips, as she said: _

“ Pardon me, senor, but I was not expecting
you to—day.” _

“ Zonita, I did not expect to be here, either,
but I am going away to-day and may be gone a
week, and I have called to insist on an answer
to~‘m_ question of yesterday.”

“ nor,” answered the girl, sadly, “ I respect
you, but do not love you. I cannot be your
wife.”

“ Respect brings love Zonita.” '

“ Not always. It is better that I wait and be
sure of love before marriage.”

“ But I do not desire to wait longer,” declared
the villain-lover, “nor will your father sanction
further delay.” -

“ Senor, why is my father so anxious I should
marfiy you?” .

“ as he never told you, Zonita?”

“ Not a word.”

“ You know why you are living here in seclu-
sion, do you not?”

Zonita started and uttered a little c .

“What do ou know, senor?” she ha gasped.

“ I know al . I am the ver man who wrenched
the knife out of your fat cr’s hand when he
slew Colonel Arizpa at San Vicente. I know his
name is not Alvandez.”

“ And why did you not expose him there?”
asked the maiden. .

“ Because I loved you, Zonita,” was the re 1y.

.“You cannot live happily with the dang ter
of a murderer.” .

“I willtake my chances. What is your an-
swer '9‘”

“I must talk with father. Come back to-
morrow.”

The man’s brow darkened. He rose and paced
the floor for a few moments in silence, then
turned upon her.

“ Zonita, you have trifled with me long
enough. To—morrow I will return—I will put
off my trip—and when I come I Will bring a
priest and an officer. If you have not made up
your mind to marry me, I shall give your father
into the hands of the oflcer.” - .

“ Oh, Senor Postle !” began the half-distracted

l. but before she/could say more the villain
ashed out of the room and hurried away in the
direction of Whisk -Famine. ‘

A few moments ater Zonita’s father came in
and found the maiden in tears.

“Oh, my father!” she cried, wringing her .

hands in grief, “he is the man who wrenched
the. knife from you when you slew Colonel

m P,

“ lpzwer slew my friend and brother, Colonel
Arizpa!” declared the father, vehemently. “ A
conspiracy sent me an exlle here. Zonita; and
now I begin to think it is a conspiracy to rob
you of your inheritance and hap mess. But,
we are entire] helpless here—at t e mercy of
this Senor Post e.” .

“ gather, we can flee from here as we fled

ere.

“ My child, I haven’t the strength,” sadly the
father answered. .

“ Senor Postle says he Will come to-morrow
with a priest and an officer.”

“Senor Postle is a Villain! . I now believe he
is the assassin who slew my friend, and fixed the
crime on me. Oh! that I had the strength that
I once had! I would make him bow in acknowl-
edgment of the truth at my feet. But, alas! we
are at his mercy.” _

“ Father, let us burn our cahm'and flee from
here. We can take our way into the hills, and
elude our enemies. I have my rifle and we Will
not starve.” ‘ .
“ But where will we go?” .

Before Zonita could answer she was startled
b an apparition that appeared in‘ the doorway.
I was a young Indian woman. whose garments
were covered with blood, and whose wild, ter-
rified face was bruised and swollen. She was
breathing hard, and as she staggered into the

 

room, she cast onewild, imploring look at the ,
old man and his daughter, thenfell to the floor 3
m a swoon. , . ' l

“ 0h, heavens! what does this mean?” cried
Zonita.

“ Poor thing! Perhaps she is a fugitive,” the
old man suggested.

“ She is bloody! she is wounded l” exclaimed
the maiden, bending over the prostrate form.

“ The work of some white devil, I’ll be bound 1”
the old man declared. -

Lifting the woman, they placed her upon a cot
in one corner of the room. Zonita then brought
water and washed the blood from her face and
hands, and administered such restoratives as

. were at hand. In a short time the squaw re- '

covered, and when she discovered that she had
fallen into kind hands, a smile of relief drove
the hard lines of fear from her face, although it
could be seen that she was still in great ag y.
The cause of this was soon discovered in a wo d
in the shoulder that looked as though it had ~
been made by a bullet.

“You have been hurt, haven’t you?” the old
man Yquestioned, when he saw her open her eyes.

“ es, yes, but where is my bab @—my baby?”
the squaw cried, starting 11 and coking around
her in bewilderment and t en, with a wild. dea
spairing moan, sinking back in a deathlike
swoon.

 

CHAPTER X. j
A LITTLE wam IN CAMl’.

ON the banks of the Arkansas river a few
miles below Whisky-Famine, Little Buckskin
and three of the amateur hunters were encamp-
ed, awaitin the return, 'or rather the coming ‘
of Kit Ban y and Bob Malvern. Being unable
to find Kit, who had started off to follow Bob
and his ,ca tors, they had gone over to the
river, as t had instructed them to, there to
await his reappearance. '

With his usual precaution, Buckskin had se—
lected a camp flanked on two sides by perpendic-
ular cliffs and the other two sides by dense un-
dergrowth. Here the lighted a fire and pre-
pared supper, after w ‘chthey sat down to dis.
.cuss the situation.

When niglht set in Deck Rollins took the first
watch by t e river—not that they feared dan-
ger so much as that Kit might pass them by
unobserved from where their camp was lo—

cated. .

About ten o’clock Rollins was relieved by
young Lawrence, and a few minutes after the
atter had gone on duty his ears were greeted
by a faint sound that. seemed to come from up
the river. It was unlike andy sound he had ever
heard in the o n ni ht, an could not imagine
what produc it. t was only
vals, and each time it was repeated it seemed
to be coming nearer and nearer. It sounded
like the cry of a child—a baby, but that the
youth thought was im ssible' yet he was
afraid to report to his 'ends through fear of
never hearing the last of it. So he stood at
his 0st until the sound came so close that it
reac ed the ears of those at camp and brought
them down to the river. ‘ ‘

“What’s the matter down here, boy?” de-
manded Buckskin._

“ You tell,” replied Lawrence; “ there’s some

kind of a racket going on out yonder on the

river that I can’t understand.”

The moon was up, and as its light fell upon
the bosom of the river they were enabled to see
what a peared to be a canoe floatin at the
will of t e current near the middle of t estream
some few rods above them.

“ There goes an empty canoe,” said Buckskin,
“or one that seems o be empty, and yet the
noise appears to come from that direction.
Boys donft that sound to you like a l”

‘ es, like a baby’s cry, ’ responded ollins.

The boys all laughed. ,

“The. idea of a baby being out here in the
mountains floatin around in a canoe seems aw-
ful absurd,” said ittle Buckskin; “but I’ll, be
para] zed if I don’t b’lieve it’s the case.”

“ ere on earth could it have come from?" i'

“I reckon somebody up the river has had;
more of them than they could takefiare 01', and 7‘
sent a kid afloat,” was Bu0kskm’s 'opinion.
“ Just listen to its cries!” r ‘

“Maybe it’s a decoy 1'0 get us into trouble?”
suggrsted Rollins. ‘ .

‘ 1: can’t be, DeCk; that cry is too genuine.
It makes me feel a homesickness in the breast ,
that tells there’s a. baby In that canoe, and if
there ‘is an one with it he or she is dead or
asleep, and ’m $01133 ‘39 see about it.” . ~

As he concluded, Inttle Buckskin he di-
vesting hilnself of his. clothing, and. nail ,
when the (boat was nearl o posits him, 0
plunged into the river and

1..

““fi‘ltr

heard at inter- .

c out,'swimming .  h
with the ease and rapidity of a beaver, I «

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he swam on, and

ted camp as soon as his friends.

' face.

  

ii" 

 

 

his hunting-knife betwch his teeth in case of
necessity.

His friends watched him in ea erness and
silence, their eyes beaming with a ight of ad—

miration for the fearless youn hunter.

Half the distance to the mi dle of the stream
was made when to the horror of the young ama-
teurs, they beheld the head of a man in the
water who was swimming toward the boat from
lbs 0 posite shore.

“ reat heavens! that is a trap set for our
friend!” exclaimed Deck Rollins. “ Ho, Buck-
skin! there’s some one approaching from the
op osite shore.”

bother the boy heard the warning or not,
finally reached the canoe.

Standin erect in the water by treading, he
caught ho d of the gunwale 0f the boat and

red over into it. As he did so, a head rose

mm the water on the opposite side of the craft,

and a face litup with a malignant smile was re-
vealed to the youth’s, gaze.

At a glance Buckskin recognized it as that of
an inveterate foe—an outlawed cowboy, a fol-
lower of Utah Bill named Paschal.

An oath burst from the villain’s lips when he
discovered the presence of the boy hunter, and
he made a ab at his throat; but, quick as a.
flash, Buck in dropped down behind the canoe,
thereby eludiu the outlaw’s grasp.

With bated reath the three amateurs stood
motionless gazing with fixed eyes upon the boat.
The saw, even from where they Were, both
Buc sk'n and the outlaw rise at the side of the
boat. hey heard the latter’s oath, and then
saw Buckskin disappear.

The next moment they saw evidence of, a ter-
rific struggle going on at the side of the frail
craft, which was violent] rocking upon the
agitated water. They con (I catch glimpses of
the struggling foes as they rose to the surface.
The saw the flash of the knife in the hand of one
of t, e combatants; then thecanoe drifted away
from the scene of the conflict. Was Little
Buckskin slain?

The Stru gle was ended, when the three spec-
tators behcgd the survivor strike out after the
boat. But, which one? That one of the twain

» had been killed there was not a doubt, and the

fear that it was their friend, Little Buckskin,
who had gerist filled the breasts of the ama-
teurs wit a horrible use.

A few strokes carri the swimmer to the
canoe, in which still lay the crying babe.

“‘ Now we will soon know who was killed,” an-
nounced Rollins, in a husky i'cic", as he hovered
over the very edge of the water, in his eagerness
to learn the truth.

They saw the canoe stopped; again they saw
the head of a swimmer rise above the gunwale,
then disa pear again. They next moment the
prow of t ebark turned slowly in the current
and began to move toward the southern shore!

A shout that rung in merry echoes through
the hills burst from the lips of the amateurs.
Their friend lived and was coming ashore with
the cancel ’

Slowly the craft pushedacross the current and
%ally reached the shore, a few rods below where
t e lyoung hunter had left his three friends.

T 6 boys were thereto welcome their leader.

“ You got the baby, didn’t you, Buckskin?”
cried Rollins, joyfullly;Ad .

“ Yes. boys, but I to fight for it,” replied
the outh.

‘ “ he with? Ingin or outlaw?”

“ Outlaw of the first water.”

“He may be the father of this child, Buck-
skin?”

“Father of nothin’; but it’s a, good thing I
took my knife, for Jule Paschal is a big stout
brute that’d soon fixed me if I hadn’t m e him
feel homesick in the stomach with my knife.
But, boys, take up that kid and bring it to

” ‘

ge‘ék Rollins stoo and lifted the crying in.

fant in his arms an started to th camp.

Little Buckskin donned his clo es and reach-
\

A few ,p'ne sticks were thrown upon the fire,
and a-xbright light lit up the eager, anxious faces
of the four youths. ' .

The infamt was closely wrapped in shawls, and
layiiég it tenderly upon the ground Rollins pro-
ceed to unwrap it so that they could see its

"An In ' bah , b smokei” burst from
fBuckskin’sfifi‘Ips as his (fires fell upon the child’s
ace. ‘ I

.It was a tiny lump of humanity, not Over four

. r or five months old-11 boy baby, WhiCh. When

' unrolled from the wraps. around it, was entirely
innocent of a stitch of clothes.

‘11: silent wonder the group stood and gazed

 

 

Little Buckskin, the Young Prairie‘Oentau'r.

upon the child. For once in his life Buckskin
Phil was at his Wits’ ends.

.“Boys, what in thunder are we going to do
With the kid, now that we have drawn it?”

“ Well, what indeed?” repeated Deck Rollins.

The boys exchanged glances. There was a.
confused, puzzled look upon each one’s face.

“ It’s a pretty little critter,” confessed Buck-
skin, “ and must be cared for till claimed by its
owners.”

After being set at libert from the confine-
ment of its v'ra s, the baby ushed its cries, and
crowded its chu by fist into its mouth, kicked up
its fat feet and gazed up at the dancing firelight
on the rocks overhanging the camp.

“ The little scamp’s hungry as a wolf,” decided
Buckskin; “just see it chaw its fist. Boys, what
in the nation are we going to do with it!”

“Isn’t there any women up at Whisky-Fam-
ine?” asked Rollins.

“Not a woman that I know of, unless she
came therewithin the past two months. I have
an idea this cub’s mother can be found, and as
soon as day comes I’ll take a hunt for a mother
for our waif. Hello! hear the little chunk tun-
ing‘ up again!”

_ he baby began to cry, and steeping over it,
Little Buckskin wrapped a light shawl around
it, and lifted it in his arms and endeavored to
quiet it.

Sharp and shrill, its cries rung out through
the night—a stran e sound indeed to be heard in
the bivouac of the y brigade—a strange sight,
indeed, to see the youngl borderman pacing to
and fro With a babe in is arms—talking, sing-
ing and whistling to it in his endeavors to quiet

it.

The child finally went to sleep, when Buckskin
tucked it away in its shawls and robe and laid
it at the foot of the great rock.

“ Boys,” said the Young borderman, “ there
are Ingins around here somewhere, sure as
death.

That baby hasn’t come alone very far, and it
behooves us to look out or we may git our hair
ban . ed. I guess I’ll go out here and stand guard
a w ile and look out for Bandy. You fellers ’d
better let this fire go out. but take good care of
littlesmoke-skin over there. Keep your fingers
on your weapons, your eyes open and your ears
pinned back. ”

With these words of precaution the Centaur
walked away, _ leaving the amateurs seated
around the waning camp-fire.

Scarcely half an hour had passed when the
three heardlvoices down near the river.

“ By goodness 2” exclaimed Rollins, “ there’s the
voice of Kit Bandy!”

“I wonder if Bob is safe?” ,

They sprung to their feet and started toward
the river, but ere they had gone far the were
met by Little Buckskin. Old Kit, and Bo ~Mal-
yarn, and then for awhile joy reigned ~supreme
in that mountain bivouac. \

Old Kit seated himself by the fire, feelin
somewhat jaded after his long tramp, while Bo
Malvern threw himself upon the grOund declar-
ing that he had about enough recreation and ex-
citement to do him during the rest of his natural

1 6.

Old Kit was called upon for his story of the
adventures of the day, and without a relude he
started out in his usual happy with Ht» all Of
a sudden, there arose'a shriek behind him, and
yeah a Yoop the old detective sprung to his

“ Hill-flugins !” he exclaimed, “ war that a
Cowmanche war-whoopi— the scream ' o’ a
hy ena?” '
_ The boy hunter and his three companions burst
into a pea! of laughter, for they had kept the pre-
slfgige of the baby in camp 3. secret from Kit and

“Kitsie,” explained Little Buckskin, “there’s
a baby in that bundle.”
‘ A. baby i” and Old ,Kit betrayed his utter
astonishment.

“ Yes, a genuine baby; we found it afloat in
a boat on the river.”

“ Well, by the blast 0’ Joshua’s horn l” the vet-’
eran detective exclaimed, advancing toward the

‘ bundle from whence shriek after shriek was is-

Wing, “What in the name 0’ screech-owls is to
come next? Yes, sir, by the sainted mother 0’
old _Adam!; it’s a baby—a real meat baby—-
Ingln at that: but, by snakes, he’s a royal little
dumplin’ for all that. Come up here, you little
rascal.” and the old man took up the child and
walked back to the fire with it and seated him-
self. “ Lordy, boys,” he went on. his voice half-
choked, *“ it’s beenlmany a day since I’ve heard
ababy cry and many a year since. I’ve felt one
sguirm in these old hands. Bv jinks! the sight
'0 the little rip mellow-meal! up, boys. See

‘tions w on I git sot a-goin’.

 

 

them little chuffX arms and legs and them fat
fists and feet! ’rn’t he 8. r0 al little rooster?
It don't seem possible that I, a-risto )her Ko—
lumbus Bandy, wor ever a kitten like t is—that
my old mother who’s been dead these many

ears ever dandled me around like this. Boys,
it makes my old heart homesick. Here we set, ,
the two extremes o’ manhood—the baby’s jist
startin’ up the hill and I’m cuniin’ down—he’s
comin’ on—I’m goin’ off—day is dawnin’ to him
——tw1_l1ght shaders are gatherin’ before me. Ah
you little coyote! you’re hungry as a bear, and
no teet for solid food. You are ’n a bad fix,
little one. If you could only onbutton your lip
and tell us whence you came, we might restore
you to our folks. And so the rat came driftin"
down t e riVer in a canoe alone?”

“ Yes,” Buckskin answered.

“Somethin’ ’s oin’ wrong somewhar,” Kit ‘
went on; “it’s a ard heart that ’d desert as.
nice little coon as this. It’s not its mother’s:
fault that it’s here, you can gamble your last.
cent on that. See the little thing look up at,
me! Heavens! I’ve a mind to bite it! A baby
alers did break me up— oopi here it goes again
on a yell. Got regular ngin lungs, even if it is
half white. Joshua! don’t it buckle down to the
work! There, there—-whewi whew!” and the
grim detective began singing and whistling to
quiet the baby, and the boys began to laugh vo—
cii‘crously. .

The baby cried itself to sleep, then Kit care»
fully wrapped it up, and settling himself in an
easy osition, held the little waif in his arms.
with t e tenderness and solicitude of one whose
very soul seemed enchanted.

Deck Rollins finally went back to the river
and took his position as watch. e had not,
been there long ere he was startl ‘ by the apm
pearance of a cloaked figure from the shadows.
of some shrubbery on his left. It_was the figure
of a woman, who ap reached him with slow
footsteps—as if in don t as to whether he was a
friend or foe; and torelieve her of all fears be.
advanced toward her, saying:

“ Madam, have no fears of me;
friend!” ,
“ Oh thanks, senor,” she replied in a sweet,.
musica voice that touched a tender chord in

the young man’s breast.

As the woman approached nearer she dropped.
the cloak, worn hood-like .over the head, to er '
shoulders, and the moonbeams falling full upon,
her, revealed a face exquisite in its loveliness.

It was a young face-the face of the maiden,.
Zonita Alvandez.

1 ‘; hiadam,” Rollins said, “I hope you are not
0s ’4 .

“ No, senor, I came here in search of—”

“ A child ?—a baby?” . ,

“ Ah! then on have found it?” exclaimed the
maiden, joyf ly. I , .

“Yes, it is at camp. We found it in a canoe
adrift on the rivar. Come, I Will conduct yom
to our camp.” .

“ Thank you, senor; you are very kind,” and
the irl followed the youth to camp.

“ iends,” announced RolImS, as thfiy enter-
ed the radius of light, “‘here is a lady in search
of our little waif.’ ‘ . _

“Indeed?” exclaimed Qld Kit. main to his.
feet with the babe in his arms. “ ell, in
fair woman, here’s your baby safe and scan ,.
though hungrier ’n a little hear.”

The girl blushed to the tips of the ears.

“ Senor, it is not my child.”

is Oh. pardon me, miss,” Bandy returned,
somewhat confused, “I {fight ’a known it.
But do ou know whose it is?

“It elongs to an Indian_woman who lies.
very low at my father’s cabin,” responded zo_

Iama

ita.

“Where does your father reside?”

“ Up toward the miner’s camp of
Famine."

“And your name?”

“ Zonita Alvandez.”

“ You are a Spanish lady?” ‘
— “Yes, sir.”

“ Wal, I’ll swear I didn’t know thar war a.
woman within forty ’leveu miles 0’ here. Be»
your father a miner?”

-- “ N013 elFaCtly, senor,” the girl replied, some»
what evasively. r

“.Excuse me, little one,” said Old Kit, apolon
getlcall : “ I’m a terrible old fool to ax ques-
, _ But, I’ll turn this
little kid over to you now, for I reckon you can
handle it a little nimbler ’n I can; We 1'0 a 10*
0’ boys, miss, frolicking ’round up here for sport,
and now we’re not goin’ to let you check alone
throu h this night. Here, Bucks in. you and
Deck 111115 I appoint as acommittee to see
this gal and baby safe to the gal’s home, and if

Whisky-

 

   
 

' ~ , in testis:      ' ~'

 

 

.ye ’don’t want to go, 1, Kit Bandy, myself will

. o.

3 But Little Buckskin and Rollins were only too
glad to escort the lovelygirl, and announced
their willin ass to go at once.

So Bucks '11 Phil took the baby, and as they
turned to leave, young Rollins offered Zonita his
arm, which was accepted with a smile.

“ By gracious!” exclaimed Bob Malvern, as
the trio with the baby disappeared in the gloom,
“ Deck Rollins has met his fate! He’s all broke
up on that girl.” . _

“ Do you blame the b0 for fallin’ inmlove With

an angel?” asked Kit and . “Darn my old
scalp! she’s the prettiest ga I ever see’d. I do
believe I’m all broke up on her, in self, and as
to that baby, blessed if I don’t feel onesome. If
1 jist was sure that Sabina Bandy would never
drap down on me, I’d show you lads that, old and
desolate as I am, I could make love to a little
angel with all the grace o’ a young cavalier.
Let’s see: she said her name.was Zomta Alvan—
<dez. She is a Spanish girl, and do you know
that she’s no plebeian? Do you know that rich
old Castilian blood courses her veins? By the
ram’s born 0’ Joshua! what if her father is—”

Here the old detective broke suddenly off, and
turning, he began pacing to and fro before the
five, his eyes cast downward and his brows knit-
ted as if in deep reflection. .

And the amateur hunters, looking on in
silence, wondered what next the eventful night
would bring forth.

CHAPTER XI.
~ ZONITA'S REQUEST.
ZONITA and Deck Rollins led the way through
rthe wooded valley, followed by Little Buckskin
with the baby.
The girl seemed to put implicit confidence in
‘ her escort, for she talked freely to them; and
Deck Rollins listened to every word with close
attention and the utmost credulity. But, while
Little Buckskin was willing to admit her beauty
and the music of her voice, her surroundings
were such as led him to fear that all might not
be what it appeared.

“ I am truly surprised to find a young lady in
'this desolate mountain valley,” Rollins admitted,
.as they moved along.‘ ‘ .

“ I presume so, senor,” replied the girl; “ but
it is not by my wish that we are here. I am
livin a dreary, dreadful life here.”

“ our father, you say, is not a miner?”

“No, sir,” she again replied, in an evasive
manner.

“ Then I cannot imagine what business he
«could be engaged in here,” observed Rollins. de-
termined to compel a direct answer, if possible.

' “ He is not an outlaw or robber, senor,” the
girl replied: “although I fear he  be mis-
trusted byyou and your friends of being such;
but let me assure you, upon the honor of a lady,
that my father is an honorable gentleman.”

“ I believe—ay, I know 1you speak the truth,
Miss Alvandez, and it won d afford me and my
friends the greatest pleasure to render you and
jog, father any assistance or favor you might
.as _ .

“You are kind—very 'kind, senor. I must

, confess we are in need of friends at this time,
for a danger hangs over us that we sought the
solitude of these mountains to escape; but I
~should not thrust my rrievances upon strangers. ”

‘ “ Don’t hesitate, iss Alvandez, to s ak
freely, for I again assure you that it will e a
pleasure for us to be of service to you. I know
something is oing wrong—we all thought so
when we fou that child.”

“Yes, the mother of that infant lies in our
cabin dangerously wounded by the bullet of her
husband and would-be asaassin. It was he who
sent the boat adrift with their child, and when

' she had dragged her bleeding form to our ca-

, bin. and tol me where ,she had left her child,

I came in search of it for her.

womanwher husband is a white man.”

- “ He must be a dreadful villain,” declared
- Rollins. ‘ , ‘
f “lie is a bad man, senor, and it is him we
'- ear. .

' “Where is he now!”

"At Whisky-Famine, I suppose.”

“And his name?” I

“To father and I he is, known as Captain
Byron Postle; in the Indian village'where he.
firr’i‘ed “ his squaw wife, he is called White

9. - ., . . ,

,_ “ Are you threatened with immediate

; from him?” . p v - . .

. , ‘.‘ We tire. senor: before tomorrow night. Oh,

' I wish I dare reveal all toyou!” ,« '

 :-‘.“A.ndwhynot?"  .

“Because-our tengues are tied, sonorL”

danger

She is an Indian .

 

  
 

“ There is some m story about your and your
father’s life, I see, iss Alvandez.”

The girl made no re 1y to this. The walked
on in silence. Final y the twinkle o a light
some distance ahead fell upon their gaze. Rol-
lins called attention to it. .

“ It shines from our cabin, senor,” explained
the maiden.

“ Perha s you would rather that we go no
further,  Alvandoz?”

“You are very thoughtful, senor; I do not
know how my father would accept your pres-
ence. He is a strange man.”

“ Then we’d better go no nearer,” decided
Buckskin Phil.

“ May I make a request of on, senor?” the
girl asked, her hand still restmg upon young
Rollins’s arm.

“ Certainly, Miss Alvandez.”

“ Will you and your friends not come and
cam near our cabin for a day or two?”

“ othing would afford me greater pleasure,
Miss Alvandez,” replied Rollins.

“I fear something dreadful is goin to happen
unless we have the help of frienr s. If -you
come to-morrow it may be that father will give
me permission to tell you all. You see, I trust
you gentlemen, with all my heart.”

“ 0 hope that we will prove worthy of that
trust.” returned Rollins, gallantly.

“ Miss,” said the more outspoken Little Buck-
sxin, “ I think you are a pretty nice girl, and
we’ll be around this way to—morrow,’ and if any-
body offers harm or insult to a hair of your
head we’ll make them bow down in the dust.
Kit Banrly’s all broke up on this little Ingin, and
I know he’ll be glad to come.” 1

Having tlm -: spoken, Buckskin laced the child
in Zonita’s arms, and bidding er good-night,
the two turned and be an retracing their foot-
steps toward camp, W ere they arrived in due
course of time. '

They found their friends anxiously awaiting
their return, and to them they at once made
known all they had learned of the maiden con-
cerning herself and the child.

“ Thar’s somethin’ wrong thar, boys,” averred
Old Kit. “ That gal’s no sinner. and jist as soon
as it’s daylight we’ll amble up thar and shadow
that cabin. We might strike somethin’ as would

ive us a clew to Colonel Darre’s whereabouts.
ow. let’s turn in, all 0’ us, and take a snooze,
and be ready when the time comes to march.”

So saying, all but the one left on guard rolled
tliemselves in their blankets and laid down to
s eep. . . _

At intervals of every tWo hours the guard
was relieved.

Daylight came, and with the first streaks of
dawn the party broke camp and started up the
river.

They had proceeded but a short distance when
the were startled by a sound in a clump of
bus es'on their right, and upon investigation
they saw a horse, bridled and saddled, standing
hitched to a tree, while upon the ound lay a
man wrapped in a blanket either as eep or dead.

“ B the great thundersl” exolaimed Little
guckbkin, in a whisper, “that is my horse,

oys. ‘ - .
h, Lord!” groaned ‘Old Kit, aloud. “ I
wonder what has happened them two gals,
Augusta and Jeannette ’ i ,1

The sleeper awoke at the sound of Old Kit’s
voice, and sprung to his feet. _ He was a young
man dressed in a ranchero’s suit.

Little Buckskin recognized him at a glance as
Tom Krome, one of the two cowboys who had
come up from Zane’s ranch in search of Augusta.
and Jeannette. ,

"Hello, Tom l” the young hunter exclaimed,
“what in the Lord’s name 15 wrong now? Are
the girls safe?”

“Yes, Buckskin,” answered Krome; “we got
back safe to the ranch with them.” ,

“Any word yet from Colonel Darrei” asked
Bob Malvern. . .
 yes. He is evidently in the power 0’ Utah

1 .

“ What evidence have you of this fact?” ‘

“This letter,” and Krome took a. folded note
from his pocket. “When we got ack to the
ranch it Was ’waiting Miss Aug ta’s ’rival.
It war sealed and directed to her.  had been
handed to Joe Falls, one 0’ our boys, the day the
colonel disappeared, by a man who came up the
river, and who, went back inf that direction,
though I think 'he went that Way for a blind.
Here’s the letter; you can read it ’ ‘

is

He handed the paper to Bob .Malve'rn, who,’

unfolding it, read aloud the following :‘

' “sts Aeolian Damn:—

“ Year father is in my care. where he will remain-
nntll 1

I .

  

) ' ,.,'i

 

  
     

hear from you in personor throughyour

agent. I am informed by one who knows that your
father is rich and that you have thousands in your
own name.‘ I am poor and in need, and I know you
Will pay me well for the restoration of your father
to you. I must havefl've t omapd duller-s. I will give
you ample time to effect is ransom knowing your

ome and money are in Kentucky. fiut that i may
know what you intend to do, I must have an inter-
v1ew with your agent, forthwith. ,I will appoint as
.lace of meeting, the Miner’s Mecca. at Whisky-

aminc, for day after to-morrow, at any time be-
tween sunrise and sunset. I, or my agent, will be
there. Instruct your a cut to wenra blue ribbon or
string attached to his at-band that he may be re-
cognized by me or my a cut, w 10 will be disguised.
He must come alone, or e will not be recognized.

Any attempt to thwart mo, or to find Colonel Darre, .

I warn you, will be futile. lhaVe not undertaken
this without making my position secure. I defy all
the detectives and soldiers in the land. Remember
that any attempt to wrest my secret from my agent
by bribery or torture will be followed by the death
of Colonel Darre. The name I here subscribe is
sufficient guarantee that what is said herein will be
fulfilled. UTAH BILL."

“ Hill-fliIIJginsl”burst from Bandy’s lips ;“ that’s
the game tah William is up tol’

“ Taking his one from Italian bandits,” sug-
gested Bob Malvern.

“ He’s a sly, slick coon, boys,” observed the
old detective.

“ And will probably get his price'before Darre
does his liberty.”

“ anl, negotiations ’11 have to be opened with
the villain,” replied Bandy, “ and mebby we can
entrap him; but by the
have to keep ourselves under cover.”

“I am fully satisfied now that Paul Dumont
has had something to do with Darre’s capture,”
remarked Malvern, “though I cannot see what
object he has in it.” .

‘ I’m satisfied he’s a friend 0’ Utah’s,” was
Kit’s view. ‘ '

“ Supligse I go up to Whisky-Famine to re—
present iss Darre,” suggested Little Buckskin, ,
over anxious for excitement.

“ It was Miss Darre’s wish that you should act
for her, in case I found you,” Tom Krome an-
nounced.

“ Then that settles it,” said Old rKit; “ but I
reckon if I’d been a young and skittish youth I’d
got the job. Age goes against a feller with the
gals, but when it comes to solid work— But
say, boy, you’ve got to be religiously keerful
when you go up thar to that devil’s nest. You
want to keep your lip buttoned, and notgit too
numerous in tryin’ to find out thin 5.
want to make ‘me, or my agent’ t in]: "you
don’t know any more’n the Constitution allowsi

,and that you’re an innocent, unsuspectin’ chil

who, knoweth nothin’ but how to set a beaver
trap or find your pocket in the dark.” ‘

“ All right, Kitsie, I’ll do the best I can. I’d
better take the letter along too,” thought Buck-
skin “ as additional credentials.” ,

“ Iiere’s a piece of blue ribbon furnished me
bykAugusta,” and Krome produced a tiny bit of
m . ‘ i l
Buckskin at once prepared to dgpart for
Whisky-Famine, and having arranged as to
where he should meet his friends after the inter-

You.

view at the Miner’s Mecca, be mounted his noble .

horse and rode away toward the camp of the
gold-hunters. '

 

CHAPTER XII. I
LITTLE BUCKSKIN AT ‘THE MECCA.

THE sun. was erhaps two hours high when our
hero rode into hisky-Famine and drew rein in,
front of the Miner’s Mecca. _

Dismounting, the be ' hitched his horse and en-
tered the Saloon. He. ound half a dozen rough,
bearded miners present, all seated on a bench
smoking and ta king. That Whisky-Famine
was on the ra id decline as a mining-camp was
evidenced b t e dull. lifeless demeanor of these
six men.
clinking of glasses or oisterous . proclaime
that 1i e and ener , and “business.” so char-
acteristic of the lea mg saloonswof a rich-paying
camp. ' “ ' _

The presence of Little Buckskin, however,

0 shufflin of cards, rattling of dice ,

    

:‘x-‘x ‘ _

$271.1 - -

born 0’ Joshua! we’ll .

seemed to infuse a little additional life into the  5

miners, for to them he was a strangerl They

 

..;
.

a“

’1’,

“" ""“ ....-——- var—:24. “’
‘ I!

«K

ch

started up, and one. of them, the proprietorofi . J 1"

the Mecca, said:
“ Mornin’, young man!” '
“Good—morning, Sir,” re lied Buckskin.
“ Ruthe’r young to be on in the mornin’ frost,
ben’t you ?” asked one of the miners.

“ I’m young, it’s true,” replied Buckskin, “ but '

I’m not'as sappV as bunch-grass in June.”
“What can
pro riator; “what’lbyouhavg?” \ g
. ' “ don’t drink, sir, replied \Bu0kskin.
9‘ Whewl” 63

,z.-,_

  
 

  
     

aeulated‘ the proprietor; rho, 
' chap can worship at  shrine 

lb.
I .

I d" ’°’ ""2" “ked Schemes? . . 

  
 

  

\

 7 l i  ‘ ' Little Buckskin, the Young Prairie Centaur.

  

 

 

 

Z‘H‘h '. .
' I tributes to its support. -Come up, boys; what
,1 ' will ou have at our youn a friend’s expense?"
a i . “ ay, old man,” said uckskin, “ you don’t
‘ want to cork yourself now. If these folks ‘ wor-

I
f ship ’ as you call it, they’ll have to foot the bill,
,j for ’m dead broke.” .

./I.. i u, “ Gosh! he slings langwidge like an old

" ‘1 boomer.” '

I “ I see you’ve

“ you can pawn—

“ Yes, I’ve got a revolver, and I know how to
usc it, too,” broke in the boy; “all I ask of you
is to be let alone. Your darned 01d cam seems
i like a graveyard now, and I should thin you’d

e try to encourage emigration instead of jumpin’

i ontoxa lone, lost boy.”
' “ Pretty well said,” remarked one of the
j crowd, a tall, heavily-bearded fellow, who ad-
: "‘ vanced, and putting out his hand, said: “ Shake,
i boy, and then come in here; I want to sell you
; some mining-stock.”

Then the man turned and led the way  an
adjoining room, the boy following him, satisfied
‘ that he was Utah Bill or his agent.

i When alone in the room, a little dingy hole of
a glace, the miner turned to the youth and
em :

“ I see you wear the blue ribbon, young man.”

“ Then you are—”

“ The man you are here to meet.” interrupted
the miner, “ you can call me ‘ Basil.’ Who sent
you here?’

“ Miss Darre.” .

“ What other proof have you of this?”

“This letter you sent her,” replied the boy,
producing the note.

“ That is, sufficient; but, young man, I hope
you fully understand that the least attempt on
your part to betray Utah Bill will be your death-
warrant.”

“ I understand that fully, if I am a kid,” re-
plied Buckskin; “but my only doubt is as to
Whether you’ll do what you agree to do.”
as .“ Utah Bill has never broken a promise to
friend or foe.”

“- Well, go on with your rat-killing.”

“ Bill’s terms are stated in the letter-five
thousand dollars laced in his hands secures the
release of Colonel arre. I will give two months
from to-day for the delivery to be made. After
that time it will take ten thousand, if he’s alive,
to release him. Bill wants the money delivered
right here in this room. On and a ter a week
from to-morrow an agent of Bill’s W111 be around
at this saloon and whoever brings the money must

wear a. re ribbon, a small bit is sufficient, tied

to his hat-band by'which he ma be recognized.

Igflyou come, boy, you’ll not fin me here, but a

d erent man Will meet you. If more than one

of, you comes you will not be recognized at all:

Don’t forget that. Even if there are. any stran-
*' ers in camp, or close around, nothing Will be

one till they retire. As soon as the money is
‘ counted out to Bill’s agent Colonel Darre Will be

released, thou h he will be miles from here.

This,‘now, is a "I, have to say, and you are at

liber to o.”- i

i ’ . “ rig t I think I understand the arrange-
ments,” said ’Little Buckskin.

"~‘ Here, you can go out here,” said the out-
law’s agent, opening a little door at the side of
thBrokglkin te ped th h th ' d
‘ no 3 p rou . 9 opening an
' ‘found himself outside the Diner’s Mecca. Pass-

ing around the buildin to hishorse he mounted
and rode awa .r He (1 gene but a short dig-
,i ‘tance when h card the sound_ of a istol-shot
come from the Mecca behind him, an drawin
rein, he listened. To his surprise he heard lou

I oils and curses and cries of ‘Hang him! hang

 im 11? . ' ,

Quickly it occurred to the boy’s mind that the
miners had discovered that the man he had held
, . the conferenee With was an outlaw— rha

"’ Utah Bill himself. This discovery coul eas' y
* i have been made had the miners taken the pains
‘ to have listened at the door of the conference
 "room; and through fear it_ had been made, and,
 that the man would be killed, and the nsom

of Colonel 'Darre fail in (:On . uence r of the
‘e ‘ agent’s” death, Buckskin whii' ed his horse
+4., on oped back toward the saloon.

j ‘The’ door of the building am Open. and
« ‘thl‘omng .forward upon the horse’s neck,
‘ I" the rode boldly into the Mecca.

got a revolver,” said Scholte;
3

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, fixc 88.138 drew his revolver and ran his
, . 1. eyes over the scene before him.

I .. -'_Stnndmg With his  the opposite
s  lead of the room, a revolver. one hand an
I Jens-necked  fiend as a club in the
‘ ., . other, was Old Kit, dy ho] at bayhalf a

 , ‘ 'tedminersh w , »

almost astonished to find

I

   
   
  
 
 

  
   
 
    

 y “daringbix . _ ,_
V x l What in; e.dickens is wrong here?’ ‘the lad .

da,

 

the old detective there, when be supposed he had
left him behind with his other frien s. -

Before the Young Centaur had time to express
a word that denoted his recognition of the de~
tective, the latter yelled out: ,

“That’s it, you monumental vampire! Run
in your baby-faced cavalry—bring on yer artil-
lery, and I, Old Jack Salts, will maul hill and
blixes outen the hull 0’ you! Draw that weepon,
you young prairie pup, and I’ll give you a hy-
perdermic injection 0’ lead!”

The last words were addressed to Little Buck-
skin, and the boy saw that the old detective did
not want to be recognized, a seeing the man
Basil standing at one side .rding first him-
self and then Kit, as if in doubt as to whether
they Were friends or not, be resolved to he]
cari'y out the old man’s work of deception, an
sair. :

“You’re a pretty specimen of humanity, you
bandy-shanked, lop—cared old bummerl Boys,
give me room, and I’ll ride the old shoat down.

if I am a ho , I’m not in the habit o’ bein’ sassed
by such an o d carcass; give me room 1”

Expecting to witness a. conflict between the
boy and bummer such as theynever had looked
upon, the miners fell back, and then Buckskin
spurred his horse forwar .

Old Kit let fly the b0 1e in his hand, but it
mied Buckskin and struck the proprietor of
the Mecca in the face, knocking him down sense-
less. Then he seized the horse by the bits and
jerked it back, and the next moment the horse
and rider and Old Jack Salts went spinning
around the room in confusion. To
add to the confusion of the sham conflict, both
Buckskin and 01d Kit opened with their revol-
vers, and in two seconds the saloon had been de-
serted by the Spectators, who seemed to be in
more peril than the contestants.

And scarce] was the last one out of the build--

ing when Litt e Buckskin slipped from his sad-
dle, saying: ‘.

“ Mount, man, and fly!”

Old Kit turned and lea upon the back of
the horse, threw himself orward upon its neck
just as the animal shot out through the open
door, and dashed awe down the valley.

Buckskin, apparent y panting for breath, ran
to the door and fired his last'shot at the flying
horseman, and then the exc1ted miners recov-
ered sufficiently from their scare to send a, dozen
shots after the man. v

“ Wal, boy,” said one of the miners, “you’ve
lost yer boss, and it’s darned lucky ye didn’t
lose your life. You’re too small a pattern to
pnilert’ake to buck sich an old blacksnake as that

9 er.

“If you cha s hadn’t run, You might have
helped me a litt e,” said the boy, reproachfully.

., £28131 invitecli1K us tgd stand asideta, 9.1]in twe fitood
-—s on now our gal. u w ere’s
Scholte?” y .y

_A groan from within answered him, and the
miners all rushed into the saloon to look after
their friend who lay bleeding upon the floor.

While the were thus engaged, Buckskin Phil
turned and urried out of the camp; and when
the pro rietor of the Mecca had regained his
feet an sought for the author of his battered
face. and the boy who had dared to ride on
horseback into his “ temple,” he found them not,
and his curses ew loud and bitter.

Little Bucksirin hurried back to his friends,
and was met by Old Kit with a smile, who said:
“ How did ye leave the folks at the Mecca i”

i “I left them on foot, you old sinner! What
on earth were youdoing up there in that p’izen
plac i” replied the boy.

“ a! ha! hal” laughed the old detective; “it
did turn out a rather serious joke' but a mo-
ment after you left us today I can _ht sight of a
horseman movin’ up the valley, and concluded
to foller him. He went straight up toward
Whisky—Famine, but I lost sight of him just be—
fore he reached there. However I went on,
and fufst thin I- knowed I found myself cor-
nerexl in the 'ecca, and, dash my pioters! if I
didn’t hear one 0’ them lazy 1_0uts say he believed
I war Kit Band , the detective. Boy, if you
hadn’t come in t ere when you did it’d gone
pretty rough With me. But sa , did that teller
What I chugged in the face wit a bottle I}; t0
the Mecca come to timei—show up? D1 he
yearn for the presence 0’ Old Jack Salts?”

“ I heard him howling when I took m dGW‘

tugs; but say, has anybody been to you 01' cab'
,in ‘

:“No; but Deck Rollins has seen and talked

With that ' 1 that came for the baby and in-
Vit us 'tothe-weddin,’.,” said Bob vern.
“ .erwedding?"

daj‘wes,herehe’stobeman'iedto-
y,  ., y, ,

‘ Brennan.”

 

“Great horn 0’ Joshua l” exclaimed Old Kit,.
for this was the first he had heard of it having;
been back from the miners’ camp buta ew min-
utes before Buckskin; “ who on earth ’1] the gel
marry? Lord! it’ll murder Rollins, won’t it?‘
A weddin’ in the wilderness! People will marry
wharever ye go. And we’re invited?”

“ Yes, and there will be some rich develop-
ments, too,” said Malvern.

“You bet on thar’l] be one,” said Kit, “for
I’ll kiss that ride or kick the roof 03 the cabin.
I’m a salubrious old kisser at a weddin’, and
don’t you disremember it.”

“But you don’t understand me, Kit; there is,
like] to be trouble.”

“ ouble? What, so soon as that? Why,
mine and Sabina’s trouble didn’t he in for sev—
eral da 8 after we war matrimoni . Guess if
that’s t e case we’d better move to reconsider"
the proposed bridegroom and substitute Deck.
Rolhns. ’ I" _

“ But perhaps the proposed bridegroom ’u’d
have something to say ’bout such a Proceeding,”
said Tom Krome, the cowboy.

“ Wal, if we’re in the minority we can mi»
buster and - rvent the—”

“ Hark, 'tl” said MaIVern, “ yonder comes.
Zonita’s father, Senor Alvandez.”

Turning, the old detective saw the S ish,
recluse approachin them, walkin slow y and,
With feeb e step. or a moment it stood mo-
tionless, his eyes fixed upon the stranger, then. -
starting suddenly he turned to his friends and
said in a low, excited voice:

“By the 'livin’ waters! that man is the mur-
derer of Colonel Arizpal It is Don Esteban,
and I have a warrant for his arrest. The re—
gardwis a thousand dollars for him, dead or.

we

 

CHAPTER XIII.
run WEDDING ‘INTERRUPTED.

DON ESTABAN, or Alvandez,-as we will con-,-
tinue to call the old Spanish recluse, came on
and jomed the brigade encamped in the dense
pine thicket._ ' .

Deck Rollins, who had met him that morning,
introduced him to his friends.

Kit Bandy made no attempt to arrest the‘ '
man, nor did he intimate in any way that he’
knew him. ‘

“Gentlemen, I should like to speak with the»
leader of your party in private,” the old recluse

said.

“ All right' there he is,” said Little Buckskin,.
pointing to Kit.

The old detective and the recluse stepped,
aside, and seating themselves, talked in our
tones for several minutes.

When their conversation had ended _ Alvan-
dez returned to his cabin and pig Kit to his
firiendg, rubbing his hands and smfling in glee as ,r

e sai :

“ Sure enough, that weddin’ is likely to be a.
devilope-ment of facts that’ll aralyze the nam
tives—a reg’ler ole stutterer. (11$, each an’ all.
0’ you, want to see that your flgh ’ tools are in
trim.

“ Hullo!” said Tom Krome, the cowboy, “ are-
we to have some pistol-music? Good! it’s been
a month sinceI’ve shot the hoofs of! 0’ any-
thing, an I’m gittin’ rusty.” .

The brigade remained concealed in the dark.
thicket, waiting and watching. About noon
Zonita and her father‘came out from the cabin,
bringin to their ambushed friends an abun-
dance 0 well-cooked food.

The afternoon passed away and the shadows of.
evening began to gather. _ ‘

As soon as it was dark Zonita li hted a candle ..
and scarcely had its light dispel] the gloom of
the cabin ere footsteps sounded outside and there-
came a rap upon the door.

Zonita arose, Opened the door and admitted
three men. no of them was her suitor, Captain,
Byron Postle, who introduced the others as;
Father Brennan and Jackson Drew. Brennan.
was dressed. somewhat as a Romish priest, his
face being smooth and clean] shaven. Drew
was a rough, bearded man, wit anything but a,
pleasant countenance.

v After they were seated Postle said:
. “ You must ardon me, Zonita, for not etting'
here sooner. - was delayed in finding Tether

“Oh,Iassure ou'oa ta' , ': len

fine ,. replied zlfiiita’, inpa 32113232: m I.) :y
on on av ‘

vow?" y e decided to accept‘my, 8-
“ I am Yt sure that I have nor that I have -
not,” was t e girl’s reply.‘ ‘ ' . .
:: ggmfa, what do you  3:611 PM“, ‘ 7
8111903“  'm 4'
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/ “ What, my little

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' Little Buckskin, the  Bijairie Centaur. I

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~der the pines the little birds sun so strangely, I
thought. They seemed to say, ‘ eware ’ onita,
beware, Zonita,’ and then they would flutter
'nearer me and again Seem to say, ‘ It’s not
for love, it’s not for love.’ And then I thought
I heard a shriek of distress come u from the di-
rection of the river, and the cry 0 a baby.”

Postle looked uneasily at his friends, then, to
conceal his emotions he indulgedin a low, forced
lau h. saying:

“ on are superstitious, Zonita, indeed; but
that comes of livin here in this lonel , dreary,
darksome place. nee cut of this, in od’s sun-
light amid the ayety and festivities of civiliza-
tion all this wi lpass away.”

“ hat may be very true, but I might live as
happily here with my father, as with a husband
in t e gayety of civilization. Married life is

not always a happy life. Only a day or two

0 a poor Indian-woman came dragging her
b ceding form to our door saying that she had
been shot down by her husband, a white man
and dragged into the bushes and left for dead.”

“You are jestin , are you not, Zonita?” ex-
claimed Postle, his ace, voice and actions denot-
ing the restlessness of a guilty conscience.

‘ No. she speaks the truth, captain,” said
Senor Alvandez. ’

“The poor thing,” Zonita went on, appearing
to take no notice of Postle’s nervousness, yet in-
wardly rejoicing at her power to keep him upon
the torture-rack, “had bled almost to death

_ from her wounds. Father and I laid her on
yonder cot, dr her injuries, gave her some
food and restored her to consciousness. Then
she began to mourn for her baby which she had
left asleep in her canoe when she went ashore
where she met her husband. So I put on m
hood and cloak and after ni ht went in searc
of it and found it down the river whither it had
drifted in the canoe' and when I gave it to that
Eoor mother, I could not he] '0 g to see how

appy she was. I only te this to show you
that married life is not all sunshine.”

“‘ That was an excegtional case, which doubt-
less grew out of the isparity between the In-
dian squaw and the white husband—no congeni-
alit of social standing, education, and so forth,”
sail Father Brennan.

“ That might all have been, yet he was not

'ustified in trying to murder her,” replied
onita.

“ No; that is very true,” affirmed Postle; “ he
must have been a monster.”

“ Do you think such a man worthy of any we-
man’s love, ca tain?” the girl asked.

“ Not’ at a 1, not at all, Zonita,” Postle
replied, “ but did she tell you her husband’s
name?” \

“ She called him White Pine.”

“ And what became of her?” .

Before Zonita could answer there came a loud
rap upon the door that startled the inmates of
the cabin.

Zonita arose, and with a hesitating stegad-
vanced and opened the door. She started ack
as she did so, for the light revealed the tall fi -

me of a man standing outside. It was _ 't

fiandy, but she appeared not to recognize

n

l. .

“ Good-evenin’, miss,” the old detective said;
“ do ye ever kee a lone, lost pilgrim over mght
at our house, e ?”

‘ Come in,” said Senor Alvandez; “ we never
turn a benighted traveler awayeven though we
can give him but the floor for a bed.”

“ Good enough for me,” said Bandy, bul 'ng
into the room without further ceremon , t an,
on seeing so many present, he continu :

“Horn of—plenty! must keep a caravansary;
or is thar a funeral, or a weddin’ goin’ on?”

At si ht of him Postle turned to his friends
and sai in an undertone:

“By heavens! that’s the man, Jack Salts,
that was at the Mecca to-day and the man.
Shadrac Poppel, that tricked the boys out of
their prisoner up the mountain the other
night!” There’s something in the wind here to-

ni hi). I ‘.
f Ideanwhile Zonita was saying to the old detec~
. we:

“Weddings sometimes turn out to be worse
than funera s.”
a1?” replied the old man;
“ no need of a fans here’ night. If you’re
to be the bride, and the $1011: hasn’t come jist
substitute me, Old Jack ts, for him, a see
what a deelicious old husbandI'll makeyou.”
rmit me to introduce you to my
vandez, and to Father Brennan,
' and Captain Postle,“ and Jack Drew,” said the
performing her duty of hostess run-
113,218 old man’s remarks. .

w!" exclaimed Bandy. as he turned

 

to that individual, “ be youJack Drew, the de-
tective?” ‘ l

The man looked Kit straight in the eye for a
moment, and then replied:

“ Jack Drew’s my name, sir.”

“Glad to meet you, Jack," said the old de-
tective, seating himself on a box in one corner
of the room.

“Captain,” said Zonita, now turning to Pos—
tle, “ you asked me awhile ago what became of
the discarded wife of White Pine: she is here,”
and as she spoke, Zonita pushed aside a curtain
door opening into an adjoining room, from
which appeared with tottering footsteps, the
Indian woman, unel

At sight of her Postle sprung to his feet. his
face ghastly with horror and rage, and his eyes
glaring like a beast at bay. -

“ Oh, White Pine!” cried the uaw, gras ing
her brow and startin back wit terrors ‘do
not strike me! do not s cot! I am your wife!”

“ And this, then,” said Zonita. gliding from
the little room with the squaw’s child in her
arms, “is your baby, Senor Postle, so you see
now why I cannot—will not marry you !”

“That uaw!” thundered Postle, “is an im-
postor! I enounce her as an Indian outcast!”

At this moment Bandy crossed the room,
opened the door and called out:

“ Ho, boys, come in.” ,

Almost instantly Little Buckskin entered the
room followed by Tom Krome and the rest of
the brigade, Bob Malvern being the lastto enter.

At Sight of the latter Postle 8 face grew livid
with re e. He gra his revolver, but before
he coul draw it, it Bandy presented his is-
tol at the fellow’s head, saying, in a tone t
almost froze the villain’s blood:

“ Don’t dare to do it, old lygamy!”

At sight of Postle, Bob alvem started back
in agparent surprise, exclaiming:

“ ood heavens! We meet again, Paul Du-
mont!”

“ Treachery! treacher !” hissed the pretended
priest, Brennan, and wit a movement like that
of a cat, he sprung out through the open door,

knocking the light out as he d’so, and wrap-
pinlglall in gloom. v
r en followed excited cries, the shuffling of

feet toward the door, the crack of revolvers 1n
and out of the cabin, the fall of bodies, groans
of agony, shouts of men, and shrieks of women.

CHAPTER XIV.
, A DYING MAN’S connnssxon.

THE conflict was over within a few moments,
although a score of shots had been fired in the
dark—most of them outside the cabin. ,

Alvandez hastened to relight the lam . Its
light shone upon a scene of blood. Tom ome
lay dead upon the floor. The reputed Jack
Drew lay writhin in fearful agony. Bob Mal-
vern had got a bu let throu h the fleshy rt of
his left arm. June, the In ‘an wife of t e vil-
lain Paul Dumont, for he White Pine, alias
B‘yron Postle was, had fallen backward into the
a joining room and lay dying from a hemor-
rha e of the wound received at the hand of her
hus nd the day before, while her_ babe lay at
her side all unconscious of the terrible tragedy

 

that had just been enacted.
Paul Dumont and Father Brennan had es-
caped in the darkness.
he dead cowboy was removed to one side

of the room. Zonita gave her attention to the
dyin June, assisted by’her father, while Kit
gen y gave his assistance to the wounded Jack

rew.

“ Old teller,” said the detective, “ you’re
pretty badly used up, ar’n’t you?”

He answered in terrible groans and frightful

curses.
“ I’m shot to ieces!” be final] asped' “but
where is Dumogt and Utah Bil ?g Did they es-

cape?” .

fiAhit. then Father Brennan is Utah Bill?”
sai
“Yes, yes: and I must suffer for their sins
and die like a do , while they 0 free to drag
down others. Wh t a fool I’ve n!”

“And I rather think you’re not Jack Drew—
not the Jack I know.” 7

“ No, my name is Redmon,” replied the dying

man. I

“ A follerer 0’ Utah Billa'nd Paul Dumont?”

“ Not exactly a follower of Utah Bill’s, but a
boon companion of Paul nth. r

“ Would you mind tellin’ me what Dumont
had to do With the abduction o’ Colonel Darre?”
asked Bandy. '

“1:; Nothing Entire than toopgnt o rte Utah lgill
chance 0 a sum :0 money or
the winners remdltafii

Bill did allthat work,
but the capture of the young man, Bob M -

-the original Jack Drew, an

 

vern, was the work of Dumont, and had he not
been rescued when he was, he would have—well
no matter. But this man, Alvandez, whose rea
name is Estaban, has been wronged the worst
of all h me and Dumont, all for the sake of
gold. t was known to us that his daughter,
Ace, through her dead mother, became heiress
to an immense fortune, and Paul resolved to get
hold of a part of it, at least, by marrying her.
So he set about trying to win her affections,
and failing in this e iad recourse to murder.
We knew that Estaban and Colonel Arizpa were
intlmate friends, and one evening when they
were taking a walk, an arm was suddenly thrust
from the thick bushes at the roadside, and h.
knife driven into and left in Arizpa’s heart.
Estaban seized the knife to draw it out, and just
as he did so, Paul Dumont sprung from the
bushes on tho opposite side of the road, seized
Estaban and yelled ‘ murder.’ Help came, and
the man was hurried to prison for the murder of
Arizpa. Dumont stood ready to swear he saw
the death-blow dealt by Estaban; but that night
I and another friend of Paul’s bribed the jailer
and got Estaban away and bade him flee for his
life. Paul expected then to compel his dau h—
ter to marry through threats of revealing lgier
father’s whereabouts, but to his surprise the

irl fled with him. It was two years before we
onnd them living here in seclusion. To-ni ht
was to have witnessed his marriage with co
and the achievement of his eat aim. The man
who did kill Arizpa is now ead.”
“ Did you ever hear him sayl anything of bein’
engaged to a lady in the Sout ?”

Yes, to the daughter of Colonel Darre.”

“Exactly; and did 'ou ever hear him speak
of bein’ married to an ngin woman?”

“ Often. He was always confidential with me,
and in a laughing way spoke many times of his
Ingin wife, une. ’

‘ The ro a1 devil!
gold-minin .” "

“ He has paying interests,” said Redmond, “in
the Leadvil e and Deadwood mines, but he, like
my own miserable self, thought more of money
made in reckless, wicked adventures than by
honest labor.” -

“ I’ve been onto Paul’s racket these weeks and
months,” said Old Kit. “ OVer six months ago
Colonel Darre heard some way or other that his
future son-in-law was a married man, and also
a member 0’ Utah Bill’s band, and so he went
to St. Louis and there em loyed a detective,
Sent him West to
look up Paul’s standin’ amon the mountaineers.
At Fort Lyons Drew was ta en' sick and turned
the work over to me, and now if I can find the
colonel I think I am ready to report.”

“He felt so sure of Zoe and her fortune,” said
the d ing outlaw, “that he was ve willing
that tab Bill should make all he co d out of
Colonel Darre.‘ But let me warn you that it’s
dangerous to remain here long, for Bill can
bring a dozen desperate men against you before.
to—morrow noon.”

This confession was listened to by Bob Mal-
vern, Deck Rollins and Old Kit, and when oung
Rollins afterward told Zonita and her fat er of
the confession exculpating Don Estaban from
the ,murder of his friend, the maiden clasped
her father about the neck and the two wept and
regiced together. ' ‘

edmon lingered along until after midnight.
dying in great agony.
' A consultation was finally held by the brigade,
and it was decided to continue th_ search for
Colonel Darre. Little Buckskin an young Law-
rence were dispatched to Whisky-Famine to
watch the movements of Dumont and Utah Bill.

In the mean time Old Kit had taken measures
at the cabin to guard against a night surprise
by the foe. ‘

He’s been playin’ it fine a-

—_ ‘

CHAPTER xv.
REAPING THE WHIBLWIND.
UTAH BILL and Paul Dumont both esca

‘ from the cabin unharmed, and fast as their age

would carry them they hurried from the vicinity
of their inglorious defeat. I a
They made their way back to Whisky-Famine,

speaking but a few words until they were safely .- "

in Dumont’s room in the camp.
Lightin a candle. Dumont brought put a
bottle of quor, and after they had emptied it,

they seated themselves and entered into .conver- , V

sation. , ‘

“Don’t this night’s work beat Satan?” was
Dumont’s first observation. ' ‘ '
“ I should say so,” re 'ed the outlaw
Bill: “ I reckon poor ' men was killed.”

al lost everything, Bill.’ Ewen that. mudsill, 

r "W.

“ Curse that black-eyed Centipede, Zonitat She * .
is the One that set the trap for me. Gadsl I have ;.

 

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r’. .
a“ -

 

 

Elelvern, must turn up there to-night; but I

.._.. _. _.....__.l....__-..._m --. -

utin a shot at him while on the retreat, and I

athe'r think he ot his last sickness. I he so,
at least. And t t wench of a squawl sup-

)osed she was deader’n the mother of Adam.

ust think of it! Could a more disastrous thing
have happened to me and my prospects?”

‘.‘ I can’t conceive ofanything worse, I assure
you; but I now see that that whole outfit is a
gang of detectives, and shrewd ones they are,
too. From this on, Whisky—Famine’s going to
be unhealthy for me, and if I get through with
Darre’s ransom safely, I’ll do well.”

“Bill, hadn’t you better give that up?"

‘Never, till I have to,” was the emphatic rep] .

“ It would be better for me, for the colone ’s
daughter’s all I’ve got to fall back on now, and
even that recourse will be a deuced dangerous
one to handle since Paul Dumont’s been caught
at 'some' of his tricks. But I could march into
the cavern and release the colonel and make
him_ believe I’d reschedrhim, and that my asso-
ciations With you were all a scheme to effect his
release.” '

“ That all may he, Paul,” replied Bill, with a
tinge of sarcasm, “ but simpllly because you lost
to—night is no reason I sho d lose to—morrow.
We went into this matter on the square. I' stood
by you,till the last, and now I expect you to stay

y me. , ~

Dumont, half-angry, rose and paced the floor
uneasily. _

It was eVident that *the best of feeling did
not exist between the two scoundrels at that

moment. ' _

Finally Utah Bill left his friend’s room and
sought his own quarters

Paul Dumont sat down and for fully an hour
was engaged in deep reflection.

Then he arose, put out his 1i ht and stole
softly out of the cabin and mov away down
the valley. “ '

Two skulking figures ghded from the shadows
of the building an followed him.

With rapid strides the restless villain pushed
on and on till he reached the river, down whose
course he turned.

Down the river for three or four miles went
the man, then leaving the stream he took across
the hills 1n_ the direction whence the brigade
had come two days preVious. _

“ By smoke,” whispered Buckskin to his com-
anion, “ the Varmint, I guess, is headed for the
luck P0011”

“ 'Jlo drown himself, I hope,” replied Law-

rence. .

The boys followed on, but owing to the dark-
ness and the tortuous Wlndings they lost all
hearing of their man, and Were compelled to

ive up the Pursuit. But they did not turn

ack, but sat down to wait for dayh ht, deter-

' . mined to push on to the Black Pool at a l hazards.

Fortunately they had not long to wait, for
the night was Well advanced, and, With the first
streaks of (lawn, the were u and of! flyin
over the hills and ough ark deflles wit
nimble feet end determined SplrltS-i And ere
the were aware of their i'ommlty to the
poo they were startled by t e roar and rush,
of its waters 8. short distance in advance.

Slackenmg , their speed, they approached , the
dread p00l “’th cautious steps, 89131118 under
cover of t epines. ‘ . ‘ ' . .1

When but a few rods from the rapids Little
Buckskin caught sight or a man plckmg' .his
Way along & nairow, rocky ledge overhanging
thti‘ garters of the whirlpool on the right.

5'
1“ Lawrence, that’s that smooth-faced villaim
Utah Bill I” ‘ ‘

“ It's the fellow that man, LRedmon, said was

him,” said Lawrence. _

1Thle oufilaw, for it was Uglah Bill, moved
8 ow an careful] along 9 narrow wa ;
for care false step min hurl him into the seeth-
in waters below. ,

e had proceeded perhaps a. rod when, in
roundin a point of rocks, he came suddenly
face to ace with Paul Dumont, who was being
followed by an ‘old' man—none other than O'clo-

7 i net Zebulon Darrel

The two men  short and glared at each
other a..moment like Wild beasts.

“Ha, Paul Dumont! I have caught you in
your base treachery!” Utah Bill finally hissed
.0013; ‘_‘I mistrusted this, and followed you!”

. “ Bill,  you all ou ask,” replied Du-
mont:_ , old man s not lay and rot in
that dishal cavern}? .

“ Who “Widen” is that, Paul?” thundered
the old oolonféeffll" (ffk'nhg’kold—time irritabilgy
mam e : ‘ him v into 9
floodorw overhisvilebod 379.81.

c ,“ Old man, don’t forget the? I am your_ca.p-

\

     

r “Little‘HB‘u-‘ckskin, the Young Prairie

Centaur.

    

" "is

 

 

smoke!” said the young borderman; ,

 

tor,” said Utah Bill, “and it was through the
suggestion of your friend Dumont that I had
you waylaid near Zane’s Ranch and captured,
to be held for ransom.”

“Colonel,” said the cowardly Dumont, “it’s
a lie—a base—”

Before Dumont could repeat the word, the
outlaw sprung at him like a tiger and endeav—
ored to knock him over the ledge; but Dumont
was on the alert, and the two grap led.

Colonel Dai‘re started to assist umont, but
before he could render any help, the combatants
lost their balance and shot downward into the
flood, a wild cry of horror trailing from their

ps.
Darre started back, his face the picture of

terror; then he glanced over the ledge and

cau ht sight of the two men as they went down
in t e swirling waters, followed by one of the
ghastly corpses that Bob Maivern had seen a
few days before tossin about in the pool.

With his soul fille with horror the colonel
hurried along the ledge and reached the bank
at the lower end of the poo],

“Hullo, there, old man!” suddenly called out
a voice from the shadows, and the colonel start-
ed and glanced around him.

“Who the deuce calls me?” the excited man

replied.

‘ Me, Little Buckskin,” replied the oung hun-
ter, and he and young Lawrence a vanced to-
ward the colonel. ‘

“ Little Buckskin? What, that boy that lives
down on the Arkansas?” . -

“Yes, sir.”

“ What in blazes are you doing here?”

“Hunting for an old bear called Colonel
Darre.”

“ That’s my name, boy; that’s my name.
Come, hurry up here and Jump into this water
and hel my—’ . d

“No, don’t jum into that water, for that’s
the Black Pool, an be who goes in there never

its out alive. That’s the place for them two
ellers—we seen them roll in—the infernalated
rascals. One is old Utah Bill, and the other is
his rd, Pau1—” .

“ don’t b’lieve it—not a word of it!” growled
the colonel.

“See here, old man. You don’t want to cork

ourself,” replied Buckskin. “ If you don’t be-
ieve it, follow us and we’ll take you to where
Old Kit Bandy is, over here in the mountains,
and he’ll tell you the kind of truck them fel-
lows are made of. We’ve been huntin’ for you
three days and nights, and if you don’t want to
be found go jump into that pool and drown
yourself.” , ._ ‘

“Such rascally, boyish 1Inpudence I never
heard!” stormed the colonel; “but say; if you
fellows are here to help me out of this con-
denmed countr , Wh don’t you start and not
stand here cac ' ing like chimpanzees?” .

“All ri ht! Come on!” and turning, the three
started 0 through the mountains.

The journey to the cabin was a long and
tedious one for the colonel, and more than once
the had to stop and rest.

eii about a mile from the home of Alvan-
dez, the trio came 11 ii Old Kit Bandy, Who
was out on a reconnaissance; and With his young
breast swelling with man pride at their suc-
cess in finding Darre, Little Buckskin intro-
duced the colonel to the old defectlve-

“By the born 0’ Joshua! I’m glad to meet
you, colonel,” Old Kit averi'ed. Shaking the
colonel’s hand. ,

“Well” responded the old Lentuckian, “I’d
be a condemned sight gladder to meet with a
carriage going my wav.” _

“S’pose so, colonel but, as I said before, I’m
glad”to meet you. I’ve somethm’ to report to

ou ‘

“ Ah! I remember now, You’re Kit Bandy,
the detective that Jack Drew turned some matr
ters of mine over to. We , What have you
found out about Paul Dumont?”

“I’ve found out that he’s a murderer, a much
Ig'ahrgied man, and the pard of the outlaw, Utah

1 .

“ Blazes! you don’t say?”

“ I do: and just last night he came down to 'a
cabin, not far from here, expecting to marry
again, but his 11131111 Wife was thar, and I was
that..and some other folks was thar, and the
weddm’ brolge up In a' Shootin’ affair, and Paul

ski out} ,
‘P him!” exclaimed the colonel; “he’s
got his deserts!" . , . x
»  go’w’si that?” .
- * es ead ” explained Buckskin: “he and
Utah Bill otinto d'tu bled into the
Black Pool.” 1 a fight, an m
“ And we left the scoundrels,” added the cola.

"f / 4

r

 

nel, “ waltzing over and under the boiling flood -
chased by other lifeless victims of the pool an
of that cut-throat, Utah Bill.”

“They have sown the wind and reaped the
whirlwind, then ” remarked Bandy.

After some further conversation the four
moved on toward the cabin. As they a
proached it they pissed three newly-ma e
gritlves. under the waving pines, when Bandy
sai :

“ There’s where we buried the victims of last
night’s fray. That first grave holds the floor
broken body of June Dumont’s Ingin wife. hat
second grave’s whar bumont’s best man lies. He
made a clean breast of all his and Paul’s vil-
laiiiy before he passed over the dark river. And

that third ave is whar Tom Krome lies-”
“ Tom rome, from Zane’s ranch?” exclaim' ed
Darre.

“ Yes, he war killed in the fight, poor teller.”
They passed on and entered the cabin, where
the return of the two boys was hailed with joy.
Colonel Darre was introduced to Alvandez
and his daughter, and while the old man was
giving free expression to his opinion regarding
that country, Bob Malvern also entered the cabin.
“ Thunder and Mars!” the old colonel cried,
starting back as if from danger; “do my eyes
deceive me? Do I see that imperlnent young
scoundrel, Bob Malvernl” \

“ You do, sir,” was the cool reply. ,
“Get out of my presence, con—’

“ Hold on, Colonel Darrel” interrupted Bob;
“you’re not on our own premises now, but in
the eat Rocky ountains.”

“., hat’s so, that’s so, boy,” replied the old
man. a irit of contrition suddenly overcoming
him; “ in an old fool, and I’ll- bet on it! Come
around here Bob Malvern, and kick me all over
this room— deserve it.”

“No, no, colonel, I forgive you; you have
been ersecuted enou h.”

“ A l_right, Bob, a1 right. If I ever git out
of this infernal country and back home, I’d be
glad to see you in Kentucky.”

“Thank you, colonel,” re lied Bob, feeling
that he had at last won a bri iant victory over
the obstinate old man.

“I came out West for my health," Darre
went _on, “some weeks ago, but I refer the
malaria of the South to the bangitti of the
West. Augusta is down at Zane’s Ranch.”

“Yes, _I had the leasure of meeting her a
few evenings'ago,” a mitted Bob.

“The deuce you did! When? Since I’ve been
on this tour to the mountains?”

1 “Yes, 811‘; she was in great distress about

,7

“The poor child! Say, when’ll we get away,

from here?” .
“ To-morrow morning,” assured Little Buck-
skin, with a smile, “ if nobody corks himself. ”

 

CHAPTER XVI.
HOMEWARD ,Bomvp.

BRIGHT and early the next morning our
friends, accom anied b Alvandez "and his
daughter, left t e cabin in the mountains and
ste rted down the Arkansas river.

Little Buckskin turned his horse ever to Zo-
iiita and the now orphan baby, that_had been
thrown upon the kindness and charity of the
iart .

l Inydue course of time they‘ reached Zane’s
Ranch, and here the party bmke up after a.
(la ’8 ‘sojourn. .

xnor Alvandez and his daughter were the first
to depart. Old Kit Bandy 811d IChabOd Flea,
who had joined the company in the mountains,
going wit them to aSSlSt in establishing the
innocence of Alvandez of the murder of Arizpa.

Before  Zonita and young ROHIDS 
a private interview, and when they bade each
other cod-by it was With the sublime conscious.
ness t t the future held greater happiness in
store for them both. -

And before leavmg Z_ane’s Bob Malvern w
ceived asecond invitation from Colonel Darre
to visit them at their home, in Kentucky, and
when Augusta learned of her father’s reconcilia-
tion she told her lever that when he came to see
them she would name the day when they would
realize the fulfillment of their cheris ed hopes.

The amateur hunters remained

in hunting and trappin with s on 'd success——
ending their seagson of Eton in a mud

finally
bufl’ o-hunt over on the head-waters of the Re- ' "

_ . I a month I
longer With Little Buckskin, puttin in the time

.11. -

aiblican under the leadership of the Boy Cen~_ v ' f)

ur of the Prairies, Little Buckskin-
THE END.

 

  

BEADLE’SrHALF-DIMEaeLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at tne Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

 

BY EDWARD L. WHEELER.
Deadwood Dick Novels.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road.
20 Double "lurker-a or, Duudwood hick'n Defiance.
28 liuil’aio Den; or, lendwomi Dick in Disguise.
85 Wild [van t re Boy Ciuudo Duvul.
42 Phantom liliner; or, Deadwood Dick’l Bonanza.
49 “aloha (ill; or Deadwood Dick in Danger.
or Deadwoml Dick’s Eagle»; or, The 1mm. niFlnod B...
78 Deadwood Dick on Deck; or. Calamity Jane, the ileroino.
77 Corduroy Charlie; or, Deadwood Dick'l Lint Act.
100 Deadwood Dick in Leadvllle.
104 Deadwood Dick‘o Device: or. Thu Double Crmu Sign.
109 Deadwood Dick an Detcetive.
129 Deadwood Dick’n Double; or. The Ghent oi Gorgon’l

Bu 0 .

138 lilollde Bill; or. Deadwood Diek’a Home Bale.

49 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick’l Big Strike.

156 Deadwood Dick oi’licadwood; or The l’ickcd Part .

195 Deadwood chk'n Dream; or, '1 he filVillfl of the Ron .

201 The Black Illiln Jezebel; or, Deadwood Dick‘l Ward.

205 Deadwood Dick's Doom; or, Calamity Jane’n Last Ad-
Venture.

217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Brlgnnd.

221 Sn ar-Coatcd sum; or, The Black Gown.

282 Go d-Dunt Dick. A ilmuunre of Rougln and Toughe.

268 Deadwood Dick's Divide or. The Spirit of Swamp Lake.

268 Deadwood Dick’n Death rail.

809 Deadwood Dick’n Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick oi
. regun.

821 Deadwood Dick’u Dozen ; or, The Fakir uI‘Phantom Flute.

847 Deadwood Dick's Ducatn; or, Rainy Day. in the Dig-

logo.
551. Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendetta.
862 Deadwood Dick’s Claim.
405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City.
410 Deadwood Dick’u Diamondl.
421 Deadwood Dick in New York; or, A “ Cute Cale.”
480 Deadwood Dick’u Duet; or, The Chained Hood.
448 Deadwood Dick, Jr.
448 Nickel-Plate Ned; nr, Deadwood Dick .lr'e Defiance.
458 Sunflower Sam, oi Shanta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’n Full.

and.
459 IIfl‘lunh Fan, the Ferret; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Round-
7.
465 {illII‘ilomFlm of Phenlx; or, Deadwood Dick Jr‘s Racket at
4 lillll .
I471 Bozeman Bill ; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’l Corral.
476 Liar-Iglmhlt Harry the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’-
0g «tot'twe.
491 Moll Myntery; or, Dendwond Dick Jr. in Deadwood.
491 5’rIace l'lntol, the King of the W'eet; or, Deadwood Dick
r‘l Jonwuct.
496 “on e Crlnto. Jnx or, Dondwmul Dick Jr’l Inheritance.
 Rea; wgot: lli’i‘cils‘zti 13g illgtli‘; or. Dr. Duath-Grip’n Swoop.
ea w 0‘ c a e ver nee.
515 Dcat wood Dick's l’rotegee.
522 Deal wood Dick’n Three.
529 Dem wood Dick‘n Danger Ducke.
584 Dead wood Dick’s Death Hunt.
589 Dem wood Dick Jr. in Texas.
213 3““ “'°"‘.l 'i’li'k "‘il‘." “$3?” ““°°“'
cal woo c on I . c t e.
554 Dea lwood Dick, Jr. in Gotham.
561 Deal wood Dick in Bot-ton.
 Beat wont}  gr. :n {killadoiphim
eat woot e r. n ‘ cago.
578 Dem wood chk’, Jr. Afloat.
584 Deal wood Dick, Jr. in Denver.
590 Deadwood Dick, Jr’s. Decree.
 Beadwoog 1],)Ile'l‘i 31 r. iglgieelzelbllrb'ednagil.
eat woo c r. a one It an .
 Beagwoog  JJr’: lf’elzdzflle Lay.
on woo c r. n e ro .
618 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Cincinnati.
624 Deadwood Dick, Jr. in Nevada.

 Other Noveln by E. L. Wheeler.

26 Cloven floor, the Bufl'alo Demon.
82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot.
89 Death-Face, Detective; or, Life in New York.
45 0ld Avalanche; or, Wild Edna. the Girl Brigend.
58 Jim liludnoe. Jr., the Boy Phenix. .
61 Rueklrorn lilll or. The Red iiiile Team.
69 Gold Iliile the shar mhootcr; or. The [soy Detective.
80 Roaehud Rob or. uzuct Ned, the Knight.
84 ldyl, the Girl . iner; or, Rosebud Rob on Hand.
88 Photo ruph l'hll; or, Rusebud Roh‘n Reappenrance.
92 Cane. a (liter; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull's Camp.
96 Watch-F. e; "r, Arabl and Angels ufu Great City.
118 Jack Iloy e the Young Speculator.
117 Gilt-Edged Dick, the son Detective
121 Cinnamon Chip, the Girl Sport.
125 Bonanza liili. Miner.
188 “on. Bob the King oi Boothlaclu.
141 Solid Sam the Boy Road-Agent.
145 Captain f‘erret, the New York Detective; or, Bou Boh’l

Boon Job.
161 New Y0rk Nell the Boy-Girl Detective.
177 Nobh Nick offievadar or, The Sierral Scamp.
181 Wild l‘rank, the Buckskin Bravo.
209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective.
218 Fritz to the Front: or, The Ventrlloquiet Hunter.
226 Snoozer. the ii~y Sharp; or, The Arab Detective.
286 Apollo “ill, the Trail Tornado.
240 Cyclone Kit, the Young Gladiator.
S erra Ram, ilu; Frontier Ferret.
248 S-erra Sam'n Heel-e ; or The [51de Footprintl.
258 Sierra. Sara‘s Ford; or, The Angel ot‘ Big Vista.
258 Serra Flam"- Seven; or. The Stolen Bride.
278 Jumbo Joe llii' llcy Patrol: or. The Rival Heirs.
277 Denver Dol’l. the Detective Queen.
281 Denver Doll's Victory.
235 Denver Doll‘s Decoy ; or. Little Bill’e Bonanza.
291 Turk, the Roy Ferret.
296 Denver Doli’n Drift; or. The Road Queen.
No. 1, the Dalhing Toll-Taker.
’Liza Jane, the 'iirl Miner- or. the Iron-Named Sport.
Kelley, lllckev dc 00.. the Detectives of Philadelphia.
.ittle Quil’k-Sllot; or, The Dead Faceof Daggersvllle.
Kangaroo Kit; or. The Mysteriou- Miner.
{an aroo Kit’l Racket.
8 Man attan Mike, the Bowery Blood.
858 Flrlt-Claaa Fred, the Gent from Gopher.
868 Egeka .llm,’ the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery oi

O.
872 Yreka Jim’s Prize.
873 N ahob Ned; or, The Secret of Slob City.
382 Cool Kit. the King of Kidr or, A Villain’n Vengeance.
885 Yreka Jim’s J oker; or, The Riv-in of Non.
889 Bicycle Ben; or. The Lion of Lightning Lode. '
4 Yr: a Jim of Ynha Dam.
Wrinkles, the Night-Watch Detective.
416 High "at Harry, the Ban Bell Detective.
426 Sam Slabaid the Beggar-Bo Detective.
484 Jim Beak an Pal rivets tectlves.
438 Santa Fe 3.1, the Sl’uher.
486 Seal-kin Sara, the Sparklor.

 

 

 

 

BY CHARLES MDRRIS.

118 Will Romero, the Buy Detective.
122 Phil llardy, the Boss Buy.
126 Picayune l’cte; or, Nicodemus, the Dog Detective.
180 Detective Dick: or, The Hero in Rage.
142 Hand-tome Harry, lhe Boothiut‘k Detective.
147 W' ill W ldiire, the Thoroughbred.
152 Black "ell, “’ill \Vildiire’n Racer.
157 M lke Merry, the Harbor Police Boy.
162 Will Wildllre ill the Woodn.
165 liilly Baggage. the Railroad liuy.

0 A 'I'rulu ()nrri; or. “'ill Vi'ildlira “'ina and LOMI.
174 Bob Roe ett; or, Mysterieu of New York.
179 Rob Rockett the Bank Runner.
168 The Hidden iland or, Will Wildfire‘n Revenge.
187 lb‘red llalyard, the die Bout lim'; (.r. The Smugglerl.
189 Bob Beckett; or. Driven to the Wall.
196 Elhndowed or, Bub Rockett'n Fight for Life.
Dark l’au , the 'l‘ign-r King.
212 Dashing Dave, the Daud Detective.
220 l‘om Tanner; or, The “hick Sheep oi the Flock.
225 Sam Charcoal the Premium Durky.

Shadow Sam. the Messenger Boy.

242 The. Two “ Bloodn "; or, Shenandoah Bill and His Gang.
252 Dick Dauhawayt or, A Dakota Buy in Chicago.
262 The. 1 oung Sharpe: or. ilollickiug Mike’l Hot TraiL
274 Jolly Jim; the Detective Ap lrcntice.
289 Jolly Jim a Job; or, The mm r Detective.
298 The “'ater-Ilound; or, The oung Thoroughbred.
805 éiaeltavt'ay, ot‘ Dakota: or, A Vi'eutern Lad in the Quaker

ty.

824 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective.

Tony Thor-ac, the Veguhund Detective.
858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer’l Blizzard.
307 W ide-Awake J00; or, A Boy of the Times.
879 Larry. the Leveler; or, The Bloodl ut’ the Boulevmd.
403 Fire y Jack, the River-Rat Detective.
428 The Lout Finger; or, The Eulrapped thier.
428 Fred Fl er the Reporter Detective.
482 Invincib e he an, the Pinkerton Ferret.
456 iii“ Brick, t m Jolly Vagabond.
466 “ll e-Awake Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive.
479 Detective Dod e ; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty.
43% Wild Dick Rac '01,.
501 Boots, the Roy Fireman or, Too Sharp for the Sharper.
566 The Secret her-vice Roy I ctectlve.
596 Jinuny the Kid; or, A amb Among Wolves.

BY OLL 0001“ ES.

5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew.
18 The Dumb Spy.
27 Antelope Abe. the Boy Guide.
81 Keen-knife, the l’rinl-e oi' the Prairies.
41 Lam-lo Jack, the Young Mustang”.
58 The Bordcr King: or, The Secret Foe.
71 Delaware Dick, the Young Ranger Spy.

 

74 Hawk-e 'e Harry the Young Tia er Rn r.
88 Rollo tile Do Ran er. pp I"
Sure ghot Set , [lie oy Riflemun.

148 Scar-Face Saul. the Silent Hunter

146 Silver Star, the Boy Knight.

153 Eagle Kit, the lioy Demon.

168 Little Texan, the Young Muntanger.

178 Did Solitary, the Hermit 'l'ra‘pper.

152 Little Ilurrleanc, tho- Bo ' captain.

202 Pro: ect Pete; or, The ’oung Outlaw Hunters.
208 The 0 "\ re llleu : or, The Prairie 'l'rumpl.
218 Tiger '1 om. the Tum Terror.

224 Danhilw Dick; or. Trapper Tom'a Cnetie.

228 Little ildflre, the Young l’rairie Nomad.
288 The Parson De tectivc; or The Little Ranger.
248 The Din-gained Guide; or, V'ild Raven, the Ranger.
260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger.
272 Millklkill Mike, the Boy Sharpahooter.

290 Little Foxfire. ille Boy Spy.

800 The Sky Demon : or. Rainbolt, the Ranger.
3H4 “drip-king Joe, the lim‘ llnrlchero.

409 Hercule» or, lm-k, the Boy Ranger.

417 “'ehi‘oot Jone, the Trump l'ictectlve.

422 Rab Sam. the iioy Giant m the Yellowstone.
444 Litt e Buckakln, the Young l’rnirie Centaur.
457 Wingedfoot Fred; or_ Hid l‘ninr Saul.

468 'l‘amarae 'l'onl, the Big Trapper llny.

478 Did Tom Rattler, the Red liver Epidemic.
432 Stonewall "0b, the lioy Trojan.

562 Blunderlng Bauil, the Hermit Boy Trapper.

DY T. C. IIARRAUGII.

28 Nick 0’ the Night: or, Th» Boy Spy 01'76.
87 The Hidden Lodge: or The Litti.- Hunter.
47 Nightiu ale Nut' or, Tue Forest (to taint.
64 Dand ack ; or, The Outlaws of the rogon Trail.
82 Kit 1 arei‘oot the Wood-Hawk.
94 Midnight Jack 3 or The Boy Trapper.
100 Did Fronty, the Gilli e; or, The Vi hlte Queen.
123 Kiowa Charley the White Mustrtnger.
189 Jud e 1. mail, Jr.z or. The an V Igllunte.
155 idol Tr g er, the Spun-t; or, The Girl Avenger.
169 Tornado on]; or, ujun Jack hrom Red Core.
138 Ned Temple, the Border lioy.
199 Arkanaaw; or, The Qunc" nl Fate’s Revenge.
207 Navajo Nick. the Boy Gold unter.
215 Captain Ballet: “1'. Um" TOl’kml’fi “made.
281 l’lucky PM]; or. Rona, the Rel Jezebel.
241 Bill Bravo; or, The Rough: of the Rockies.
255 Captain Apollo, the Kingvi’m of Bowie.
267 The Duck-Akin Detective.
219 014} “’lnoh; of, The Buckskin Deeper-adorn.
294 D namile Dan: or, The Bowie Blade of Cochetovn.
802 The Mountain Detective: or, The Trigger Bar Bully.
816 Did Ecliple, Trumn Card of Arllona.
826 The Ten l’ardn : or. The Terror ol'Take-Notlco-
886 Big Benson: or, The Queen of the Lawn.
845 Plllenn Matt; 0', Rod Thunderholt’s Secret.
356 Cool Sam and Pant: or The Terrible Six.
866 Velvet Foot, the lndinn Detective.
866 Captain Cutlass: or, ‘i he Bl‘Ccnneer’l Girl Foe.
896 Ron h Rob: (".le l'win Champions oi Blue Blazes.
411 The .‘llken Latin-o: or, The Rose of Ranch Robin.
418 Felix Fox, the Boy Spotter.
425 Texan Tram . the Border Rattler.
486 Phil Flash t e New York Fox. ,
445 The City am irca; or, Red Rolfe I Pigeon.
401 Due A ainnt F fly; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar.
470 The oy Shadow; or. Felix Fox’l Hunt.
477 The Excelnior Sport: or, The Washington Spotter.
499 Single 51 llt, the One-Eyed Sport.
2 handed en, the Night Ferret.
512 Dodger Dick. the Wharf-Sp Detective.
521 lgodgerdDiek’n Bent Do e.

 

 

528 ‘ o: In Facon, the Bowery Shadows.
588 :" Die K, the Dock Ferret.
48 ‘ Die k’s Double; or, The Rival Boy Detective;

 

r Die k’e Desperate Case.
“ Dick. the Boy Vidocq.
57 ' ‘Ile Two Sill-down. '
582 liod er Dieik’o Drop.
.415 0 Lou, the Street-Singer Detective.
610 Did Skinner, the Gold Shark; or, Tony Sharp on Guard.

 

 

 

 

 

 

BY CDLDNEL PRENTISS INGRAIIAM.

7 The F] 'ing Yankee; or, The Ocean Outcast.
17 Ralph to , the Boy Bu ccuneer; or. The Fugitive Yacht.
24 Diamond Dirk or, The Myetery of the Yellowstone.
02 The Shadow h‘ lp; or, The Rival Lieutenunu.
75 l he Roy Dueliat; or, The Cruise of the Sen-Wolf.
102 Dick Dead-E e, the Boy Smog ler.
111 The Sea-Devil ; or, The Mldshfiunan’o Legacy.
116 ’1 he lluunar Ca tain ; 01‘, ’i'he Hermit of Hell Gate.
19. Little Grit; or, enuie, the Stock-Tender‘l Daughter.
204 Gold Plume: or, The Kid-Glove Sport.
216 Dixon Bill the Prince of the Reine.
222 Grit. the llravo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer.
229 Crimaon kateé or, The Cowboy"! Triumph.
287 Lone Star. the owhoy Ca tain.
245 Nlerlc the Middy or, "he Freelance Heir.
250 '1 he . idtlhipmun utlneer; or. Brandt, the Bucconoa
264 The Floating Feather; or, Merle hlonte'e Treur

I and. ‘
269 The Gold Ship; or, Merle, the Condemned.
276 Igprig Monten Cruile; or, The Chase of “The U:
. i p.

280 Merle Molte's Fate 3 0r Pearl, the Pirntu’n Bride.

2184 The Sea Marauder; or, hierle Monte‘e l‘icdgo.

2!? Billy Blue-Eyed, the Boy Rover of the lilo Grands.

804 The Depd Shot DandyI; 0r, Benito, the Boy Bugler.

808 keno kit; or. Dead Shot undy’u Double.

314 Thea Myeterioua Marauder; or,'1‘ho Boy Bugler’- L-
T“ .

877 Bonodel, the Boy Rover; or. The Flu ion Schooner.

3"”! The Indian i’llot; or, The Search {or P rate bland.

387 \‘Varpath \Vill, the Boy Phantom.

393 Seawaif, the Boy Lieutenant.

402 Ilodor, the Young Connpirator; or The Fatal LOI‘I

407 The Rov Insurgent; or, PM Cuban Vendetta.

412 The Wild Yachtnnlan: or, The War-Clouu'l Cruise.

429 Duncan Dore, the Boy Refugee.

‘u Luck; or,-Tne Corsair.

48? The Sea Ra der.

44] The Ocean Firefly; or, A Mlddy'l Vengeance.

446 llaphuzard Harry; or, The Scnpe race of the Sea.

450 Wizard “'ill: or. he Buy Ferret 0 New York.

454 Wizard “'lll’o Street Scout-l.

462 The Born Guide: Or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.

468 Neptune Ned, the [My Counter.

474 Flora; or. Wizard W'iii’a V'ng‘eliond Ford.

488 Eerreta Afloat; or. Wizard 'ill‘l Lutt Can.

487 Nevada Ned, the Revolvier Ranger.

495 Arizona Joe the Boy Purd ot‘Texan Jack.

407 Back Taylor, King or the Cowboyl.

508 The Royal Middy : or. The Shark and the Sea Cat.

507 The lluntcd Midi-hi man.

511 The 0utlawed Mid y.

520 Buckskin Bill. the Comanche Shadow.

525'fBrotheI-s in Ruckakin.

580 The Buckskin Bower-n.

585 The Buckskin Rovers.

540 Captain Ku-Klux, the Mmuder or the Rio.

545 Lieutenant Leo, the Son of Lafitte.

550 Lafitte’l Legacy; Or. The Avenging son.

555 The Creole Corsair.

560 Pawnee Bill, the Prairie Shadower.

565 Kent Kingdon, the Card King.

570 Camille, the Card Queen.

575 The Surgeon-Scout Detective.

580 The Outealt Cadet; or, The Fain Bowed".

586 The Buck-kin Avenger.

591 Delmonte. the Young Sen-Rover. .

597 The Young Texan Detective.

602 The Vagabond ofthe Mines. . >

607 The Rover Detective; or, Keno Kit‘o Che-plane. =1 .-

617 Ralfih. the Dead-Shot Scout; or, The Boiler! and im- - ‘

    
 
 
 
  
  
  
  
  
  
   
   
  
  
  
  
  

Red iderl of the Rio.

BY BUFFALO BILL (lion. Wu. 1“. Cody).

8 Kaunas King; or, The Red Right Hand.
19 The Phantom Spy: or,’l'he Pilot of the Prairie.
55 Deadly-Eye, the Unknown Scout.
68 Border Robin flood; or, The Prairie Rover. A»
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Trupper’l 'l‘ruet. ' ‘ ‘ "

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

626 The Champion Parde; or, The Lucifer of Silver Bar.
T. C. Hurbnugh.

627 Tom Bruce of Arkansas; or, The Wolrin the Fold. ,'
Charles Mon'il.

628 Broadway Billy’s Dead Act; or, The league of
Siam Seven. By J. C. Cowdrlck.

629 Violet Vane. the Velvet Sport; Or, The Jubilee ofJackN
By Wm. G. Patten.

680 Deadwood Dick. Jr. in No Man’s Land; or, Golco,
the Gladiator. By Ed. L. Vi heeier. '1 3‘

681 Tom Cat’s Terrible Tank; "’11,, cowboy Dammitfi
Own Cele. By Lieut. A. .Simr.  r V

682 The Dead Detective’l Double. ‘By Gerald Carlton  "

8 Plueky Paul the B0 Pros er-tor: or, The Deadwood

6 8 perado’i Last Innings. 8.3.1,  Gabon  -:

634 Cache Carl, the Chico Giant, or,The True Hearts of: “v '
Eye Roost. By Buck-kin Sam. '-

685 Oklahoma ill, the Blue-Coat Scout: 0r, The Boomer'
Battle. By P. S. Warm I

686 Deadwood Dick, Jr. After the Queer: or. Sn
Snm’l Lalt Green G une. By E. L. W heeicr. . . .

68': Dick Donn, the Dock Boy Detective; or,l.ynxnzvi‘.
By T. (I. Harhaugh.

638 Tom-Cat’s Triumph; or, Black lvan’l Great Combin
Lleut. A. K. Sims.

639 Sunrise Saul, the Expreu-Train Ferret. By Jo. Plat
Ready October 99. c l B _‘ I

640 30k Beth the Centaur of the in e. y .1.’
Ic‘oivrfil’ck. Ready 02mm 99. 

A New Issue Every Tuesday.
The flalf- Dime Library in tor sale by all new
on“ per copy, or sent by mail on receipt of nix mt: each. '

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Fukuoka
98 William Btrcet. New