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Entered at the Post Office at New York. N. Y.. at Second Class anIEfgen. Copyrlg'litfvlss'l, by Emu up Anm I. Mac] 29, 1337.
$2.50 PUBLISHED WEEKLY BY BEADLE AND ADAMS, Price, NO  ‘
& Year- No. 98 WILLIAM STREET, NEW YORK. 5 Cents- ° '

 

 

 

 

 

A Story Founded on Incidents in the Romantic
Life of Dr. Frank POWell (White Beaver),
White Medicine Chief of the
Winnebngoe.‘

BY MAJ. H. B. STODDARD, Ex-Sv‘om,
AUTHOR on- “KID GLOVE KIT AND PARD,”m

CHAPTER I.
A MAN AMONG MEN.
“ WELL, the world has gone against me; bu
thank God, it is not through my ( wn fault!

     

 

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2

Powell’s Pard.

 

is sufficient excuse for me that my cause was
just, and although the Good Book says: ‘Ven-
geance is Mine; 1 will repa it,’ yet we humans
cannot rise to the dignity 0' living up to all its
teachings. I took my own vengeance, and now
the last of my enemies has expiated his crimes,
and my revenge is complete.

" Alone in the world; my fortune, my horse;
my arms, my strength and courage—I will.
with that stood those weapons, that strength
and that nerve, how my way to fame and bet-
ter i‘ortuncl

“ Yonder is my goal,” and he pointed to the
far western horizon. where a cloud-like object
against the sky denoted the presence of the
Rockies; “there, in the race for wealth, one
man is no more heavily handicapped than an-
other, and whatever of past he may have is left
far behind and forgotten.

“ Among those bravo hearts and willing hands
Iwill find a home. \Vith those rough men I
will cast my lot, and mayhap, in future years—
the world forgetting, by the world forgot—the
memory of these bitter days may become (lulled
and I may once more know what happiness is—
if not happiness for Self, then happiness for
others.

“ And now, Black Ben, my bonny steed, bear
me away to yonder mountains, and together “‘0
will leave this world behind us, as the flying
cruiser the port she has lately left.”

The horse answered with a neigh of delight,
and rubbed his nose caressinily against the
shoulder of his master with every symptom of
pleasure, for between brute and man existed as
('10se a bond of sympathy as that born of
close friendship and continued companionship
ebuld be.

Having looked well to (‘adtllercinch and throat-

latch, the man swung himself lightly across his
horse’s back. and, loosening the rein, the willing
animal bounded easily forward with a 1011!,
sweeping stretch, that swept the miles behind
them Ii '6 waves in the wake of the flying
vacht.
- And no better time can be found in which to
:zive a pen~picture of the rider, who thus shook
off his former life, and pressed so eagerly for-
ward toward that future which he would find in
the mountains.

And no finer Specimen of perfect manhood
ever served as model for portrait or statue, and
the whole length and breadth of the plains
might be swept in vain in search of as perfect
grace and hysical beauty as were combined in
the form 0 the young rider who bestrode Black

n.

Six feet, to a hair, in hight, he was erect as a
Norway pine, and straight as the finest arrow,
while his frame was built in hcrculeaupropor-
tions, so perfectly and symmetrically distribut-
ed that at first g ance one could not realize what
an immensely powerful man he was.

His eyes were black and iercing. yet in their
somber depths lingered a k of softnes and
almost womanly tenderness that told how loud
his heart was, and how gentle and courteous he
could be, and how delicate his manner would
become in the presence of women.

Innate chivalry, blended with a ban hty self-
cenfidence, was stamped on his somew at stern
face, for. although but twenty-fivesummera had

'slied their dews upon his head, yet he seemed

thirty years old, so set and determined-looking
were his fine mouth and chin.

1mg lair. as black as the black diamonds fur-
nished b the coal mina, hung in clustering
ringleu or below his shoulders. while a 1011
mustache of the same hue (1 over an
shaded his handsome mouth.

He was dressed in, a strikin costume that
fitted him admirably. and whic consisted of a
loose sack-coat and vest of dark blue—almost
black—velvet. corduroy trowsers, snugly tucked
into the tops of high boots that came to his knee,
while a broad. white sombrero was cla ped neg—
ligently on his head, and shaded his ace from
the beating sun.

A belt, in which were stuck two navy sixes, en-
circled his waist, whilea rifle strapped under his
left leg, and a long, keen-edged knife, completed
his armament.

Such was Frank Powell, better known as
White Beaver, Medicine Chief of the Winno
bagoes, and a firmer friend, a more formidable
foe never extended his hand in kindness or in
anger than he.

For injury done him he had tracked and slain
the men who had cressed his path, and now,
with the dead pest buried, he was riding out to-
ward a new home, new friends, and new for-

tune.
His good horse galloped bravely on over the
unvdrying monotoay of the far-spreading

 

prairie. until the sun sunk behind the distant
range, and the shadows from the lofty peaks ex-
tended to his feet.

The increasing freshness of the heat-burdened
air was very grateful to both horse and rider,
yet the latter began to feel a little uneasy at the
rapid approach of night, not on hisown account,
but because of his horse.

For it was of the utmost importance that his
camp should be in the vicinity of water, if he
wished to continue his journey uninterruptedly
the next day, and as yet he could see no signs of
stream or crock in the neigh borhood.

Yet the broken country on the north and
a couple miles distant gave promise of water,
for he had come in sight of abrupt bluffs that
rose from the rolling prairie; so with a word of
encouragement to his steed he swerved to the
right, making for a point where the plain was
rough and more undulating.

And in a few minutes he galloped over the
rise in the prairie that formed the “divide ” and
looking down into the hollow below, drew his
horse on to his haurchcs with a sudden pull.
For a striking tableau mot Powell’s eye!

A tableau in which the central figure was a
veritable giant, who strod under an improvised
gallows, a noose around his neck, his single arm
bound behind him, while a score of scowling
men were gathered about their victim, ready, at
a moment’s notice, to swing him into cteruityl

CHAPTER II.
BRAVING A sconn.

THE means used to prepare their instrument
of execution were novel, and showed that their
ingenuity was not at fault when vengeance was
to be satiated.

Two wagons had been drawn up, side b side,
and their tongues, lifted high in the air, had
been braced sharp up by ropes fastened
to the neck-yokcs and drawn back to the hind
axles.

Across these two uprights was lashed a third
wa gen-pole at a sufficient hi ght from the ground
to allow the victim to swing clear, while across
this latter support was thrown the rope at the
end of which was the fatal noose.

Several of the men Were seated in the wagons,
leaning against the tail-boards, so that the
weight of the giant might not overbalance the
wagons, and, lifting the hind wheels. lower him
to the ground by causmg the tongues to topple
forward.

The prisoner was a man of Titanic build, but
evidently had suffered from some accident, as
the left sleeve of his shirt—for he was coatless—
hung limp and empty at his side.

For a moment Powell sat like a statue. looking
down upon the scene below, and then, plunging
his spurs deep into his horse’s side, he rode down
into the band like a tornado and sprung to the
ground with the Words:

fl)“ bLtay, gentlemen! that murderers’ work is
is?

Startled and astonished the men fell back,
right and left. and gazml at him for a moment
Without re lying; then the boldest of their num-
ber stepped) out and addressed the new-comer.

“ Ye r a leetle fresh with yertalk about ‘ mur-
derers,’ young feller, an’ want ter be a bit keer-
ful w’ot ye’re about.

“String him up, boys!”

“ S ! That man does not hang until I’m
satisfi that ii well deserves his punishment!”

“ He does hang, an’ hangs till dead!” snarled
the other as he again turned to his companions.

“Up with him, boys!” and at the word the
men who held the cord walked away toward the
rear of and between the two wagons. and drag—
ged the victim high in the air where he hung
dangling and gasping, With protruding eyes an
tongue, slowly strangling to death.

But. only for an instant.

Crack I

And cut, as if by a stroke of a keen knife, the
rope arted. and the huge form dropped with
a cras to the ground.

The rider had drawn his revolver, and appar-
ently without taking aim. had fired at the tense
cor , his bullet striking it fairly and of course
severing it in an instant; at the same time cry-

ing—

“ And I say he shall not hang!”

For a moment every one stood in silent amaze
merit. staring at this reckless man who so auda-
ciously dared to brave that number of infuriated
men and place his own life at their disposal, as
it seemed.

With a simultaneous shout, twenty weapons
were drawn. twenty guns or revolvers cocked.

But their leader, or the man who appeared to
be such, step d between his men and Powell,
waving his and to lower the weapons, while

 

Frank, having replaced his still smoking pistol
in his belt, stood with folded arms, quietly fac-
1ng the frowning band before him.

“ Young fellcr,” said the leader, in an angry
tone, yet unable to repress a glance of admira—
tion at the man who had thus braved their
wrath: “ You air cl’ar grit, but ye’r’ ’woy off
ter come hyar a-tryin’ ter save men w’ot hain’t
got no call on yo. Yer too tine a feller to take a
thicf’s part nn’ run thcr risk 0’ slippin’ )‘cr own
neck in ther noose; so—stan’ back an’ let ther
eirkus move, or—”

The pause and the scowl were far more sug-

geStive than Words, even wii bout the significant ‘

motion of the finger toward the Weapon, yet
Powell did not stir, but quietly spoke.

“What has this man done that you should
hang him up like a dog, without trial, judge or
'ury?”

“ Thet’s none 0" your bizncss.”

“ Then, by the Eternal Heavens! I’ll make it
my business!”

Still the some quiet tones. still the same quiet
smile, still the same foldcd arms and immovable
position; one might compare him to a v lcano
slumbcring and only (llrrt‘lr‘sing the presence of
the pent-up fires beneath, by the slight film of
smoke that hangs over the quiet crater.

“ Yer hcv a good deal for say fur a kid like
ye be. lVbat air yer name?”

“That (loos not concern you, at all, that I
know of, but still I [will gratify your curiosity;
“ some men call me Dandy Frank. others Fancy
Frank, still others the Magic Doctor, but to
most persons in city and on plain, I am known
as Dr. Frank Poivoll.”

“ What! Frank Powell 1”

“ The same.”

“ Doctor Frank I’owclll"

“ Doctor Frank Powell l"

“ Then. 01’ man, put her thar,” and the spokes—
man extended his brawny hand and waited for
Powell to gi asp it.

“This is a sudden change in your manner,
my friend,” said Powell, not knowing what
treachery might be intended; “what does this
mean?”

“ It means, Doc., thet a year or so ago yo
saved thcr life of a man w’ot hed been booked
by a steer, an’ thet man war me I”

“ You !”

“ You bet.

“ I war purty nigh dead when you cut me
open, an‘ ther doctors to Kansas City hcd give
me up, but w’cn you slashed yer knife inter me
an’ giv’ me thet relief I thought you war an
angel cum down frum he’vin. I didn‘t see
nothin’ of ye, nn’ wouldn’t ’a’ know’d it war
you of one 0’ ther doctors hedn’t sed so. Now
will or shake?”

“ illingly. my friend, and I am glad to
learn that you are all right.

“ But tell me what does this mean—what has
this man done?" and turning, he pointed to the
still prostrate giant, who lay where he had
fallen, staring with wide open eyes at his
rescuer, and wondering how all this would end.

“Done!” echoed a voice from the crowd of
men who clustered about the wagons; w’v he’s
stole my pile, that’s w'ot he’s done, an‘ he’s goin‘
fer swing fer it, too. ye kin bet yer butes!”

“ I decidedly doubt that statement,” returned
Powell calmly.

“ Wal, yer needn’t. Yer may hev saved ther
life 0’ Californy. thar, but derned ef yer kin
save ‘ One-Armed Ol‘,’ kin be boys?”

“Yer bet he kain‘tl” was the sullen, almost
general response.

“ Shoot him!”

“ Knife him I”

And a dozen other cries arose from the crowd,
angry at the prospect of being baffled of their

prey.

And the man who had dared Powell. sprung
forward to re-adjust the rope about the giant’s
nevk When Frank, extending his left hand and
stepping one pace forward. seized him by. the
collar and with one mighty fling threw him
high into the air over the cross-bar of the im-
provised gallows, where he hung, yelling with
pain and fright.

And Powell, draWing his revolvers like a.
flash, faced the shrinking crowd and cried in
thunderin tones.

‘ “The t man who moves, dies in his
tracks!”

—

CHAPTER IIL
A STRATEGIC novn.

FOR amoment the crowd of men that con-
fronted Frauk Powell stood as if petrified with
amazement that one man should dare thus to
face such fearful odds, and then with a rOSr

   
 

 

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Powell’s Pard.

 

 

 

  
 

like the bursting of a volcano the human flood
rushed upon him.

But, Powell had, during that instant, resolved
on his course, and now he executed. Witha
bound like a. panther leaping on its prey, he
sprung to the spot where One-Armed 011 was ly-
ing, with a circular sweep of his knife—for he
had drawn it as he sprung, placing one of his
revolvers in his belt, and unsheathing the blade
with one and the same motion—he cut the ropes
that fastened the giant, and with a cry:

“ To your feetdind defend yourself!”

With a second leap he sprung behind one of
the wagons, fell to the ground and fired, under
the wagon-bed, into the crowd on the other
side.

At the same instant California and One-Armed
011 imitated his example; Powell, after firing
handing the latter one of his l‘cvolvci's,

As the double report rung out on the air came
the clarion cry:

“Stand! or we fire again!”

And the baffled crowd seen by the men who
thus defied them, but unable to see them, sto )(1
fast, fearing to move, lest, like their two coin-
rades, they might be pierced though hip and
thigh by the unerring bullets from Powell’s
never-failing weapons.

True, one of their number, less cautious than
his companions, attempted to bend and fire
under the wagon; but before he had lowored his
pistol sufficiently to bring the trio in range,
California had sent a message to him in the

, Shape of a conical piece of lead, that persuaded

him to lie down and die, and abandon all fur
ther efforts to dislodge them.

One-Armed 011—the man who had so nearly
met his death b the rope, so lay that his body
shielded that o Powell-a tacit ackuowledg
ment on his part that his life was no longer his

own, but belonged to the man who had saved.

him.

And so they remained for several minutes, the
men not daring to move, as they realized that
the Siiglitest motion would be followed by the
crack of a revolver and injury, if not death to
one of their number. a,

Yet they kept on talking to each other, and as
all spoke at once, a confusion of sounds arose,
amidst which it was not pOSsible to distinguish
one Word from another.

Finally one, who seemed to be the leader,
called for silence, and addressing his companions,
said:

“ Boys, this yere trouble hez gone fur ’nough,
an’ we air coralled; fur them them three hez got
the bulge on us, an’ it ain’t no use a tryin’ ter
lick ’em, fixed cz they air. _

“ I purpose ter 118V. 8. oompermize, an’ ef it
air a reeable ter ye, I’ll perpose it to yer.”

“ 0 on with er thunder.”

“ Shoot ahea .”

“ Give it to us, sharp!”

‘f We’re wid ye!”

And a half a dozen exclamations of like char-
acter urged him on.

“ Well, that feller W’ot ye heerd call himself
Povell air, to my knowin‘, ther wu’st man tei'
tackle on ther perarie, an‘ be hez got ther dead
drop on us; s0, boyS, I am a-goin’ ter weaken,
throw up both lian’s an’ quit, an’ I think thet’s
ther best thing we all kin do.

“ It air tutf, but w’ot kin we do? Ef we
more we air gone. Ef we make an attack some
on us hez got ter go under, an’ w’ot’s the use, I
sa 5? ,

XWe air in a hostile kentry, an’ at we get
ter fi’tin’ ’mongst ourselves, we air goin’ tex- be
eventdastin’ly chawed up.

“ What does yer all say?”

“ Ye’r’ right, Jim,” g’l‘OWled one of the
wounded men, who lay on the ground, and who
had been an attentive listener to all that was
said.

“ We air in ther hole, an’ thar’s no use ter
firaigl outen it, onless Doc Powell thar len’s us a

an .

“ l’m willin’ tcr surrender, fur one.”

“ An’ me,” “ an’ me,” came from a score of
voices, and seeing that the almostamanimous
opinion of the mm was that discretion was the
better part of valor, Jim, as the spokesman was
called, again raised his voice, standing still in
fiis gracks, and not daring to turn more than his

ea .

“ Say, Doc, air it peace?”

“If you so Nash," came back the cool rejoin-
der from the imperturbable Powell, who scemed
as unconcerned as though in a lady’s houdoir,
airin conversmg on the most indifferent sub-

“ An’ w’ot is the conditions?”
u What conditions do you demand!”
“We want terhev a trial of One-Arm 011, 811’

 

yer kin be jedge, an’ of yer 592 he air innercent, ' developments, while he calmly surveyed his ad~

then w’ot yer sez, goes—hey, boys?”

“ Thet’s fair, by gum, an’ ther Doc’s a squar’
man, an’ we’re willin’ ter leave ther hull bizness
tor him.”

“ Your proposition is certainly a fair one, and
if you promise that we shall not be harmed, and
that One-Armed 011, as yOu call him, shall have
a fair trial, I‘ll agree,” returned Powell.

“ But, mind—no treachery, or—”

“All right, Doc,” replied Jim, answering for
his companions, “ yer kin come out an’ won’t be
hurt.”

Not licsitating an instant, Powell rose to his
feet, iincocking his revolver and placing it in
his belt as he (lid so, thus placing himSelf cu-
tirely at the mercy of his late rdvorsarics.

But not a weapon was raisod against him; not
a threatening motion was made, and he strode,
unharmed, into the midst of the crowd, who fell
back rcspet tf all y, and hurried to the side of the
wounded man.

“ My friend,” he said, in a voice as gentle as a
woman’s, “ I put that bullet in there, and ought
to know where it has lodged; let‘s see if we
can’t find it.”

versa ries and endeavored to penetrate their din—
guises—for disguised he was certain they were.
The waving plumes, the dress. the wea

E carried by the men—all demonstrated the fact

l
i
i
l
l

i
l
I

And with a nerve that was steady, a hand j

that was as true, as his skill was Wonderful, he
made a bold incision in the man’s side and the

hero.
For a few moments the wounds were dressed

that they were Indians, yet, cunning as had
been the director of this masquerade, he had
overlooked one important item—that of saddle
and bridle, and even at that distance the keen
and practiced eye of Frank Po“ ell distinguished
incongruities in the make—up of the band, that
stamped them as white men.

But he was not left long in doubt, for one of
the men, leaving his companions, rode rapidly
forward alone, waving a white cloth in token of
truce, and quickly reaching speaking distance
called out to the young doctor. who sat quietly
awaiting his arrival—using such perfect Eng-

‘ilSll, that if any doubt had yet remained in

Powell's mind, it would have at once been dissi-
patcd.

"I desire,” said the new—comer, “to hold a.
Short pai'lcy with you.”

“ Let it be short, then,” curtly replied Powell,
keeping a wary eye on his accostcr. ‘

" You have in your camp, yonder, a young
person who is my prisoner. and although that

1young person Las temporarily (Si'apcd, I am
3 convmced that when you are made acquainted
bullet dropped onto the ground, whence it was i
picked up by the doctor and handed to the i
wounded man, who bore his suffering like a 1

and bandaged, tlic saddle-bags on Powell’s horse '

furnishing ointment, lint and plasters, the man
made (‘Olllfol‘tfli’ile in an improvised hammock,
made of a blanket swung between the wagons,
and then Powell, having examined the other
victimsof the fray, and having satisfied him-
self that they were beyond human aid, turned

with the facts you will no longer interfere.”

“ What are these important facts!” snecringly
queried Fran}: l‘owell.

“ liavea claim on that person that even you
will not dispute.”

“ Not so sure of that. TVhen I see one against
fifty, I generally espouse the came of the one,
andqucstion the status of the case afterward.”

“ That is border custom, I know; but in this
case custom would be madness. Glance toward
my men, and you Will see that there are fifty of

1 them.”

to One—Armed 011, who had been following him i
j Powell, again snccring at the man who was
“ And now, sir, we will attend to your case, 1

about and aiding him and said, stci'iily:

and rest assured that if you are guilty you
shall be punished, if you are innocent you shall
go free.

“What is the charge against this man and
who makes it?”

every one’s attention, and, looking, they saw a
single rider spurring toward them for life and
death, while fifty horsemen pursucd him, yell-
ing, now that they saw that they were discov—
ered like fiends incarnate.

CHAPTER IV.
DEFIANCE.

THE horse ridden by the pursued man was
nearly exhausted and it was evident to all that
he would not last until the camp was reached
and that the pursucrswmildinevitably overtake
the fleeing man and work their will upon him if
they were not interfered with.

Taking in the situation at a glance, Doctor
Powell. springing to where his horse yet stood,
the well-trained animal not having moved since

 

his rider had descended, threw himself into the '

saddle and before the others fully realized his
intention, was spurring over the’ plain toward
the approaching band of riders.

But he did not head Black Ben directly to-
ward the pursued man, but rather swerved to
the left, and then circling, galloped between the
hunted and his hunters.

At that moment the horse of the fleeing nian
—ut‘.erly exhausted—stumbled, rose again,
stumbled once more, and finally pitched heavily
forward, throwing his rider far over his head,
and fell to the turf dead, while the man, falling
heavily, lay insensible, and evidently seriously
hurt.

One-Armed 011, when he had seen Doctor
Powell dash out over the prairie so recklessly,
hesitated not a moment, but, leaping out with a
magnificent strlda, bounded over the prairie to-
ward the prostrate man, carrying with him the
revolver Powell had given him.

Reaching the side of the innpngime man he
stooped and grasping him about the waist, with
a mighty swing, flung him over his shoulder and
started back toward the wagons. carrying his
burden as if it had been a feather’s weight,
while behind him sounded the rapidly repeatrd
cracking of a rifle, as Powell, unslinging his
Weapon, opened fire on the men who were riding
in this race for life, bringing them to a sudden
(hall: and emptying more than one of their sad-

es.

For some reason that he could not compre-
hend, his fire was not returned, save by one or
two scattering shots, so that he soon ceased fir-
ing, and at like a statue, awaiting future

i

“Not all available though,” interrupted
gradually losing his temper under the qu1et
sarcasm of the other.

“ True; your rifle spoke frequently and to the

3point, and had I not checked my comrades,

your fate would before this have been that

 of those whom you have done to death.”
But before a word could be uttered in re- ;
spouse a shout from far OVOI‘ the plain attracted :

 

l

“ Possible, but not probable. Yet you are
wasting time and might as well come to the
point.

“ You demand that I should deliver up to you
the young fellow we recently rescued; on what
grounds do you base this demand ?”

“ On grounds none dare deny the justice of;
on the grounds that the person whom you
speak of as a young fellow, is—my wife.”

“ Your wife I”

“ Precisely—my lawfully sealed wife.”

“ Sealed! Then it is as I suspected. You and
your band are Mormons.”

“ \Ve are."

“ And masquerading over the plains in a. very
casil penetrated disguise.”

“ e the disguise good or bad it serves our

urpose.”

“ And that purpose is?"

“ That purpose is—none of your affair, Doo-
tor Frank Powell.

“ You know me, then.”

“Yes, I know you, and the Church knows
you,] and is tiring of your presence here on
cart i.

“ Beware, Frank Powell, for the Destroying
Angels know no law but that of their religion,
and if the heads of that religion bid them do
any‘hing, no power on earth can prevent the
can ing out of that order.”

“ am not here to discuss the merits or
demerits of your bands of authorized assassiIiS.

“ \Vill you come to the point, or am I to sup-
pose our conversation at an end?”

“ I tell you the girl is my wife, and I demand
that she be given up to me.”

“Doyou imagine for an instant that Ire—
cognize any of the tenets of your sorcalled
Church? ,

“Do you imagine that I am of the opinion
that any such a farce as ‘ sceling,’ gives you
any eontrol over that poor child?

“ It is on a par with the Usual actions of your
church, that you should hunt her, with fifty
armpd men, aflou would a rarcning wolf.

“ Fifty arm , men against cne poor defense-
less child! Pahl It is an action worthy of the
savages whose crstunies you have assumed.”

“Have a care, Frank Powell! Do not go too
far, or we will ceaSe to parlcy, and resort to
arms! And you know what the result will be;
or if y‘ou do not—count your men and then count
mine.

“See here, Mr. Destroying Angel, or what-
ever you may call yourself, you are protected

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Powell’s Pard.

 

 

by that white cloth you carry; but if you do
not soon return to that howling mob, yonder,
by the powers that rule the earth, I will send
you on a. longer journey than the one I now sug-
gest to you I” and the sharp click of a cocked rc-
volver emphasized the remark.

The, Mormon evidently realized that Frank
I’OWell was in deadly earnest, for, not hesitat—
ing an instant, he wheeled his horse in the direc-
tion of his men, and gallopcd back toward his
band, while Powell, after seeing that the man
was well on his way, also turned and cantered
back to the wagons, where the men were impa-
tientl awaiting his arrival.

“ en!” he cried, as he rode up to where they
were standing, and pointing to the yet inani-
mate form of the rescued girl, “ those supposed
Indians are Mormons in disguise, and are trying
to drag that child, against her will, to their
camp?

“ ill you permit this?”

“ No! no! no!” came from a dozen voices, all
the innate chivalry of the plainsan aroused by
the sight of a girl in distress.

“ Thank you; I did not think you would. So,
then, we will defend her to the end.”

And looking quickly around, Powell, with the
all-embracing glance of a man born to com-
mand, took in the situation at once, and ro-
ceeded to station his men where they could st
defend the camp, reserving the post of danger
for himself. as he always did.

 

CHAPTER V.
“ wan !”

FOE a few moments there was a lull in the
proceedings, while the men dropping for a.
time their own quarrels, jomed hands, so to
speak, and made common cause against the
common enemy.

The leader of the Mormons had by this time
reached his band, and from the manner in which
they clustered about him it could readily be un-
derstood that they were consulting together as
to what had best be done.

They were within range, and one of Powell’s
late adversaries could not forego the temptation
of firing at so magnificent a target, so, rest-ing
his ride on one of the wagon-wheels, he took a
steady aim and fired, landin his leaden mes—
senger plum in the center 0 the gathering,
sen ing one of them to the ground and causin
the others to scatter like a flock of frighten
sheep.

In an instant they were dispersed and scudded
away over the prairie, until they were hidden
by a rise in the ground which protected them
from the camp, while a shout of laughter went
up from the plainsmen as they congratulated
their comrade upon the success of his shot.

But their hilarity was broken in upon by the
ringing voice of Frank Powell, who came stalk-
ing into their midst from the advanced post he
had chosen.

“Boys,” he cried, “those men have onl re-
tired temporarily, and will, no doubt, attac us
within a short time—that is as soon as the sun
has gone down and night hides their move«
ments.

“ They have not returned our fire because
they fear to in'ure the girl; but I know, and
you know, the ormons toowell toanticipate
that they will abandon their attempt to gain
possession of their former prisoner.

“ One of you remain on guard while the others
prepare supper. I will look after the girl, for
this long swoon is beginning to be alarmin .”

And going to one of the wagons in whic the
injured maiden had been carefully placed on a
half-dozen blankets and made as comfortable as
circumstances would permit, he examined her
head carefully, realizing that it was there that
the injury must lie that caused this continued
unconsciousness.

And at almost the first touch of his skilled
fingers be located the wound, and found that in
falling she had struck on her head and that a
small pm, which fastened her hair and which
was ornamented with a ball of solid gold was
the cause‘of the trouble and that her sk was
fractured.

The wound was not necessarily mortal, and he
set about restoring her to consciousness—which,
with the aid of sundry drugs he carried with
him, he soon succeeded in doing.

But with consciousness came no return of
reason, and he realized that a surgical o ration
must be performed and her brain re ieved of
the pressure caused by the small fractured bit of
bone, before she would be able to comprehend
what was passing and recall what had hep ned.

And pitying her dee 15* he stood and 100 ed at
the lovely pa 6

face 0 the girl, whose quivering

 

lips betokened such intense suffering, whose
magnificent eyes shone with no look of intelli-
gcnce.

She was perhaps seventeen—maybe younger,
and was as fair in feature, as perfect in form as
any poet’s dream or sculptor’s ideal.

Slightly above the average hight, her hands
and feet were molded on a marvelously small
scale, while her long, golden hair, now released
from the thralldom of the confining pin, swept
down over the blankets that formed her couch
in a flood of glittering glory.

She was a flower plucked from a lovely gar-
den of girls, and it was a sad fate that had be
fallcr. her, that she should thus be lying, helpless
and injured, in the midst of the wide prairie.
with no friends near her and with a band of
men—Mormons—tho ravening wolves of the
‘Vest—hent on capturing her and carrying her
off to a livinrr death.

And Fran Powell, his heart filled with pity
for the defenseless child and his eyes twelling
with tears of which no honorable man need be
ashamed, vowed, with a deep oath, to save her
from the awful fa to that threatened her.

For he did not believe that any ceremony had
been performed by which the Mormon Church
could claim her as its own, as he was convinced
that there was a Mormon train in the vicinity,
and that she among other deluded converts, had
been persuaded to jointhe train, under pretense
of some one of the glittering and lowing futures
with which the missionaries of [ah are in the
habit of deludin their victims.

But as Powel stood there, at a loss to know
what to do in this case, a warning cry from the
sentinel sted on the plain, some distance out
recalled im to a sense of his surroundings, and
turning, he looked out over the prairie and saw,
riding leisurely toward them, a second emis-
sary who was waving a second flag of truce,
an who, arriving at a distance of three or four
hundred yards from the wagons, stopped and sat
motionle5s, apparently waiting until some one
should ride out and accost him.

As if the same thought had struck each and
all of the men, they turned to Powell, as if ex-

ting that he would investi ate the matter, so,
caving the young Sr] lying ck on the blank-
ets, he walked quic y out toward the new-comer
and accosted him.

“ What is wanted now?” he asked, sternly, for
he was becoming weary of these persistent ef-
forts on the part of the Mormons to parley with
him.

“We want the girl,” laconically replied the
Mormon.

“I have but one answer to give to that de-
mand, and have already given it, so advise you
not to persist.”

“ But I have a proposition to maketo you,
doctor."

“Well, let’s hear it,” impatiently replied the
young physician.

“ Give up the 'rl to us and we’ll let you and
your men go. fuse, and we will attack you,
take our revenge for the murder of our com-
rades, and carry off the young woman in spite

of on.

‘y We outnumber you and will have no trouble
in doing as we wish; but we do not care to fight
unless compelled to do so.

“ You have your choice; give her up quietly,
and go your way, or—refuse and there will not
be one of you left to tell the story of Mormon

ven eance.

“%hoosel"

Re ressing his anger with an eflort, Powell,
mere y remarkin , f‘ Wait here a moment,”
turned and walk back to the wagons, and go-
ing to one of them, where he had seen a bundle
of arrows, captured from some wandering red-
skin, he took one of the shafts from the sheaf,
and turning again, stalked out over the rairie
to where the Destroying Angel awai him,
and, taking the arrow by the head, extended his
hand without a word.

The Mormon took the arrow and glanced at it
quickly.

“ This is a war arrow l” he exclaimed, quickly,
as he saw the barbed head.

“ Precisely.”

“ Then your decision is war?”

“ Precisely.”

“ You do not mean—”

“ I mean,” thundered Powell, that if you send
any more skulking s ies, I will shoot them
down as I would a we] , bear they flags of truce
or not!

“ If you want the girl—come and take her!”

Without a. word the rider wheeled his horse
and rode away, and without a word Frank
Powell returned to the camp.

“Boys,” said he as the men pressed forward

 

to meet him, “it is war to the death or a sur-
render of that poor child.

“ Which do you choose?”

“ War!” came back the unanimous answer.

“ Then look well to your weapons, for there-
will be lively times around here to-night.”

 

CHAPTER VI.
AN UNLUCKY STUMBLE.

DARKNESS settled down over the scene and
with the approach of night came heavy clouds
that covered the heavens until the sky was black
as midnight.

The young girl still lay in the wagon where
she had been placed and Powell had carefully
attended to her and, having administered a
slight narcotic, now had the relief of 5(9ng her
fall into a. deep slumber, that promised to last
until morning.

He then had attended carefully to the posting
of the sentinels and being assured that all had
been done that could be done to protect the
camp, was now seated talkin toOne—Armed
011, while on his left stood Cali ornia.

“Tell me,” said Powell—for we now have a
little time, as it is not robable that any attack
will b’l made u ion us fore midnight—tell me
about this trou le that came so near resulting in
your death, 01].

But before the latter, could reply, California
broke in: ,

“It was this way.” he said. “Oll an‘ Jim
war a-bunkin’ tergether, an’ this mornin’ w’en
Jilm ’woke, he missed his belt whar he kep’ his

i e.

“ He looked ’roun' an’ see 01! a-comin‘ towards

himl; an’ see the belt a-Ihangin‘ out 0’ 011’s
t

- e .
po‘c‘ Jim grabbed it an' opened it, an’ found thet
the money were gone, so he ’cused on o’ stealin‘
it, an’ that he was acomin‘ back to lit ther
belt whar he hed got it from an’ hed id ther
money.

“ er boys, w’en they heerd o’ it, give 011
ten hours tor return it, an’ swore they (1 hang
him inside that time ef he didn’t show up. An‘
they would hev, too, of yer hedn’t blocked their

me.”

“Well, 0]]. what have you to say?” queried
Powell, turning to the giant.

“W’y only thet I foun’ Jim‘s belt lying on
ther groun’ over yonder, an’ picked it up, an‘
war a-goin’ ter give it ter him, w'en he flew up,
an’ ’cused me o’ stealin‘ ther money; but I never
seen it.”

“Well, to-morrow we will investigate the
matter and see if we can’t clear you, for you
know it’s tough papers for a man to be suspect-
ed of being a thief.”

“ I know it,” growled 01!, "an’ l ain‘t a-goin’
ter stand it, neither,” and he sat grumbling un—
til Powell told him tohush, asa suspicious sound,
wafted from over the rairie by the gentle
night-wind caught his at ntion.

"The Mormons are up to some devilment,” he
whispered, “ and I’ll just take a stroll and see
what is up.

“ You stay here and watch the girl and see
that no harm comes to her.”

And rising, POW?“ walked awn out on the
plain, looking cautiously ahead an bending low
in an endeavor to see if he could catch si ht of
any moving object, and listening intent y for
ting Bus icious sound.

at a l was quiet, and he could see nothing, on
account of the almost impenetrable darkness
that enshrcuded the earth, and so he rroceeded
onward, asstealthily as a cat stealing on its
prev. stoppin every few steps to reconnoiter.

e procee thus for some time, and was
about to give up his ex edition and return to
camp when a whispere word struck his car
and as he set his right foot- which had been
lifted as the voice reached him—on the ground
he stepped into a hole burrowed in the prairie
and falling heavily forward, be crashed to the
ground, and fell prone upon his face between
two men who were seated on the grass.

In an instant they were upon him and be-
fore he could turn, the running DON-'9, of a-
lariat had been slipped over his arms and about
his body, and 3 sombrero clap ed over his
face so as to mume his voice, an in less time
than it takes the eye to plance at these lines he
was bound, gagged and helpless.

His captor then struck a light and looked at
him, and when the flickering fiane revealed his
face one of the men uttered an exclamation and
whispered—althoth there seemed no reason
that he should lower his voice, as they were for
distant from the wagons: I

“Here’s luck! We‘ve captured their leader
and now there will be slight difficulty in recap-

_._,, 4,...“ .

 

   

l
|
l
r

 

 

 

   

 

f'r'k '

 

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

 

 

turing the girl, and wiping out that gang of
cow-punchers.”
“ You know him, then!” queried hiscomrade,
bending eagerly forward.
“ Yes; he’s the man that I had the conversa-
tion with this afternoon, and the one who defied

us.

“ The captain will be decidedly lad to learn
of our capture, and will be muc pleased to
make his uaintauce.”

“ Then 1’] go back to where the men are and
tell him of this, and he can come out and inter-
view our prisoner.”

"Yes; and I’ll remain here and watch him
for he is as slippery as an eel, if I know the dif-
ference between a coyote and a prairie-dog.”

“ All right; watch him closely, and I‘ll hurry
back with the captain.”

And so Powell remained, unable to move, for
some minutes, until the sound of footsteps hur-
rying toward them, notified him that the mes-
senger was returning with the man he called the
captain.

The leader, arriving alongside Powell, stopped
and stood a moment. as if exulting in his dis-
comfiture, and then, turning to one of his men,
whis red a few words to him.

“ é)er scheme, Cap,” replied the other,
chuckling as though something amused him,
"‘ an’ you are the very man to carry it out.”

“ Think so?”

“ I know it; same size, same build, almo :t the
same voice, nothing will prevent your suc-
ceedin’, for it is so dark they would never Sus—

 

“ Well, it’s worth trying at any rate, and I‘ll
risk it.

“ Return to where the men are stationed, and
order them not to make any noise until I return
—that is, if’ I do not return within an hour, you
will know something is up, and you had best
make the attack as arranged.” '

“All right, Cap, good luck to you!”

As the man disaplwared in the darkness, the
captain, or leader, of the Mormons again ap-
proached Powell, and seating himself on the
grass beside him, addreSsed him:

“ A brave man is entitled to more considera-
tion than an ordinary prisoner, and is always
honorable.

“ Promise me, by nodding your head, that
you will not call out or make any signal, and I
will take the gag from your mouth.”

A moment’s hesitation and then Powell nod-
ded his head slowly, and the gag was removed
from his 1i , when, after a few deep respira-
tions, he as ed:

“ What do you want?” '

“ You are wholly in my power, and I Wish to
make a. proposition to you. '

“We Mormons. as you know, are merelless,
and when any one crosses our path we do not
step around, but over them. _

‘ You now have the opportunit of savmg
your life. by exchanging for it one w 10 is of no
mterest to you.

“ Promise me that you will deliver the girl to
me, if I accompany you to your camp, and
allow usto return thence, unharmed, and your
bonds shall be IOOSed and you are a free man.

“Refuse, and—well, you know as well as I
can tell you what the consequences will be.”

There was a moment‘s silence, and then Pow‘
ell’s answer came.

What was it? We shall see; but the fact re-
mains that shortly after, two men. one of whom
might have been recognized as Frank Powell,
left the spot, hurried toward the wagons, and
after being challenged by, and passing the senti-
nel, walked, unrebukcd, to the wagon where the
girl was lying, and by which One-Armed 011
was standing. . .

CHAPTER VII.
THE MASSACaE. .

THE girl was sleeping heavfiy, owm to the
influence of the narcotic that Powell ha admin-
istered, and was entirely unconscious or her sur-
roundings, while Oll stoou silently by, faithful
to the trust that Powell had confided to hlm.

The two new—comers approached the wagons,
having visited one or two of the others pre-
viously, as if to see whether any of the men
Were shirkiug duty, and then the taller of them
‘Wlii’snci'ed to 011,

“ She seems to be sleeping pretty quietly.”

“ Yes. sir,” replied the one-armed giant, “ an’
she hain‘t moved once sence you left. '

“ Yer must hev give her a strong dose 0’ sum-
thin’ ter make her sleep like thet.

“ But, did yer 1’arn anything w’ile yer were
a-scoutin’ out yonder?”

“ Not much, except that the Mormons seem to

“ Go and make a round of the camp, and see
if the men are on the alert, for the attack may
be made at any moment."

“ All 0. K., sir,” replied 011, as he turned in
obedience to the command, and moved off in the
darkness.

Immediately on his disappearance, the two
men, seizing the ends of the blanket on which
the unconscious girl lay, lifted her from the
wagon, and, cautiously threading their way out
of the camp, and going in the direction opposite
to that from which they had come, and by great
good-fortune escaping observation, struck over
the plain and taking a wide circuit, finally came
to the point where Powell had been captured,
where they deposited their burden on the ground,
when one of them left his companion, soon re-
turning with two led horses, between which was
slunga sort of im rovised litter. upon which
the unconscious gir was placed, when both men
again started off and soon rejoined their com-
rades, who greeted them with suppressed excla-
mations of joy and congratulated them warmly.

The trick had succeeded, and the leader. Mer-
vin \Vclker, disguised in Powell‘s liabiliments,
had succeeded in penetrating the fold and car-
rying off the lamb, while Powell, her sworn
protector, lay, still bound and helpless, in the
power of her enemies.

“ Now, men.” cried Welker, after he had or—
dered and obtained silence, “ what do you say:
Shall we wreak our wrath on yonder men, and
inwicnge ourselves for the death of our com-
ra< cs?

aim but the distant flashes of their adversaries’
weapons—inflicted apparently no injury on the
Mormon band.

Such one-sided warfare could have but one re-
sult, and soon. as the fire from the camp grew
less and less rapid and finally ceased altogether,
the Mormons, with wild yells that would have
shamed their red brethren of the plains, made a
fierce charge on the wagons. and, meeting with
no resistance, scaled the walls of the improvised
fortification, and with a brutality that was
hightened by the sight of their helpless victims,
hacked and mutilated and bruised the bleeding
bodies until they retained slight, if any, vestiges
of humanity.

Hurrying hither and thither, the fiendish band
reveling in their shamble-house work like devils
incarnate, spared not one, and as the light flick-
ered out it left the camp to darkners and to
death, for all of the men who had been there en-
camped had died, one after the other, until not
one was left to tell the tale of this massacre—or
so it seemed to the Mormons, who were satisfied
that none had escaped.

So, exulting in their vengeance, they returned
to where their horses were picketcd, mounted
and rode aw ay after the main band, just as the
first faint streaks of dawn illumiued the east
with delicate bands of gray and gold.

CHAPTER VIII.
A SCARED NIGGER.
THE sun, rising, looked down upon a scene of

 

 

“ Yes! yes!” came in unison from the band he
commanded.

“Then so be it; as for our prisoner, we will
hold him as such until we reach the main body
and will then submit him to the mercies of our
chief.

“ Ten of you—you, Claren and your squad,
take charge of the girl and the man, and start
on your road to rejoin the main body, and after
we have finished w1th yonder crew, we will fol-
low and overtake you.’

The discipline of the band was perfect and in a
few moments the guard was en rou to, Powell
being mounted on iis horse, while the girl re-
clined in the improvised litter and still slum-
bered quietly.

And then the men who remained behind began
their preparations for the attack on the camp,
and, silently as the painted savages whose dis.
guises they wore, they crept forward over the
plain as quiet] * as the shadows of the night.

Advancing rst in a straight line, the extrem-
ities of which were nearly a thousand yards
apart, they began finally to bend about and en-
cxrcle the little bunch of wagons on which they
were so stealthily advancmg, until the living
“38' Was complete and any one attempting to
escape would have to pierce the cordon that en-
c1rcled the cam .

And then they halted when the leader, still
crouching low, stole like a tiger still further to-
ward the wagons, stopped and raising his hand
on high, flung a small circular object he carried
into the middle space between the wagons, turn-
ed and hurried back to join his men.

As the object he. had hurled struck the ground
there was a slight explosion like the snapping of
a musket-cap, and instantly there broke out on
the. darkness a bright and vivid light that illu-
minated the. whcle scene, and brought out every
feature of the camp as plainly as if the mid-day
sun blazed high in the heavens overhead.

With the flash came responsive flashes from
the living line of painted warriors, who. outside
the circle of light, were thoroughly protected
from the weapons of those in the camp. and as
the report of the rifles rung out on the still night
air, the holocaust began and human blood com-
menced to flow inside the space formed by the
protecting wagons.

More than one of the brave fellows, who were
thus corraled, attempted to extinguish the flame
which exposed them to the merciless fire of their
enemies, but such deadly fumes arose from the
burning chemicals that it was almost instant
death to venture near them, and choking, half— .
suffocating, the reckless fellows were driven I
back, powerless.

Water thrown on the chemical mixture only
increased the fury'of the fiame,'and at length See-
ing that all efforts to extinguish the fire would
be futile, they abandoned the attempt and look-
ed only to their safety and the defense of the
c

am .

Arlid all the while the leadcn hail was pouring
in on them from all sides. and all the time the
infernal invention in the middle of the camp
blazed brightly, so that. one by one, they fell to

 

be getting ready to attack us.

 

the. earth, dead or seriously wounded. while
their ineffectual fire—with nothing to guide their

slaughter and bloodshed such as the plains too
often witneSsed in the days during which the
incidents narrated in this story occurred, and
imder its warming rays the world wakencd to
il'c.

But the dead lay there motionless, and it
scorned as if all had shared a common fate, when
suddenly there was a movement in one of the
wagons, a head was cautiously lifted, and a
pair of keen eyes peered over the edge of the
side-board, when the owner, havmg (arefully
scanned the horizon and assured himsclf that no
one was in sight, rose. lool-zrd about him for a
moment and then leaped to the ground.

It “as OnesArmed 01], who alone of all those
who had leen so full of life and bore a few
short hours before. remained alii‘e— except Pow-
ell, and he “as a prisoner to men “110 were
merciless.

Accustomed as he had been for years to the
sight of bloodshed and to scenes of border war-
fare, he shuddered, nevertheless, and for a mo-
ment felt sick and faint as he gazed en the
mutilated remains of his former comrades: but
be well knew that this was no time for qualmish-
ness, and [racing himself with an effort, be
turned his attention to getting himself some-
thing to eat and to attending to the wants of the
horses that had not been driven off by the Mor-
mons; they had come on an errand of vengeance
and not one of plunder.

His work w as quickly accomplished, for water
was near at hand, and many of the horses had
either been killed outright by the hail of bullets
poured into the camp or so grievously wounded
that Oll. out of compassion, put an end to their
sufferings. -

And then he began the work of looking over
the bodies—he had before that satisfied himself
that they were beyond human aid—and endeav-
oring to identify them by the weapons they car-
ried. the clothes they were, or the trinkets in
their pockets.

And it was while making this 'search that he
found the money which had so nearly been the
cause of his death. in the inside pocket of one of
the men who had been loudest in his denuncia-
tion, it evidently having lctn stolrn during the
night, the money fakrn, and the belt thrown
aside to \\'li(’l‘0 0]] had frurd iti

011 was acquainted with ihc family histcry of
the man who had leen roll cd. so. carefully
stowmg away the cause of the trcnble in one of
his capricious 1 ockcts, lee detern inr d, at the
first opportunity, to send it to the old mr-iher
who sat by Mr lonely fireside in distant Ken-
tucky, praying for her boy Who would never-
more return to 1 01'.

And new a new difficulty stared him in the
fm-n; hp onulil not leave the bodies of his com-
ranions lving there (n the prairie to be torn,
wrangled over. and devoured by the coyotes and
wolves that would surely gather with the com-

ing night. yet he had no tools with which to dig .

their craves—the wagons being supplied wit
nothing 0f the SO”- But one alternative pre-
sented itself—to save them from leccming the
prey of the wild bee sts he mus; burn the bcdlcs,
and this he determined to do,

Leading the three horses—ti ere were but
three left—ofi? on the plain a half-mile or more

JNA.

     

   
    
  
    
    
  
      
      
     
   
       
     
        

  
 

6

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

 

away from the camp, he picketed them firmly,
and then returned to complete his disagreeable

s r.

Using his single band with the strength of the
veritable giant he was, he wheeled the wagons
close together, removed the wheels, piled
tongues, double-trees, axles, coupling-poles and
beds in one heterogeneous mass, and then, pick-
ing up the bodies one by one, he placed them
carefully on the heap.

A strong breeze was blowing from the west,
and on that side of the pile he started the tire,
using for the purpose a lingo quantity of di ied
grass he collected in a was'i-out nearby, and
soon the dry wood was crackling and blazing
with an intense heat that bid fair to soon con-
sume the entire pyre, while the iron-work on
wheels and other portions of the wagons bent
and curled and twisted like writhing serpents,
while the weapons he had decided he could not
use, and from which he had discharged the loads,
were soon rendered entirely useless by the
flames.

A dense cloud of smoke, blackened by the
fumes from the tar and axle-grease, swept over
the prairie, and hung far in the cast, and Oll,
realizing that he had done all that man could do
to protect the bodies of his companions, and
tearing lest the unwonted sight of the heavy
Smoke might attract the attcntlon of some wan-
dering band of savages, turne l away from the
spot, and was about to I)X'0('L ed in the direction
of the horses, when a couple of moving figures,
appearing suddenly over a rise in the prairie,
turned his thoughts in a new direction.

They were still too far distant for him to be
able to distinguish what they were, and wishing
to establish their identity, he waited, being hid-
den from their view by the fiercely-burning tire,
merely seeing that his Weapons Were ready for
instant service. ,

’He waited for some time, finally being able to
distinguish the features of the new-comers, and
stepping boldly out, as if all need of further con-
cealment were past, he waited.

And certainly the appearance of the stran-
gers was calculated to inspire laughter rather
than fear.

The elder, and therefore the one entitled by
right of courtesy to be first notised, was an
ancient negro, whose gray and grizzled wooll
hair stamped his age indelibly on his hea ,
while his clothes looked as it they had been
brought into the world with hiui and had grown
as he had grown, but had neglected to stop when
he had attained his full stature, for they were a
world too large for him.

Baggy trowsers that had no more shape than
meal sacks; a coat that was simply enormous,
with wide spreading square tails, a. fiamin red
handkerchief about his neck and a rusty 5 ve-
pipe hat, with a pair of No. 12 brogans, com-
pleted his visible, attire, while he carried what
could be seen at a. glance to be a banjo case in
his left hand, an enormous cane in his right,
with the aid of which he hobbled along with
difficulty—for they were unmounted—being ap-
parently very lame.

His companion had nothing particularly no-
ticeable about his attire—by comparison—and
was much younger and more vigorous—looking.
The latter carried a banjo in his hand and was
humming an air while he picked an accompani-
ment on the strings.

Despite hi . late experiences and present lugu-
brious surroundings, 0]] could but smile at the
picture this pair, apparently indifferent to, or
unconscious of. any danger, presented.

And as they came within hailing distance
the old man defied his ancient hat and bowing
low, cried:

“Say, Mistah Ross, has yrr any ’jection ter
my gittin’ a light from yer tiah?”

“ A light fer what?” answered 011.

“Far my pipe. De ole man am purty nigh

3 dead fur a nif,an’ this hyar oncrstlz-ss, wntless

ni gal), hyah, liab (lone 105’ the flint.”
‘All right; come on an’ help yourself,” ac-
quiesced Oil.

And the old man approaching the fire, was
about to draw out a live coal from it, when he
caught sight of a human I'Oot proj-cting and
slowly scorching over the embers, wher, with a
wild yell he sunk on the ground and exclaimed,
while his voice trembled with fear:

“ Zeke, de. white man liab killed anudder au’
am cookin’ liini fur his breakfus’.

“ Don’t kill me an’ eat me, boss! 01’ nigo
gahs am mighty tough 1”

CHAPTER IX.
0 N 'r H E '1' R A I L .
11‘ took 011 some time to convince the fright—
ened negro of the facts in the case, but When

 

peace had finally been restored and the old man
had calmed his nerves, the one-armed giant
asked him regarding his late movements.

. “ We wnz camped wid dc Mormions, boss,”re—
plied Old Eph, “ an’ war trabeliii’ wid Misslvy,
who’s on her way to j’ino her bruddcr.”

“And whar is he?” qrueried the giant, but
little interested in what upli was saying, for he
had begun to wonder what the explanation of
Powell’s disappearance could be.

" In the mountings,” replied Eph. “He done
writ tor Miss Ivy, au’ tol’ her tliet he lied struck
it rich, an’ wanted her to fine him.”

“And she war travelin7 with tlier Mormons,
yer siy,” asked Oll, becoming suddenly in-
tcrcsted as the thought struck him that there
might be some Connection between Miss Ivy and
the young girl who had so mysteriously disap-
peared.

“Yes, sali. But she didn’t know they wuz
Mormions liel'o’ yesterday.”

“ And how come she in the Crowd?”

“ \V’cn she war stoppin’ at the hotel in St.
Louis, she war askin’ ’bout how she c’u’d iin’ a
train goin’ cross the perarie, an’ a man stoppin’
thar tol’ her that a lot 0’ imniergrauts was
about to start an’ thet, of she wanted to she
could j’ine ’cm.”

"f And so she done it.”

“ Yes, boss, au’ me an’ Zeke ’Companied her,
fur, ye see, we hez been in the family fur
since Zeke war horned, an’ young missy kain’t
go nowhar onless ire-’uns is ’long wid her.

“ We ’longs to her, sah.”

“ Au’ who r be she now?”

“ De Lor’ ImOWs! 

“ Yoshi-day sumfin’ cum’ up an’ she ’spected
that the people she Was wid wasn’t no immer~
grant; ’t all, an’ she done asked flat footed,
w’en the top man he tolo her wlot they wuz,
un’ that w’en they got to Utah she was to be
sealed, he said, to him.”

“An‘ then?"

“An’ then she giv’ a sort of a wild screech,
and raved aroun’ an’ tore her lia’r liken she
was shore ’nufl' crazy, an’ soon slip ed off,
w’en they waz all a-eatin’, took the bes critter
in ther herd, an’ rode off.”

“ An’ the others follered her?"

“ Like litenin’.”

“ An’ catched her?"

“Not as we knows: us—me. an’ Zeke—took up
the road as soon as we c’u’d an’ sneaked off after
her, but we hain’t seen nothin’ of her, an’ ’low-
in’ she’s ’scaped the Mormions ’tain’t more’n
likely she got ’way from the lions an’ the tagers
an’ the b‘ars ’bout hyar.

‘2‘"Ye hain’t see’d nuthin’ ob, her, boss,"th

e.

“What fur a-lookin’ gal war she???

“She war mi’ty party—slick an’ slim an’
great big eyes an’ lots 0’ ha’r. Yaller hair that
looked like gol’.”

01] thought that it wau hardly worth while
to explain to the old negro all that had hap-
iened and turned the subject by asking what

ph .roposed doin .

“ s—mo nn’ deke, air goin’ ter foller the
kentry over till we fin’s missy, ain’t us, Zeke?

“Fo’ sho’,” briefly replied the young imp,
who was masticating an unusually tough morsel
of dried meat that he had taken from some
hidden receptacle and crammed into his capa-
cious jaws.

“ You kin go with me,” emphatically said 011
realizing that their roads lay together and that
these two innocent looking darkies might be of
service in some manner as yet unknowu to him.

“ Bully for you, boss,” shouted Zeke, turning
a cart-wheel and Somerset combined, “an’ ef
the Injines bodders us, you kin count on us a.-
runnin ebery time.”

“ Hush yo’ nonsense, boy,” sternly reprimand-
ed tlie old man, fetching the mm a box on the
ear that sent him spinning, “of the Injines sees
ylou.”they’ll take yer and skelp yo’ woolly head
s 1o .

At this dire picture of the physical torture to
which he was to be subjected, the youth set up a.
lugubrious howl that sounded far over the
prairie like the. wail of a. coyote, and Would
have kept it up indefinitely had not Oll brought
sulden silence by steriin reprimanding him.

“ Air you armed?” asked the giant, as he be-
gun to regret the destruction of the weapons he
had placed on the fire, even though be doubted
the ability of the negroes to use them.

For answer. the boy Zeke stooped and drew
from his bootleg an enormous razor, with vicious—
1y keen edge and white handle.

“ Da’. boss, am de phizzick fur obnoxious nig-
gers, an’ w'ot am nhizzick fur bad niggers am
phizzick fur bad w’ite men, shuab.”

“Well,” replied 01], grinning despite himself

 

‘ and his surroundings, “put up your ‘phizzick’

until it is needed, and then give it to ’em,
strong.” .

“ All right, boss,” answered the imp, putting
his razor up.

“And now We’ll start on the trail,” continued
0]]. “ An’ cf we hez 011’s ordinary luck, we’ll
soon overhaul tlier doctor an’ tlrcr girl.”

“Bully fer you, boss,” chuckled ()ld Eph,
“ Hooray for Miss Ivy ."n’ the Mormioiisl”

And the three, picking up their traps and
casting a last look about to see if they were fol-
lowed, started oil' over the prairie, following
the broad, well-defined trail left by the Mor—
mons when they had started for camp, with
Frank Powell as their prisoner. 1

CHAPTER X.
A BROKEN OATH.

“ YES, I can save the girl, and restore her to
her right mind.”

“ Then why do you hesitate?”

“Because I am not yet certain Whether it.
would not be bestto leave her with clouded
reason, than to cure her and give her up to the
terrible into that awaits her.”

“ Terrible fate: I do not exactly understand
what on mean.”

“ W hat fate could be more terrible than for
her to be married—‘sealed,’ you call it—to a.
Mormon?”

“Curb your tongue, Doctor Frank Powell,
or I may find it'necessary to curb it for you——
a. word to the wise is, or should Le, sufilcient.”

“ I will no more curb my tongue than I curb.
my thoughts, those you cannot restrain. But
all this time that poor child is lying there-
unconscious and I owe it to her to be silent.

“ Should I cure her, will you promise me one.
thin ?”

“ t me hear what it is, first.”

“You seem to take a great interest in her——
love her perhaps, and would marry her your-
self, if you could. If I cure her, will you allow
her to go free?”

“ And you?”

“You may do with me as you like, when I
return.”

“ Returnl Again I must confess—”

“ When she is well, I will take her and return
with her to the East—to her home—leave her
in the care of her friends and then come back to

u.

h: and what security have I that you will do-
t 's? ’

“M word! No one can say that Frank
Powe ever broke it."

“1 accept, but no one must know Of this——
perform your duties quietly and secretly, cure-
the girl and leave us, taking her with you. I
will tell the chief of her accident, but will re—
main quiet as to the sequel, and he will think
that I allowed her to go because of her infirm—
ity. As for yourself, every one here knows you,
and you will get me into serious troubleif you.
brea your word—which I accept.”

“And I accept your ITOposition rovided you
swear to me that we W) be allowed) to departin
peace."

“Iswear it to you by the love I bear my
sister!”

“ Your sister—who?”

“That unconscious girl calls me brother——
when she knows me.”

“And you would sell her to your Mormon
chief?"

“ No! Never! You do not know the laws, the.
iron laws, that bind us. I am but a tool, an in-
strument, that he uses as he sees fit. I See but
one way of escape for my sister, and that is for
you to cure her and escape with her.

“ It would be useless, in her present helpless
condition, to attempt to fly now; cure here
first—escape afterward.”

It was Clarcn, the leader of the Mormon
band that held Powell as prisoner. With “‘lLOm
the doctor was talking as they Nae “Own the
incline that slowed to the, valley where the main
band was camped, and the revelation that this-
man was ivy’s brothrr gave POWell new hope
that he might be able to free the girl from the
toils that surrounded her.

So they rode into camp in silence, the compact
between them being fully understood, when, in
the absence of VVclkcr, the Mormon leader ,
Claren took charge of details and assigned
Powell to a tent where. under a strong guard,
he (“,9 allowed to take some much needed rest,
until late in the day.

Ivy was taken to the center of the camp and
made comfortable. and when Powell ( ante to
where she was in the care of some of the women,

assing as he did so his horse, Black Ben, who
had been taken by Welker and turned over to,

 

T-; 3“.“

 

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

 

 

him, as no one else could ride him, the girl still
la unconscious and in a. death-like stupor.

Powell had his instruments in his saddle-bags
and had taken them with him, so, after giving
a few terse directions, he began the operation,
which lasted but al’cw moments. lifting up a
small piece of the hem of the sl-:ull, where it
rested on the brain and firmly securingitin
place by strips of adhesive plaster.

As the morscl of bone was raised, Ivy gave a
deep sigh, opened her eyes, gazed at Powell an
instant, with a look of searching inquiry, looked
about her for a moment and than, realizing as
if by magic licr mrroundings, again sighed and
turned away, nestled her hurt on her hand and
sunk into a deep, calm, drcaiiiless slumber that
promised to last for hours, while Powell, turn-
ing to Clarcn, said in a low voice:

“The operation was successful, and by to-
morrow or next day she will be in condition to
travel.”

“Then to-morrow, or next day, you will be
free to go with her wherever you will, pr0vided
you return.” _

“ I will rcturnl” rephcd Powell, firmly, as he
turned away and went back to his tour, where
he replaced his instruments in their case, and
then walked to where Black Ben was tethered
nearby, and spoke a few caresaing words to
him, the noble animal rubbing his muzzle affec-
tionately against his arm and neighing joy--
fully.

But, as if in echo to the neigh came an an-
swering one from oil’ on the prairie, and look-
ing, Powell saw the remainder of the Mormons,
who had stayed to wreak their vengeance on
the camp, riding toward them, and Clarcn rid-
ing out to report to W'élkcr.

He watched them for a time, saw their greet-
ing, saw Claren talk earnestly to IVelkcr for a
few moments, heard a shout of boisterous laugh-
ter, and then, with a sense of impending evil,
turned to his tent again, re—entcred it and, seat-
ingihimself, was soon buried deep in thought.

e was roused from his meditations soon after
by a summons from outside, and lookin up,
saw Welker and Claren standing there. 6 in—
vited them towalk in and beseatcd, which in-
vitation they accepted when Welker spoke.

“Clarcn tells me that you have successfully

rated on Miss Carter’s hurt.”

Powell started and looked at Claren, who
was smiling maliciously.

“So this, then. is the way you keep your
oath ” said Powell quietly.

“ 21! ha!” laughed Claren. “ So you really
believed that little romance about my dear
sister] It was merely invented to induce you,
my dear doctor, to exercise your skill, and
contained not one word of truth.”

“ But your oath to m ‘,” insisted Powell, half-
riaing, and his face becoming set and stern
with anger.

“ I swore by a fictitious person. so the oath
does not exist," laughed Clarcn.

There was a crash and a yell of pain. and
Claren, struck fair between the eyes by a
crashing blow, fairly flew out of the. tent and
went rolling Over the ground as if shot out of
a catapult.

And drawing himself up to his full higbt,
Powell, pointing his finger at Welker, said in
a scoriiful voicc:

“ Leave my tent, and thank your good for.
tune that I spare you l“

And Walker, rzsmg, slunk out of the tent,
flinging like a. whipped hound, leaving the
Magic Doctor master of the situation.

CHAPTER XI.
A KENTUCKY TARGET.

THE Mormons did not move for several days,
but, their camping gI‘OImd being an excellent
one, with an abundance of wood and water
and fine grass for the horses, lingered before
starting across the stretch of and land that
lay between where they then were and the
mountains.

During these days Powell went and came as
he pleased, exchanging Words With no one but
the necessary phrases incidental to the care of
lvy, who was rapidly grownig well and strong‘
and who, by dint of persistent questioning, had
learned all that had happened during the time
that elapsed between her fall midthe moment
when she realized consciousness in the Mor-
mon camp.

Brave girl that she was, she had not yet
abandoned her intention of escaping from the
clutches of the Mormons at the first 0}) Nu-

 

nitYa Hilda realiZing that in Powell she. ad a

firm, reliable friend who feared no fee, would

shrink from no danger, she felt for the present
. at rest and content to wait.

 

Their conversations were continually inter-
rupth by the various spies set to watch their
actions, and they could make no plans looking
to their escape until the doctor managed to slip
into her hands, unperceivexl, a note, suggesting
that they had better wait until they reached the
mountains before making any attempt, as on the
open plains they would crrtainly be recaptured
while she would find it difficult to subsist where
he could easily live.

And the next time he saw hcr she handed him
an answer which, after returning to his tent, he
read hurriedly.

It was thus worded:

” Your ideas are correct. But if you can getaway
from this place, an i can reach the, mountains, [can
suggest a way out if our trouble. At ’ Way-up (‘amp
I have a brother. who owns a mine there and \vholtas
a number of men W()l king for him, who are devoted
to him. and will ‘ fight to the death,’ as he puts it, for
him. If you can reach the camp, my brother. Frank
Ca ter, would be able to raise iiien enough io wipe
out this band and set me free. What do you think
of this? We pass near ‘Way-up, when we cross the
mountains.”

“Brave girl,” murmured Powell. “ If her
brother has but a small portion of her nerve, the
rest will be easy.

“ And now to lay my plans so as to lull suspi-
cion. and make it easier to escape.”

So rising, after tearing Ivy’s note into minute
fragments, Powell saunteer out toward the
spot where the ring of rifles notified him that
the Mormons Wi’ re engaged in their almost daily
practice of shooting at a mark.

As Powell approached, Wclkcr. Who seemed
to wish to be an amicable terms with his pris-
oner, turned to him and said:

“ Doctor, we are trying our ikill at yonder
mark; will you not join usand taken. hand in
the shoot?”

“ Why not?” reylied Powell, carelessly, “pro
vided I can have my own weapon.”

“That of course. We are all using arms we
are familiar with and don’t wish to handicap
you. Here is your rifle, and a good one it is,
too, I should say, judging from what I have
been able to accomplish with it.”

Powell took the weapon with a feeling as if he
had met an old friend, picked up a cleaning-rod
that rested against a wagon near b , and care—
fully wiped out his gun, and then oaded from
the horn and bullet-pouch that were handed
hi .

in.

“ What is the mark?” be asked, as he turned
to Welker who still stood near.

“ That ramrod stuck in the ground a hundred
paces off yonder.”

“ It seems a pity to spoil a good ramrod,” con-

tinued Powell, as he glanced in the direction
indicated.
_ “ Well, it is necessary to hit it before spoiling
it,” laughed VVelker, “and although we have
made some pretty good shots, as you can see by
the barrel behind it, none of us has yet been
able to splinter the ramrod.

“ Do. you think you can?”

“It isa pity, as I said before tospoil it. Wait
and I will suggest a better mar .”

Handing his rifle to Welker, Powell, icking
up the cleaningrod he had just used, w ked 01!
toward the target. followed by two or three of
the shooters, interested in what he was about to
do, among Whom was Claren whose bandaged
head added considerably to his natural repug-
nance.

“ I don’t want no trouble with you, Doc,” he
said. as the, paced over the green sward, ‘ an’
know that was wrong t’othcr day. But all is
fair, ye know, in war, an’ we u‘ar ag’in’ each
other.”

And he laughed as though he labored under
the impression that he had made an excellent

un.
p “ All right,” answered Powell, persisting in
his attempt to lull suspicion by remaining on
friendly terms with every one. “Let bygzinpg
be bygones, and we will say no more about our
trouble.”

“All right, Doc. I’m willin’.”

By this time they had reached the barrel,
where Powell. taking the cleaning-rod he had
brought with him. stuck it in the ground along-
side the ranirod that had served as a mark, and
half an inch from it, securing the two at the top
by tying a small piece of wood across from one
to the other.

Then taking a bullet from his pouch, he cut a
crease around it and tied a piece of thread about
the bullet.

The crowd watched him intently, and when
he stooped over and tied the other end of the
string to the cross-piece, exclamations arose on
everyvside. '

“ hat are you going to do?” asked Claren,

 

unable any longer to restrain his curiosity as he
watched the proceedings.
“ Wait and see,” replied the doctor, as he fin-

ished attaching the bullet so that it hung be— ‘

tween the upright ramrod and cleaning-rod,and
about three inches below the cross-piece.

Then, leaving the bullet danglin
ell. turning to Welker, who just 1 en came up,
said:

“There! That’s the sort of mark we used to
shoot at back in Kentucky. Do you think you
can hit it?”

“ What‘s the idea? To bit the bullet from
back yonder? You must be crazyl A man
couldn’t see it, let alone hitting it.”

“ No, I don’t want you to hit the bullet.”

“ What then?”

“ To cut the string between bullet and cross-
piece, and let the bullet drop down between the
two sticks!”

A shout of derision went up at these words,
while Powell, quiet, smiling, cahn and confident,
looked about him.

“ Well," said Claren, “ of all the fool pro 1'-
sitions I ever heerd of, that is the fooli~hest.’

“ You think so,” returned Powell, still smiling.
“ Then, Mr. Claren, I will prove to you that. you
are mistaken.”

And turning, he walked back to the score,
while the news having spread through the camp
of the wonderful feat their prisoner was about
to attempt, the Mormons came hurrying from
every direction.

CHAPTER XII.
WON!

THERE was considerable of a crowd gathered
about Powell ten minutes after he had made his
startling proposition. and more than one of the

men walked to the mark, eyed it critically, and ’

paced the distance between target and score
carefully.

“ A hundred even paces,” remarked one of the
men, after he had satisfied himself by several
trials that the distance was correct.

“And the man that can hit that mark—can
cut that string—from here, can win all the money
that I have got in the world or ever expect to
have.”

“ You‘re shouting now, Jake,” chimed in one
of the bystanders. ‘ an’ I say the same thing.

“ Tell ye what I’ll do, Doc,” he continued con-
fidential y:

“ I’ll bet ye ten to one that you can’t do it in

fifty shots, an’ if ye want to, I'll give you a. ,

hundred trials.”

“ An’ I’ll bet,” chipped in another tough-100b-
ing specimen “ that it’s all a great big blufle.l
and thet the Magic Doctor can' hit ther barr
thet sets behind the mark.”

At this sarcasm there was another yell from

the crowd, but Powell stood as imperturbable as .

ever, leaning on his rifle and surveying the
crowd of excited men with a pitying smile.

At length, as the jcers continued, he spoke:

“ I never wager money on what I am about to
attempt,” he said, “ and l have no need of your
dollars, so let us so no more about betting.”

“ Tliet's right, 0c, weaken, crawfish, turn
tail an’ run 1” yelled the bully of the crowd.
“Never back your opinion at yer ain't sure 0’
winnin’.”

Climtemptuously the doctor turned to him and

e.

spo .

“I said that I never wagered money on the
result of anything that I am going to do, but to
show you how much I am in earnest I’ll make
this little affair interesting.

“ Here is my watch,” and lie drew from his
pocket a magnificent five thousand—dollar (bro-
nometcr tlzat liad bein PHE‘CnlCd to him l-y a
millionaire citizen of St. Louis, “hose life he
had saved by awcndcri'ul surgical oreration,
after all surgeons had abandoned the case in
despair.

“ I will hang this watch below yonder bullet
with a second string, and then Shoot. lfI fail
to cut the string my watch is yours, my doubt-
ing friend, and if I drive the bullet through the
watch the loss is mine.

“ I take rll the risk. and you none.

“New, will you shut up, at Last until the
trial takes place?”

And without waiting for an answer, he walk-
ed back to the target. hung his watch just below
the bullet, and rested the latter in the ring to
which the chain was attached.

And then returning, he said:

“ The string will be out without disturbing
the bullet, and. after I have fired, you will find
the bullet resting in the ring and the cord
sever .
“If you do that you’re ould Hawkeye him-

there, Pow- .

 

    

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

  
 

self,” muttered some admirer of Cooper’s novels,
who seemed intensely interested.

"Worse than him,” added another literary

Vagabond.

‘ Leatherstocking never attempted such a
,ioat, and as the doctor has such nerve, I hope
1 e won’t smash his watch. It is dollars to cents
'that he won’t come anywhere near the mark,
though.”

Frank Powell seemed to be so perfectly con-
l ‘ fident, had so little of the bluster of the “ bluf-
fer" about him, was so well known on the
' lains, that a few of the spectators began to be
imbued with a belief in his skill, and ventured
small bets on the result, asking and receiving
. tremendous odds.

-‘ ' And soon the excitement reached such a pitch

' that every one in the crowd, except Powell,

gas at fever—heat, and bets were made on every
do.

Money, clothes, horScs, weapons, watches,
jewelry, everything possessing any value what-
ever, wae recklessly staked for or against
Powell’s winning, while numerous voices on—
treated him from time to time to defer the trial
until all bets had been booked.

An epidemic of gambling seemed to have
struck the camp, and men ran hither and thither
in every direction, collecting whatever of value
the possessed, until there remained scarcely a
. do r’s worth of personal property in the camp
5 . unstaked on the result.

" - "And now Powell, realizing that this was to be
a supreme test and that, win or lose, he was
bound to make some bitter enemies, drew the
charge he had laced in his rifle, cleaned it as
carefully as if iis life depended on the shot and
then picked up the powder-horn that lay at his
cot.
' Carefully he measured out the charge, grain
by grain, carefully he poured it into too brown
1 barrel, and then, opening his pouch he took out
5"" his bullets and examined them scrupulously, dis-
, ‘f' carding them, one by one, until he found one
3 that was perfectly round and free from flaw or
‘ roughness.
And finally he selected a greased patch, laid it
across the muzzle, placed the bullet thereon, and
* I raising the ramrod was about to ram home,
v r when alight touch was laid on his arm and a
_ 1 soft voice said:
“ Doctor, use this for a patch; it may bring
you luck.”
_ , And turning he saw his fair patient standing
‘ there, holding a delicate piece of material that
' 1 she had torn from the scarf about her n:~ck.
°' And taking it with a low bow, Powell fitted it
;. over the bullet and rammed the morsel of had
i ' firmly home.
' 1 Then cocking and capping his Weapon he
- stepped to the mark, looked about him, and as a
I," . dee silence fell on all he raised the weapon,
whfie all eyes were bent on the mark.

Slowly the rifle rose until it stood straight out
from his shoulder, stopped, and wavering no more
’ than the Rock of Gibraltar, man and) weapon
 . seemed as if carved out of marble, so still were
:3“; . the .

 ! Aysectmd’s pause, and then the flame leaped
f" ‘ ' from the barrel, the report rung out, an in
' -' ' echo came a cheer that fairly rent the air.

a The bullet had sped true, the cord had been
' ;' ‘ er“, and resting in the ring of the watch lay the
“f, rglased piece of lead that a moment before
' - hu'ig dangling.

'4 Frank Powell had made good his boast!

‘  CHAPTER XIII.
u ; ' ARRIVALS.
5“ 7 Tim turmoil and confusion that followed the
 A result of the shot would have put to blush a

 

\7 crowd of toughs wrangling over a dog-fight,
: . and in many instances di putants came to blows
 . ov‘r their wagers.
 ' l"ut at last uiit was restored and the winners
 ' exultant, the osers sullen, the crowd gathered
about Powell and beggcl him to give them some
further exhibitions of his skill, although there
was not a man present who dared pit himself
. 1’ af‘a inst the Magic Doctor.

73",; But Powell declined to ., atify the aroused
 curiosity of the crowd, am after securing his
: ,1 watch, sat down beside I vy Carter. and watched

'5' ‘ with an amused smile the matches that then
' took place between some of the various miners,
the stakes being small, but as much feeling being
shewn as it the wagers amounted to thousands
of dollars.

“ If they keep on wrangling,” said Frank to
. “ his fair companion, “ I am in hopes that the af-
‘ v .\ fair will result as did the famous one between
‘ 9 ' the Kilkenny cats.” g

“ And what was that, doctor?” asked Ivy,
languidly, yet with a faint smile as she endeavor-

 

 

 

ed to appear interested in the doctor’s eflforts to
arouse her from her despondeney.

“ The cats fought—two of them—until there
was not the slightest trace left of either of the
combo tan ts. ”

“And you he —”

“I can’t say Ixhope; but I do wish that that
crowd of slave-dealers would get to fighting and
wipe each other completely out, so that there
would not be one of them left to tell the tale.

“ But there is no hope of that, I fear, and We
must bide our time as patiently as we can.”

“ Yes; and I pray, night and day, that the
time m:y soon come.”

“ Patience yet a little while, Miss Ivy, and re-
member the old proverb: Everything comes to
those who wait.’

“I have much confidence, doctor, since you
came to my rescue, and more faith in the future
than I have had for many weary days.”

“ Thanks for your trust, and belicvo me when I
say that all will yet come out as you would
wish.”

‘“ But what is that noise?” he contTnued as the
crowd for a moment became silent as it whtchcd
a particularly decisive shot that one of the
competitors in a close match was about to
attempt.

“ I hear nothing unusual.”

“ Listen! It sounds as if some one were play-
ing a banjo out on the prairie behind that
rise.”

“True, I hear it now. \Vhat can it mean? for
it is the first tune I have heard any music about
the camp.”

“ I wdl walk in that direction and see, if you
feel strong enough to accompany me.”

“ Certainly, if we do not go far.”

So, rising, they wandered away, nobody ap-
parently paying any particular attention to them,
although it was evident that more than one
watchful eye was upon him.

But the Mormons feared no attempt at escape,
out on the prairie as they were, with no chance
to avoid the pursuit that would instantly be made
if t 0 prisonch attempted to flee.

As they reached the brow of the roll in the
plain, the both stopped with an exclamation of
surprise, or the same tableau met their eyes that
had greeted One-Armed 011 a few days before.

Eph and Zeke were the figures in the tableau,
and it was the latter who was reducing the not
inharmonious sounds that he struck Powell’s
quick car without attracting the attention of the
Mormons.

At the sight of Powell and Miss Carter the older
negro motioned to Zeke to stop his strumming,
but with his “ eyes in fine f rcnzy rolling” the

oungster was so wrapped up in his music that
he saw nothing but hfsiingers, heard nothing but
the sounds from his instrument.

And Old Eph got mad.

Fetching the industrious young musician a clip
on the car that sent him rolling over and over
half a dozen yards away, the old man muttered:

“ Stop dar, Zeke, I tole you. Unless you ceases
dat pestifcrous music, I done tole Miss Ivy not
ter speak tcr ycr, an’ dat’ll fix you, shore!”

Rubbing his head, yet grinning with delight
at the sight of Miss Carter, Zeke picked himself
up, and still holding on to his banjo with one
hand executed several cart-wheels and tumbles
that would not have disgraced a professional
athlete, and then came bounding up the hill to—
ward Powell and the young lady, while Eph call-
ed after him in vain.

“ Oh, Miss Ivy, ’deed an’ I’se glad to see you,
safe an’ soun’ once more,” shouted the boy, wild
With deli glit, as he threw himself at her feet and
fairly kis :cd the hem of her dress in the exuber-
ance of his jo".

“ An’ so is l, young miSsie,” added Old Eph,
wheezingly, hurrying up csfast as his rheumatic
limbs would permit, and grasping the hand that
Miss Carter held out to him.

“ Where did you come from i” asked Powell
recognizing the two from What the girl had told
him of them, “and how comes it that you are
strumming around the camp like a pair of wan—
dering minstrcls?”

“ Oh, we plays fur to be shuah (lat no one
ain’t goin’ tor shoot us,” explained the old man,
apologeticnlly, “ f or when dcy heers de muSIC
doy know dat our ’tentions am peaceable an’
’onos’.”

“ A sort of a flag of truce, I see,” said P0well,
smiling. .

“ But where do you come from and how did
you find the camp?”

“ We has been trailin’ you fer some time, an’
Massa Oll done sent us to see you an’ ’splain.”

“ 011? tho is he? and what is there to ex-
plain?”

“ Nessa Oll am do one-arm man you donesave

 

from bein’ hung, an’ be sent us here tcr tell you
dat he am on de lookout and trabeiiu’ roun’.

“ W’en ou moves, he air gwine ier move an’
try an’ be p you ’scapc.”

“ A good friend he will be when need comes.

“But as you have not been seen by any of the
Mormons, go and come into the camp on the
other side.

“ Say nothingto me, and when the time comes
I Will give you a message to carry to 011.”

_ “ All right, boss. Good-by, misty, we’ll be
jest as surprised to see you later on as ef we
hadn’t seen yer in a hull week.”

And as the negroes rctrnced their steps, Pow-
ell and Ivy Carter turned and went back to the
shooting-ground, where their short absence had
created no comment whatever. '

As for the negroes, they had not even been
seen by any of the Mormons.

CHAPTER XIV.
A CHALLENGE.

LATE that night Powell and the two negroes
might have been found in earnest C(mVi rsation,
and the purport of it seemed decidedly interest-
ing, judging from the way their heads were close
together, and from their earnest tones, pitched
so low that no passer—by could have distinguished
one word from another.

Finally the trio separated, their plans all ar‘
ranged, and the camp sunk to slumber, guarded
by the sentinels, who stood like statues at inter—
vow]? or paced slowly to and fro.
for during the evening news had been spread
about the camp of a race between some of the
crack steeds that Vi ere owned by different mem-
bers of the band.

Eph and Zeke came wandering up to where a
party of men were discus: irg the preliminaries
'of the race, and much was the surprise shown
by all, many were the exclamations that arose
on every side.

“ Where did you niggers come from?” asked
Welker, stepping out from the crowd.

“We thought that you were dead, and eaten
by the coyotes, sure.”

“Oh, no, boss,” answered Zeke, bobbing his
woolly head. “ We don’t pit los’ so easy. We
done got strayed, and had some trouble iindin’
you 1,1,1], but Eph, here, got on de trail, an’ here
us 12.

“ Well, tumble about, and help get break-
fast.

“ Any one who sails with our fleet of prairie
schoozxcrs, must work his passage, or go ever-
heard.”

“ All right, boss. We kain’t swim, and doesn’t
want to drown, does us, Zeke?” and the old man
showed every one of his glistening white teeth
as he threw back his head and reared with
laughter.

“ Deed we doesn’t, an’ I understan’s that
there is inos’ as many sharks 0n lan’ as in the
sea, an’ they'd nip a leg ol'fcn a young,r nigger
like me quicker‘n wink,” and Zeke joined in_the
laugh that followed as if he really enjoyed the
i ca.

The old man and the boy were thoroughly
versed in the culinary art. and the appetizing
odor from the frying antelope steaks, and cuts
from juicy round of buffalo soon filled the air
and whetted to a yet koencr edge the appetites
of those who (lid not know what it was to be
without an appetite.

“Doctor,” said Wclker, when they were seat-
ed around the apgx‘tizing board. “ I think that
horse of yours Ought to Le a runner—how is
i 7

“ \Vell,” rcplicd Powell, his mouth full of
juicy steak, in as indifferent a tone as he could
command, for everything was turninir 0m? Pl‘e‘
cisely as he would have wished, “ well, he can
run a little, and I doubt if his equal can be
found in your whole herd."

“ Maybe no, and maybe yes,” returned
Wclkcr. “My horse, Blaze, with my MLMGI‘
vin, Jr., on his back, is thought to be about.the
best piece of horseflesh in the camp, and I think
he can beat your nag at a distance of a mile, or
even two—or make it four, if you wish—for any-
thing you care to name.”

“ My remark of yesterday as to never wager-
ing money on any result Still holds,” answered
Powell, “ but y0'2’ve got a pretty decent sort of
a horse there, and I shouldn’t mind owning him;
so I’ll tell you what I’ll do, Mr. VVellier.

“ i‘ll let young Zeke here ride my horse against
yours—distance. four miles—winner to take the
loser’s horse. ' How does that proposition strike

on?” ’

y Before Welker Could answer, Claren spoke

u :
p“ You’re dead sure ter win, Merv, Yer boy’s

ith the morning came bustle and confusion, '

.- .N-g—s’.

    

l
l
I
l

   

‘4')

ll

Powell’s Pard.

 

 

a wonder at ridin‘, an’ thar hain’t no hoss this
.side 0’ Kentuck thet kin beat yourn. Ef ye
don’t make the race ye’r’ a derned fool, fer ye’r’
.sho’ ter win, an’ ther Doc’s hoss air a-wu’th
hevm’.”

Whatever doubt still lingered in Welkin’s
mind was dispelled by Claren’s words for the
former had implicit confidence in his subordi-
nate whenever a question of this sort arose, and
so, without any further comment, he rose from
the table, looked around for his boy, and calling
him, turned to the doctor as he reseated himself,
and said:

“ It’s a race, doctor.”

His son appeared in a few minutes, and im-
mediately, in response so a word from his father,
ghil'ew off his coat and prepared to weigh against

e (e.

“ We don’t want any advantage on either side,
doctor,” said \Velker, “ and we’ make the boys
ride even.”

Nothing could be fairer than this proposition,
and Zeke was called, when, a rude scale being
improvised, the white boy was found to out-
Weigh Zeke by five or six pounds, and it was
agreed that Zeke should be weighted with that
amount of lead.

And then came the question of the track—the
most important of all; but this was quickly
solved by the volunteering of a member
of the party to stake out a mile.
course, he bein a practical surveyor,
and having his t eodolite and c haiii with
him, yet as this was a work which would
take some little time to perform, by mutual con—
sent it was agreed to pestpone the trial of speed
for two days, in order to allow the surveyor am-
ple time to complete his labors. Old Eph, in re-

.sponseto a look of interrogation from Powell,

when the suggestion was made, nodde 1 his head
mysteriously and vigorously, yet in a manner

that seemed perfectly satisfactory to his mute~

questioner.

Having finished his breakfast, and having
been put on parole for three days by Welker
that he would not attempt tocsca e, Powell,
followed by Old Epn and young Ze e, hurried
over to the place where his horse was tethered,
taking saddle and bridle and blanket with him.

“Can that boy ride. Eph? You told me he
could, but are you sure he can ride for a man’s
life, for a girl’s honor, for his own safety?”

“Dat boy, Massa Frank, kin ride an t’ing
dat’s got hide or ha’r. Dat young nig a wuz
riz on a farm an’ useter ride fore’n ec’uld
walk. Oh, yes, Massa P0well, he kin ride, don’t
you fear.” _

“ How is it, Zeke, do you think you can man-
age Black Ben?”

“Kin I? Look hyar, Massa Frank, you jes’
go’n’ ast Missy Ivy ef I kin ride.”

“ By George I will,” cried P0well, “ for if this
scheme fails I do not know what we are to do
next. I will ask her, for while I do not doubt
your word, Zeke, nor yourS, Elm. this is too
important a matter to take any chances on.
You wait here, and I will soon come back.”

And leaving the two negroes, he. hurried away
to where Miss Carter was standing alone, and
evidently expecting him.

CHAPTER XV.
PREPARATIONS.

THE conversation with Ivy seemed to have
been entirely satisfactory for Powell soon re—
turned and_calling out to the younger of the two
Degrees, said: _

“ You are to hem)? JOCkey, Zeke, and Miss
Carter has sent YOU :1 sash to wear as her
colors.” , ,

This was said loudly in View of the fact that
by this time quite a crowd of men had gathered
about the two iich'OeS, {01‘ 11? W95 generally un-
derstood that Powell was {550ng to give his
horse a practice gallop and that Zeke was
going to essay his new mount for. the first time,

Black Ben, with a. superb disdain. had paid no
attention to the throng that athered about
him, but continued methodical .V cropping the
succulent grass until Powell’s clear veice rung
out on the air, when the horse, recognizin
his master’s tones at once, raised his hea ,
looked in the direction of the place where
Powell stood and whinnied delightedly.

“ A fine h )rse, that,” Mister owell. remarked
more than one of the crowd. as Frank stood by
the animal, which raised its head and laid its
muzzle caressingly on its master’s shoulder, en-
joyin the touch and voice that it know so well.

“ es, an’ he’s like a brother to me,” said the
doctor. “and no one else has ever ridden him.

“I don’t know, Zeke, whether he’ll let you
ride him or not.”

“Reckon he’ll have ter, boss,” grinned the

I

 

imp, as he busied himself about saddle-cinch
and bridle.

“Well, we’ll see,” said Powell, and, taking
the boy by the ankle, he lifted him easily and
readily into the saddle.

“Now, ride him off over the prairie for a
quarter of a mile or so at a slow trot, to warm
him up, and gradually increase your speed until
you let him do his best—” and then in an under-
tone he added, “Don’t urge him; he will go
fast enough to make these fellows think he is
doing his best, but he won’t stretch himself un-
til he hears me yell.”

“ All right, boss,” replied the jockey, and giv—
ing a clock of the most a proved style, he
loosened the rein and Black en walked oil? in
a stately manner, the crowd shouting with
laughter at tho ludicrous position assumed
by the boy, it being the reverse of the firm
seat and confident attitude of the professional
jockey.

And seeing how awkward the lad was,
Powell’s face clouded slightly, for his horse was
at stake and in a close race victory depends as
much on the rider as on the horse.

But it was too late to back down now, for
it was understood that either party declining
to race would forfeit the stakes and even if
Zeke were a miserable rider the effort must be
made, as Powell would not relinquish his horse
without a struggle.

But at this moment’Eph sidled up to him,
and under cover of the attention that every-
one was paying to Zeke whispered a few words
to the Magic Doctor t at appeared to relieve
hini immensely, for his face cleared up and,
stepping forward he gave a low, melodious
whisper at the sound of which Black Ben
pritt‘kcd up his ears and moved oil at a rapid
tro .

And now his rider became more grotesque
than ever, for arms and le rs flew wildly about,
his cap, tattered to rags, fe l to the ground and
the boy bobbed up and down in his seat like a
wagon on a corduroy road and the faster the
horse moved the more the lad seemed uncom-
fortable and ill-at—ease.

“Air thet nigger a-goin’ ter ride yer ani-

ile Doc?” asked one of the onlookers.

“ am afraid he is,” replied Powell. “It is
the agreement and I can not change my rider
without forfeiting the race, though if I had
known what a botch Zeke was oing to make of
it, I think I would have rid en the race my-
self, heavy as I am. But it is too late to object
now, and the matter ’11 have to stand as it is.”

“Then I’ll bet yer thet Merv. Welker’s boss
beats your critter clean out in ther race ter—
morrer.”

“Ye’re safe bettin’ thet. Chris,” chimed in
another of the bystanders, “fur it’s dollars ter
gimlet-holcs thet Welker’s animile ‘11 leave thet
gritltei; avstandin’ still, ’ith ther nigger on his

ac '.

“It air fifty to one on ther bay.”

“’Scuse me, gemmens; ain de ‘bay’ Massa
Welker’s hossi”

And Old Eph, hat in hand, stood bowing
alongside the last speaker, humility expressed in
ever move.

“ as!” snarled the man addressed. “But
w’ot dif’rents kin it make to you?”

“ Nuthin’, gemmers, nuthin’. But ef you is
a-willin’ ter bet w1f an ole niggah w’ot’s got a
leetle money sav¢id up—an’ Massa Powell hyar
kin hol’ de stakes—I‘se de man ’11 bet twenty
dollars on de black hoss ag’in’ fifty times dat on
de bay.”

A thousand dollars risked to win twenty
seemed too much odds when the time came for
putting the mono} up; but the former speaker
offered to wager a hundred dollars to twenty,
and this bet the old negro accepted with alacrity
as he did four others. making one hundred dol-
lars he had bet, on which, in the event of black
Ben’s winning, he stood to win five hundred—
Frank Powell holding the Stakes and seeing
that no attempt was made to defraud the old
man.

This action on Eph’s part convinced Pewell
more strongly than anything else could that
what the old darky had said about Zeke as a
rider was true, and that he had nothing to fear
from his rider.

And he began to realize that there had been
some understanding of the sort between the two
negroes, for at this moment Zeke came up at a
sharp run, and Old Eph stepping forward and
wavmg his hat, the boy’s attitude changed as if
by magic; be straightened himself up. his feet
fitted themselves to the stirrups as if they had
grown there, and his whole attitude bespOke the
thorough rider and professional jockey.

And the horse seemed to realize that the rider

 

was familiar with his business, for without any
urging be bounded off at increased speed, and
with a stride and action that caused some of his
late detractors to shake their heads dubiously
and determine to “ hedge,” while one of the men
expressed his opinion frankly and loudly.

“ Ther young nigger hez been foolin’ an’ pur-
tendin’ 92 how he didn’t know how ter ride!
Look how he lif’s ther boss. Gosh-a-mi’tyi I’m
blamed ef I don’ think thet Merv. ’ll hev ter
make his critter crawl ter keep ahead 0’ thet
one!

“ But I be still a—bettin’ on ther bay, an’ ain’t
a—goin’ ter weakin yit.”

And he strolled away, full of boasts and brag-
gadocio, until out of hearing of the group, when
he hastened to a distant part of the camp and
proceeded to hedge with cautious diligence and
due secrecy.

After giving him a good breathing, Zeke rode
Black Ben into the cam ), where he was rubbed
down and carefully blanketed by the two
negroes, who grinned as they confessed to Pow-
ell that it was all a put-up job, and trat it was
for the purpose of getting bets that Zeke had
pretended awkwardness.

And the next day the horse was given another
run and again carefully groomed, and when
night came it was understood that the two
negroes should watch alternately.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
A STRATEGICAL RACE.

THE night passed quietly, owing, in all pro-
bability, to the careful watch kept by the two
negroes for once or twice a stealthy figure
came gliding toward them through the gloom,
but was halted by a waming from one of the
watchers, and any attempt to “ hocus ” the
horse made futile.

So, when morning dawned, Black Ben was fit
to run for a man’s life and looked the very pic-
ture of strength, endurance and speed, so that
his early visitors were more and more impressed
with his appearance, and the betting became de-
cidedly spirited and feeling ran high in the camp
of the Mormons.

Chafing as he was under the restraint imposed
upon him, Powell rest rained himself during all
these days solely on Ivy’s account, realizing that
it would only be through strategy that he could
rescue her from her guards and restore her to
that freedom for which she longed so ardently.

Along toward ten o’clock the excitement

w intense and as that was the hour when

elker and Powell were to meet to conclude all
arrangements, the crowd surged toward the
center of the camp and surrounded the table
where the two irincipals sat and 0 which lay
the pa r on which the conditions of the race
were rawn up.

The surveyor was there, and, in response to
an interrogation from Welker, replied that he
had laid out the wide course as carefully as he
could, and that it had been properly staked and
marked by a double line of posts.

And then the starter and judges were selected,
Powell bcin assured of fair play and being al-
lowed to se ect, as one of the judges, a youn
fellow who had been warticulnrly f iendly, an
who was loud in his eteimination to see that
his man had fair play.

So, everything having been satisfactorily ar-
ranged and Welker having offered his hand to
Pon'ell with the remark If you win, doctor,
my horse is yours,” and the grasp having been
returned by Powell, who, however. was not at all
deceived by this friendly assumption of honesty,
the two men withdrew from the crowd, Welker
walking one way, followed by his son and Claren
while Powell walked off with Eph and Zeke.

“ Cap,” said Claren to Welker, as they walked
away from the crowd, “ you’ll cggscuse me at I
say thet I allers tuk you fur a smartish sort of
a feller; but now I‘m decided thet ye’re a livin’
chump, a bloomiu’ ijeet.”

“Yes?” returned the other quietly, “and for
what reason have you changed your opinion?”

“ W’y, beer ye air, a-reskin’ yer hoss by run-
nin’ him erg’inst Powell‘s. w’en ye mou’t ’a’ tuk
ther doctor's boas an’ bed ’em both.”

“ Yes; and when we get to the city, I’d have
had to turn him in as captured property, and
not had a chance to get him without paying a
big price; but now if I win him, why—he’s
mine. isn’t he?”

“ Thet’s true; but of ye lose?”

“ Then I stand exactly where I do now, don’t
you see?”

“ See! In course I sees. an’ it’s me ez is ther
champ, Cap,” admiringly continued Claren,
“ ye’re n dandv an’ no mistake.”

‘ Well,” replied Welker, with an assumption

  

 

  

I" .495

. . . 7 ~' . .1 I , . ‘ . g I
_ ,fiw....ww _ --_ .. -.....,...~~._._,~.~- . V.‘,._?~-»—_,m,.e ,

 

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Powell’s Pard.

 

 

 

of modesty, “ I try to make a winning once in
a while and sometimes play the correct card.
“And now if you’ll step one side I want to
give my boy his instructions about riding this
race.”
And as Clarcn, still beaming with admiration

at this new proof of his cliiet’s strategy, with— '

drew, \Velker continued, speaking to his son,
who listened attentively:

“Run Blaze from the word “Go!” Get as
much oi'a start as you can and hold it from
post to finish. Use whip and spur as much as
you like during the last mile, but do not touch
the horse once before that.

“Now go and get ready and good luck go
with you.”

And then they walked back to where “ Blaze ”
was standing, surrounding by a crowd of his
admirers.

Meanwhile Powell, who had strolled of! in the
opposite direction, said to Zeke, who caught
every Word uttered:

“ Mind, Zeke, this is to be a waiting race; no
urging, no whipping, no spurring. ficcp close
behind the other horse—Black Ben will do that
without being told—and when you pass the
judges’ stand for the last mile and you hear a

culiar yell, loosen everything and give Ben

is head—do you understand thoroughly?”

“ Puffeekly, boss, puffeekly.”

“ Yer kin depcn’ on de boy, Massa Pow’ll.
He done bed too menny d’r’eckshuns f’om ol’
ma3sa to make no mistakes, haiu‘t ye sonny?”

“D’at I hez, an’ I hath a-goin’ ter inek’ no
mistakes dis yar time.”

And POWell, more and more confident, also
returned to the camp and led the way to Black
Ben’s headquarters.

The prairie made a splendid course, and the
line of stakes that stretched in an oval line
marked as fine a mile track as the most ardent
horseman could wish.

The entire camp was out in full force, and as

ng Wclker rode onto the course, astride of
laze, a yell of encouragement went up from
his admirers and backers that encouraged the
lad and caused the horse to curvet as proudly as
if he had. already won.

And then came Zeke, sitting on Black Ben as
if he were part of the horse, and to him Powell
advanced and whispered one last phrase which
bore a mysterious injunction to the lad.

“Remember: win your race, dismount and
be weighed, mount again and let the horse run
away with you-using your spurs—and tell him
to hold the scarf close to the fire, but as he
loves life, not to burn it i”

And he nodded as he leaned over as if to ad-
m his stirrup and then rode away without ut-

'ng a word.

Riding up‘ to the judges, a belt, heavy enough
toequalize the weights of the two riders, was
strapped about Zeke’s waits and then the two
lads rode down the stretch a couple of hundred
yards. loriked at each other and then came on
slowly at first, but rapidly increasing their
good, until, when opposite the judges stand

ey were nose andnose, and the “ o ”' rung
out unanimously, for a prettier start was never

do.

And then, like an arrow from a bow, Blaze
shot forward ata. word from his driver and
covered the ground like a meteor while a cry of
admiration rang out from the crowd; but was
quickly hushed as Black Ben, increasing his
stride without being urged, reached the flank
of the bay horse and, afiparently regulating his

by the other’s. ung there tenaciously
and would not be shaken ofl’.
I "Round the track they flashed, the bay horse
increasing his speed as they came up the home
stretch, but being unable to shake 011’ Black
Ben, who him on his flank like Fate, and thus
they finished t e first mile.

The second mile was a repetition of the first
and the third ran in exactly the same manner;
but as the horses passed the stand and entered
the fourth and last mile, Welker threw up his
hand in signal to the watching lad, and imme—
diately whip and spur were applied and all
of the bay horse’s latent energies being awaken-
ed, he fairly flew over the turf, leaving Black
Ben a dozen yards in the rear. while a yell went
up from a hundred throats, “ Blaze wins! Blaze
wins!”

But at that moment Powell gave a cry that
sounded far above the shouts of the crowd and
Black Ben, pricking up his ears, and apparently
without effort. gathered his legs beneath him,

ave a mighty bound, spurned the earth beneath
his boots and in three strides caught the bay. in
'three more passed him and then. for the first
time bursting into racing speed, increased the
distance by which he led until, when he entered

 

the home stretch, Blaze, lashed into lather and
spurred till the blood streaked his sides, was left
a quarter of a mile in the rear, and Black Ben
crntered under the line, his rider winning with
hands down, the horse being, apparently, as
fresh as over, while Blaze Was dead beaten out.

And Zeke, ninibly dismounting, Inn to the
scales and was weighed, while the crowd, mad
with excitement, yelled itself hoarse.

CHAPTER XVII.
CLAREN’s sonnMn.

THERE were a few men ’n the crowd Who had
wagered their money on Black Ben, and it was
through their intervention that Zeke was saved
from injury and possible death. as he stood
quietly sadrlling his horse, after having weighed.

The decision of the judges had been unan-
imous, and indeed there was no other course left
open to them, and every one admitted that there
was no comparison between the horses, and that
Black Ben was as far the superior of \Vcl-
ker’s Blaze, as the latter was better than any
other horse in the camp.

\Velker. still keeping up the farce and pro-
fessing a friendly spirit that it is certain he did
not feel, came up to Powell immediately after
the flnish and again shook hands with him.

“ My horse is yours, doctor, and I see now
that I never had a chance of beating you.

“ You can order your man Epli ”—for by
common consent it seemed to be agreed that the
two negroes were the property of the doctor——
“ to take Blaze into his care, for he is yours.”

“ Keep your horse, Mr. VVelker,”r?plied Pow-
ell, cordially. “ I have no use for two. and you
need not be ashamed of Blaze. He gave Black
Ben a good deal to do during the first three miles
and there are few that can beat him.”

“ Well, I am proud to have raced my horse
against Ben, doctor, and if you ever, want to dis-
pose ot‘ your nag, let me have the first chance.
will on?"

“ es; if I ever do wish to sell him, which is
not likely.”

Whatever else might have been said was inter-
rupted by the Scattering of the crowd about

 

Black Ben, who began to rear and plunge ancb,

thrash out with his hind hoofs in the most unac-
countable manner; Zeke, who had remounted
and who still were his white scarf, sticking on
like a leech.

Powell starter] for his horse, but before he
could reach him Black Ben, with a furious snort
lashed out once more and then, taking the bit in
his teeth gave two or three leapsinfo the air. and
then tore out over the prairie, the boy yelling
with fear and the white scarf floating out behind
like a signal of distress.

“ What on earth is the matter with him?” ask-
ed‘Welker, who was watching the fast disap-
peagigg animal with a vexation he could not
con ‘

“ I can’t imagine,” replied Powell. “ I never
knew him to act so before. The blanket was
thrown on the grass and maybe a spine of prick-
ly pear stuck to to it and irritated him when the
boy mounted.

‘ “ But Zeke is a good rider and will probably
bring him back all right.”

And Powell. looking once more in the three
tion where horse and horseman had disappeared
over the rise in the prairie, turned and walked
toward Miss Carter, who stood not far away,
looking somewhat worried, but apparently real-
izing that there was nothing to be done but to
wait.

“ I’ll send my boy after him on Blaze, doctor,
if you think—”

‘ Blaze is utterly done up and you saw whats
Eace Ben set when he ran away. Even if your

orse were fresh, by the time your son got to the
rise Zeke would probably be out of sight.

" No, no! He Will probably run some distance
and then Zeke will obtain control of him and
fetch him back all right.”

And then he joined Ivy, who, noticing that
there was no one within earshot, said:

“ Beautifully done, was it not, doctor?”

“It was indeed; the boy is as smart as a
whip.”

“ And do you think he will find him?”

“Judging from the way he has started out I
should say be weak].

“ But let us trlk no further on this subject,
your excitement may be remarked and cause un-
pleasant comment.

“ Zeke will probably not return before to-
morrow and all we can do is to wait patiently
and hope for the best.

“ Patience is most essential just now, for in
any case your rescue must be long delayed, and
by keeping up hope and courage you will also
keep up your strength. .

Zeke, to carry

 

“ Will you not try?”

“I will, doctor,” said the girl, bravely, “but
it is very hard.”

And turning away, she wiped from her cheek
the few tears that had forced themselves from
her eyes, vowing that they should be the last
she would shed in the Mormon camp.

Meanwhile, Clarcn. who new con ted the pos-
session of Powell’s horse, as he had prolally
never covoted anything before, during his long
career of crime, and Who saw an opportunity of
Obtaining possession of him by riding Mir 1' over-
taking, getting rid (if—by killing, if necessary—-
Zeke, hurried away to the herd. saddled his
horse and taking his rifle, started out ovu‘ the
grairie in a direction opposite to thtittakcn by

lack Ben in his wild flight over the plain.

Welker saw, and called out to Lim, l.ut the
Moi men was prepared and rerlicd that lie was
going out for a little hunt after fresh meat, and
that he would not remain long absent.

So, setting spurs to his horse, he. Soon disap-
peared over the rise which hominid in the camp
on east and west. and then rode rapidly south,
intending, when he had gotten some miles from
the locality. to circle and endeavor to strike the
trail left by the boots of Black Ben.

And so he rode on until well out of sight of
any inquisitive member of tie band, and then
turning his horse’s head to the right, galloped
steadily westward, for a time gradually veering
to the north in the expectation of striking the
course over which Zeke had traveled.

He was some six miles to the southwest of the
camp, and riding in a northwestcrly direction,
guiding himself by the sun, when he suddenly
came upon the broad bed of a dry sand creek,
the bottom of which was some ten feet below
the level of the prairie, and the precipitous
banks of which barred all further progress in
that direction.

This be regarded with a feeling of satisfac-
tion, for if it stopped him, it must also stop
Black Ben, and all he had to do was to iollow
its course and he must strike the trail.

And at that moment his eye caught sight of a
moving object some distance away, and looking
steadily at it, he became convinced that it was
coming t0ward him, and was, in all probability,
Zeke mounted on Powell's horse, so, looking to
his rifle, he dismounted and knelt behind a.
slight elevation, a cruel smde on his lips as he
realized what he was about to do.

And all unconscious of the danger that threat—
ened him, all unconscious of the impending fate,
Zeke—for it was he—rode leisurely on, a perfect
understanding seeming to exist between him

and his horse.

And Claren waited, with finger on trigger.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MESSAGE.

'Tms apparently incomprehensible actions of
Black Ben mig ht easily have bren explained by
Zeke, had he had time and opportunity to in-
form the amazed crowd of t 6 cause, but the
hoise bad business in another dii‘cttion, and
out the well-arranged plan that
Powell 'had conceived, must perforce go along.

Yet it was all simple enough: on remtunting,
the negro bad inserted one of his spurs which he
held in his hand, under the horn of the saddle,
in such a manner that it iiritated the horse
without really hurting him, and caused all the
manifestations of displeasure that he had dis-
played.

As soon as he was well out of sight of the
camp, he removed the spur and had no difllculty
in quieting Ben.

S0 Zeke rode quietly along. glancing back
every little while to see. if he was followed. and
ready at any moment to begin his wild rush over
the prairie bv means of the spur. but no pnrsuer
came in sight. and he rode steadily away from
the camp until he. also, struck the creek, when
he dismounted and waited for some time to
make it rcrfectly refrain that there were no
spies near him or en his trail. .

And it was this delay that gave (‘lm'cn an ep-

ortunity to reach the sand creek before Zeke
Bad rjdd'nn down past the point where the Mor.
mon awaited him With murderous intent.

Uftpr1v and entirely unconscious of any im-
pendingdnn'rcr, Zeke rode along, his (‘yog fixed
on n few tattered leaves that scarce hung to-
gether, the contents of which he was eagerly
dpvoun’ng; for on the stock—farm where he had
been raised. Zelte‘s natural intelligence. and
brightness bad attracted the attention of the
mistress of the house, and she had taken care
that his schooling was not neglected,

So Zeke rode along, Black Ben having pricked
up his ears at the sight of the horse, but having
paid no further attention to him, having become

 

 

  

l
l
. .
l

 

Powell’s Pard.

11

 

 

._.__..,

accustomed to the presence of strange horses
during his confinement in the Mormon camp.

And as Zeke came within range. Claren raised
his weapon, glanced along the sights, aiming be«
tween the lad’s eyes, and fell over, stone dead,
as a puff of smoke flew from a point in the bed
of the creek below him, and the crack of ii rifle
rung out of the still air, ii hile Zeke, startled
into n. consciousness of his surroun'lings,
straightened up with a jerk as Clarcn’s bullet
whistled harmlessly by him, the rifle having
been discharged by his convulsive grasp as the
Mormon plunged headlong to the bottom of the
sand creek, shot to death by a bullet in the base
of the skull.

“ Ye’ll l‘arn. lad, tcrkeep a lookout fur skulk-
in’ varmiut, ’stead o’ stickiii’ yer nose inter liter—
atoor, of yo hez (me er two more ’spei‘ienccs like
this ‘unl” called out a voice to the startled boy,
as the Speaker stepped into View from under the
overhanging bank and proceeded to leisurely
reload his piece.

“ W’ot am do matter, Massa Oil?” gasped
Zeke, his eyes sticking out like well-rounded
plums from a pudding.

“ Nothiii’, ’ceptin’ thet ther Morming yonder
bed a bead drorcd on er, an’ ’u'd ’a’ sont yor
ter kingdom come ef hedn’t ’a’ took a han’ in
ther game.

“ But never min’ him, he hain’t a-goin’ ter
bother yer no more, only let this yar be a IcSSing

to er.

‘FW’ot news hez yer got from ther doctor, an’
w’ot did he tell yer to do?”

“ I tole him what you sod, an’ thet at the fu'st
chance I war a-comin’ out to this yar gully aii’
see ye, ez yer hed Sed ez how ye knowed de ken-
try, an’ thet thar war sech a gully.

“Den he ’lowed ez how he’d sen’ ye a mes-
sildge’, an’ hyar it am, writ on dis yar piece 0’
c o .

And Zeke, untying the white scarf from his
shoulders, tossed it to 011, who caught it and
turned it from one side to the other with an air
of total perplexity.

“ W’ot yer giviii’ me,” growled the giant, evi-
dently thinking that Zeke. was enjoying himself
at his expense, yet taming and twisting the
scarf, looking in vain for hem or border wherein
a note could be concealed.

“ De doctor sed,” explained Zeke, dismount-
ing and allowing Ben to roam, while be seated
himself on the edge of the bank, paying no at-
tention to the body of Claren, that lay where it
had fallen, while his horse cropped the grass

near by.

“ De doctor sed ez how ye wuz ter tek’ ther
scarft ’n’ he’t hit, takin’ ’streme _keer not ter
burn hit, 1111’ de words ’u’d ’peer, hit bein’ a sort
0’ h 1‘ liflkilistic writin’.” _

0 l 100 ed at him a moment as if doubtful of
the result, but. thinking it evidently worth a,
test he knelt and blew into the embers of a
lately-kindled fire of buffalo-chips, which soon
glowed with an intense heat. yet gave out no
smoke. '

Then, holdin the scarf close to the fire, yet
not close enoug to scorch it, he watched the re-
sult anxiously, and, much to his amazomeut the
result came.

Slowly at flrt, but more rapidly as the.heat
penetrated the. folds of the scarf, the fabric
changed 0019? 111 Places and finally words grew
into plain VleW» "web to the astonishment 01" the
amazed and thunder-stricken observer, who had
never come In Contact with sympathetic inks
before. .

’ The explanation was simple; Powell had
written on the scarf With a colorless chemical
that only needed the action of heat to bring it
into view, WhiCh Procaublon rendered harmless

.the fact of the pessible examination of the scarf

b an one of the Mormons. ,

yAnif this was what he had written, as 011
could easily read, warming the scarf from time
to time, as the cooling of the fabric caused the
letters to disappear again:

“At ’Wav up you will find Frank Carter. 'I‘e‘]
him hissister is in Mormon power and to get help
and Iir-pare to rescue her as We leflCh tll" Puss.
When We get there. i will Cdnllll‘lllllCflt/O With him.
Ivy 0 irter is his sister’s name, 'liikc my home and
ri e fv-r the moun'ains. If you think. you owe me a
debt you can pay it by savii g this #111. D0_!10t de-
lay, ut start at once, as the lilgii‘iiLOPS \Vlll soon
break camp. Take no action, With (.irtcr, to at-
tack the Mormons un‘il you hear fr urn me. for they
are capable of massacrmg us both if tleV think
we are about to escape their clutchvs. i will remain
with this band until I see her freed from her bond-
age. Again I say ‘ Hasteni‘ and good luck atti-‘pd
you. FRANK POWELL.

Without a word the giant covered up the em-
bers of the fire. after having burned the scarf
to Cinders; without a word he scrambled to the

- t .
{Nara—thee" '

 

4,, ,;I‘

top of the bank, and, after pitching Claren’s
body into the bed of the creek, out of sight, he
caught the horse that the Mormon had ridden
and took off his saddle and bridle, replacing the
latter by the lariat that hung at the saddle-
horn.

Then, mounting Powell‘s horse, after kicking
saddle and bridle into the sand below, be, for
the first time, Spoke.

“ Tell Frank Powell, thct you see’d me mount
an’ ride away.

“Tell him thet I’ll ride to ’W'ay—up ez fas’ ez
mmi kin ride, nn’ thet ez long oz 011 hez life,
he’ll gi‘n thct life to freeiii’ tlier gal an’ thcr doc—
tor from tlier devils w’ot hez ’eni priz’ners.”

And with no further word, with no sign of
adieu, he turned to the south and struck off to
a point where he could cross the sand Creek,
never once looking back to where he had left the
boy standing, and soon disappeared from sight.

CHAPTER XIX.
BREAKING CAMP.

IT was well on toward night when Zeke hob-
bled into camp, limping fearfully and looking as
if he had encountered a thrashing machine and
settled some long-standing difference opinion
during his absence.

His clothes were torn and dusty and his whole
aspect was one of utter misery and despair.

Almost the first person he encountered was
Welker, who, seeing the state he was in, imme-
diately suspected the true state of affairs and
cried out- angrily:

“ \Vhere is my horse, you black rascal?"

“I hain’t see’d yer hors’, ’deed I hain’t, Massa
Welker.” stammered the boy.

“ I don’t mean my horse, exactly,” said
Welker, correctin himself. “ I mean Doctor
Powell’s horse. hat have you done with him?”

“ I liain’t done nothin’ wif him, Massa Welker.
All do doin’ w’ot’s been done, he done did to me.”

“Quit your nonsense and tell me where he is,
you imp—or—” and Welker looked as threaten-
ing as a mad overseer in slavery days.

“ I spec’ dat brack animile, Ben, am b dis
time, well on his way to Californy, assa
Welker, an’ dat am do trooful troof. He run
aw’ile wid me, den he t’rowed me, den he roll me
ober wid his nose, an’ den he kick up he heels an’,
whooe-eel didn’t him jes’ mak’ tracks ober de
prairie! ’Clar’ ter goodness, Massa Welker, he
jes’ flowed!”

“You don’t tell me that he got away from
you,” cried VVelker, wild with rage, for his anger
had not been lessened by the taunts and jeers of
which he had been the object, and he had an idea
of showing his companions that “ he could best
laugh who wins,” by taking the horse and claim-
ing it as his own.

So be determined to wreak his vengeance on
Zeke, and no one knows what the result would
have been if Powell had not at that moment ap—
peared and accosted Zeke.

“ Well, Zeke, is Black Ben all right?” he said,
evidently thinking his horse was corraled with
the others.

“No, Massa Powell, he am all wrong. But
’deed an’ ’deed, boss, it wa‘an’t my fault. ’Deed
aii’ ’deed it wa’an’t. Dat brack raskil he jes’
frowed me ez easy ez he would eat a oat, an’ be
scam red ofl.’ liken dc win’. Don’ scol’, Massa
Fran (! fur I’se w’ful snrry, I is.”

“ Black Ben ostl” cried Pewcll. “ I would
rather it had been my right arm.”

“ Never mind, doctor,” said Welker, rather
pleased than otherwise that Powell should feel

is loss so keen.y.

“ I’ll string this nigger up, an’ I’ll cut his heart
out With a bull—whip_”

“ You will oblige me by taking no action what.
ever in the matter, Mr. Welker,” replied Powell.
“ Ben is unused to the confinement of camp life.
and has probably nin away for a short time
only. He is too well trained to go far.”

“Then you think that he will return of his
own free act?” asked “'elker. more than pleased
at the prospect of the attainment of his heart’s
desire.

“ I think that there is but little doubt of it.”

“ Then I congratulate you. doctor. and as for
you, chc. I’ll let you off this time, at the doc-
tor’s request. Hill a repetition of the carelessness
will be. punished more severely than you can
imagine.”

“ 1’]! be kcerl‘ul, boss,” cried Zeke asdowncast
as if the disappearance of Powell’s horse were
the result of accident rather than premedita-
tion.

“ But, doctor,” said Welker, storping and re-
turning “we, break camp to-morrow and pro-
cecd on our journey: your horse is not likely to
Em}, and follow our trail, plain though it will

6.

 

“ No; but as we journey west, and he is now
loose somewhere in that direction, we may come-
upon him all the sooner for that very reason.”

And seeing that Powell’s confidence was not
to be shaken, Welker left them, when Zeke re-
peated, as nearly as he could recall them, the
words that Oll had spoken, adding that he had
immediater ridden away, and relating the tragic
manner of Claren’s death and his own narrow
escape.

“ A lucky thing for you, my lad, that Oll was
on the lookout, or our plans might have miscar-
ried totally. But now scatter, and say nothing
to any one about your adventures.”

Then leaving the boy, Pewell proceeded to
Ivy’s tent, and, careful that he was not over-
heard, told her in as few words as pessible, of
the .sucCcss of Zeke‘s mission and how 011 had
accepted the trust.

He encouraged her to try and be patient until
they had reached the mountains, showing how
futile any present attempt to escape would lie,
and left her in a more hopeful frame of mind
than she had experienced at any time since her
recovery, and going immediately to his quarters,
where, as well as the rest of the camp, he soon
sunk to slumber.

And in the bright dawn of the early morning
the preparations for moving began, and before
the sun was an hour high, the entire body of the
Mormons was on the move, and the line of
wagons stretched, cast and west, the long
shadows pointing out the direction in which their
destination lay.

In front rode the advance—guard, from time
to time spurring their horses far out on the
flanks of the slowly-moving body and reconnoi-
teriiig in every direction, guarding against any
possible attack from savage Indian dweller, or
still more savage renegade white.

Much_comment had been caused by the non—
appearance of Claren, but as no Indian sign had
been discovered in the neighborhood, and he was
well-mounted and armed, no uneasiness was
manifested, it being thought that he had wan-
dered some distance away, too far to return to
camp that night, and that he would follow on
during the day.

But during one of the periodical reconnoiter-
ings of the guides to the front and flank, the
sand creek, in which 011 had lain concealed, was
discovered, and the train having arrived at its
banks, a. halt was called until the road, which
led down one side and up the other, could be re-
paired from the damage caused by recent rains.

And while they were resting, one of the men,
riding down the creek bed with no definite ob-
ject in view, discovered Clarcn’s body, lying near
some remains of a fire, his saddle and bridle
near him.

The news hurriedly spread and Welker rode
to the spot in hot haste. followed by Pewell, who
had a fresh mount, and many others, but noth-
ing could be discovered regarding the manner of
Claren’s death.

It seemed probable that he had camped them
for the night, and had been shot by some prowl-
er of the plains, who did not care to burden
himself with the useless saddle and bridle.

So the body having been given decent sepul-
ture and the road being repaired, the train
moved on, slowly and wearily winding its
sinuous way to the West.

CHAPTER XX.
A CHAMPION.

FAR above the timber—line of one of the lefti-
est mountains of Colorado, one of the mighty
peaks of the, giant Rockies, grim guardians of
the West, is situated the mining-camp of ’Way-
up, or rather was, at the time of this tale,
which contains far more fact than fiction.

The camp of ’Way-up was well named, and its
sponsors in baptism must have had a certain
amount of perceptible faculties to thus hich lit
upon a name that was at once soapproprinte and
so euphonious.

For it was “ ’way up” in more than one sr-nse
of the word; “’way up” as regards elevation,
“’wnv up” as regards wealth of siirroundiigs,
and “’way up ” as far as the toughness of its
dwellers was concerned.

The name of “ ’VVBV-UP” among the miners,
hunters, trnppers and rrospcctors of what has
since become the Centennial State, was synon-
ymous with everything that was wild, reckless
and in every way law-defying. _

Not far from the camp w:~s the “plantin’
ground.” as ’Way-up Bill. as he was called, face-
tiously denominated the graveyard or cemetery.

For Bill had not only started the “ Nursery,”
or “Plantin’ Ground," as it was indifferently
termed, but had kept it in a state of perennial
bloom, as was attested by the fact that he was;

 

  

12

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

called indiscriminately, Bill, the Planter, or the
Farmer, by his associates.
On the day in question, Bill was on the war-

‘path, for it was yet early, and he had been tak-

ing in so much tanglefoot, conversation-water,
or whatever else it may be called, that his legs
had become decidedly unsteady, and in entering
the famous saloon, “The Pick and Shovel,” he
had stumbled at the door—sill, and staggering
forward, had measured his full length on the
floor.

A general laugh arose among the few occu-
pants of the saloon, for as Bill was lying face
down, he could see none of them, and they thus
dared laugh with impunity—something that
they would not have dared to do had this terror
of ’Way—up been facing them.

But in that crowd of saloon loafers was one
who did not laugh, but who rather surveyed the
prostrate man with a look of disgust, not ini-
mixed with pity.

This exception to the general rule was a new
arrival at’Way-up, and was looked upon by
the miners of that delectable village with pity
and contempt—pity for his frail stature and
Zboyish appearance—contempt because he inva-
riably declined to join them in any of their
.brawls and dissipations.

And he was, in truth, but little fitted for
either, judging from his appearance physically
or mentally.

Slight beyond the usual slimness of youth, rc-
fined in face to adegrce that was startling, when
viewed in contrast with those about him, he was
as much out of place amid these surroundings
as a lamb among wolves—a fawn iii a den of
lions.

Yet it must not be judged from these compari—
sons that there was aught of fear in cither look
or bearing—on the contrary there wasa haughty
delianco in both manner and gaze that l'orebodcd
ill for any one who might attempt to bully ('I‘
coerce him, and it was apparent to the most
casual observer or onlooker that in case he was
pressed, his ready band would only too quickly
spring to knife or revolver to defend himself.

But as ’Way—up Bill struggled vainly to rise,
being almost helpless from the amount of liquor
he had swallowed, the youth, taking pity on
him, stepped forward, and grasping him by the
shoulders, lifted him as he would a log and
placed him in a chair, with an exhibition of
strength that surprised every one who saw it.

Bill himself, drunk as he was, looked bewil—
dered, and struggled in vain to fix the focus of
his blinking eyes that he might assure himself
that it was really young “Snipsey”—as the
youth was called by the dwellers in ’Way-up.

Snipsey, having seated Bill in a convenient
chair, resumed his nonchalant attitude, and
looked scornfully at the waveri g man who
struggled to retain his equilibrium for amo-
inent, and then toppled forward with a. crash,
again falling to the floor.

Rolling over on his back, he glared in the di-
rection of Suipsey, and then. drawing a revolver
from his belt, fired straight at the youth whose
life seemed sacrificed then and there, exciaimiiig
at the same moment:

“I’ll teach you, ye young cub, to shove mo
onto the floor.”

But, steeping as rapidly as the weapon was
drawn, the boy avoided the bullet, which whis-
tied harmlessly over his head, and then sprung

-on the prostrate man and Wrested the Weapon

from his grasp.

“Look here, Bill,” he cried, “ I’ve always
treated you white; what do you want to do me
dirt for that way?

“ You’re drunk, so I’ll let it pass; but remem-
ber this—twice on have tried to shoot me
down, and now tell you, the third time—look
out! or it’ll be all the worse for you.”

“ VV’ot you rakin’ Bill fur, youngster?” inter-
rogated a gruff voice, that proceeded from be-
hind the stove;whi13 a brawny, bearded man
arose and came from the place where he had
been dozing, half-concealed.

“ Ye’r’ aputtin’ on too many frills, an’ Bill’s a
pard o’ mine, so we’ll just gi’n you a leetle dis-
cipline.”

And striding toward the youth, before the
latter fully realized his intentions, the rufllau
seized the slender arm of the lad in a grasp
that made him wince with pain, and was rais-
ing his other hand to administer a crushing
blow upon the shrinking boy’s defenseless head,
when there came a whizz anl a crash and the
would-be castigator fell to the floor as if the
«chimney had top led over on him.

“Can you tel me," quietly asked the new-
.eomer of the obsequious barkeeper, who stood
nervously wiping a tumbler on his dirty apron.

 

“Can you tell me where 1 can find a man
known as ’VVay-up Bill?”

“Thar he is at yer feet, sir,” smilingly return-
ed the dispenser of liquid tire, lost in admiration
of the new-comer’s nla 'niiicent physique, “ an'
it war about him that “nipsey, thar got inter
trouble with Barker.”

And turning and looking down at his feet
where ’Way-up Bill lay snoring without paying
any attention to his late adversary, who sat in
the corner, groaning, he muttered sori‘owfully:

“ And it is thus we meet, Frank?”

CHAPTER XXI.
THE COUSINS.

THE last words had barely died from the
speaker’s lips when there was a clatter of boots
outside, a sudden cessation of the noise, as if the
horse had been reined in with a jerk, and in a
moment a second stranger entered t e saloon.

The last arrival was our friend 011, who had
just reached 1“7ay-up, having pushed on since
receiving Powell’s note, sparing no time and
galloping night and day, with but short inter-
vals of rest, until he had reached his destina-
tion.

Surveying the inmates of the bar-room for a
moment in silence, 011 said:

“ You kill give me a stiff drink 0’ yer best
whisk. I’m. ncar (load all’ plum tired out, an’
stranger’7—spcaking to the other new-comer—
“ Ye kin j‘ino me.”

” You are courteous, sir, and I will notrefusc.
You may give, me some of the same liquor that
this gentleman is going to drink, barkeeper.”

“ Yes, an7 While we air a-waitin’ fur yo ter
wait in us, Mister Barkeep’, ye km answer a
questing fci‘ me.”

“ Sert‘nly, gentlemen, cnnything tei' please
yer.

“ I be a-huntin’ fur a fellcr by the name 0’
Frank Carter—do ye know him?” a

" ‘ Carter,” repeated the barkeeper, as he set
bottle and glasses on the bar, “ ‘ (.‘arti r,’ seems
cz if I’d heerd thet name, but I’ll be derned
ef—"

“ “'ho wants Frank Carter,” asked a high-
pitched voice, as “ Snipsey ” came forward to
where the two men were standing, glasses in
hand.

“Yes,” added the stranger who had preceded
011 into the room, ” who wants Frank Carter?”

“ lV’y,” continued “ ()ll, Seein’ ez how ye air
both so much interested, I’ll tell ye both. I
want Frank Carter.”

“ Well, that’s mel” said Snipsey, looking at
011 as much as to say—“ and what are you going
to do about it?”

“ You I” broke in the stranger, “ you Frank
Carter? Why that’s my name. Where do you
hail froml”

“ From St. Louis? And you?”

“ From Kentucky. You have a sister?”

u Ivy, es.”

“ Then shake hands, Cousin Frank, for cousins
we are through my father and yours, who are
first cousins.

“ But where is your sister?”

“Somewhere on the plains, coming from St.
Louis to live out here.”

“ On the plains—but—”

“ Yes, on ther plain,” interrupted 01], who
was much interested in, as well as being much
mystified by this conversation between the two
cousins.

" On ther plains, a pris’ner in ther Mormon
train, bein’ carried to Utah, whar she’ll be
‘sealcd’ tcr sum high 01’ Mormon who’ll break
her heart an’ sperit.”

“ A prisoner among the Mormorsl My sis-
ter!” cried Snipsey, doubly surprised at this new
turn of affairs, when two strangers should know
of his sister—one of them of her whereabouts.

“ YeS,” continued 011, motioning for the other
to wait a moment before speaking, “ and I come
from her tcr you to beg yer term Myter-res;
kewher. ‘— “‘ "I" ' '-

“ Git ready. an’ w’en the Mormons air in the
Breakneck PaSS, a man in the camp’ll send as
word w’en an’ how ter purceed.

“ Yer nius’ mek no ’tempt ter help hersooner’n
he son’s yo word, fer ther Mormons ’u’d massa-
('i‘ee the girl of they thought on she was a—tryia’
ter ’scape.”

“But who is this that is aiding her?” cried
Frank Carter—Ivy’s cousin.

“Frank Powell, ther whitest man on y’arth,
an’ him as sez no, lies!” and the giant brought
down his single band on the bar with a crash
that caused every glass and bottle in the shanty
to dance a jig. '

“But,” said the Kentucky Carter, or Frank,
senior, as he ma be called. “What does this
mean? I was tol by a resident in Denver that

 

 

ou, Frank, had become known as ’Wa -up

ill, and that your sister was with you. 'I‘ ere
is some mystery about the matter, and I am go-
ing to fathom it before many days.

“ When do you expect that the Mormon
glam will reach the pass?” he added, turning to

l.

“ Not fur a long time. We kin git read an’
then we mus’ wait fur ther doctor’s wor , an’
he’ll send it, don’t you worry ’bout that.”

“ Well, suppose you come to my shanty,
Frank,” said Carter junior, “and you come
too—you two can find room there and it is a
better place to talk over matters than in here.”

The other two agreed readily to this proposi—
tion, and the trio left the bar—room. ,

Black Ben was standing at the rack in front
of the saloon, looking somewhat thin but still
able to run for a man’s life, the other horse——
obtained irom Claren—having succumbed to the
wild ride and heavy weight of his rider.

Lcadiug the horse, which was much admired
by the two Carters. Oll followed them down
the Single street of ’Way-up and soon came to a
niiner’s shanty which Carter junior announced
as his own, and here they stopped, a shed near
by which had a padlockcd door to it, being
given up to Ben, who Was soon munching his
corn and looking with evident satisfaction at
a rack full of hay overhead.

(-loing into the house, young Carter immedi—
ately iii‘oCi'cdcd to light a tire and to prepare
some food, for both his guests expressed them—
selves :zs being pri't'cctly ravenous.

While they were waiting, “ Snipscy,” or Car—
ter, junior, asked his cousxn how he happened
to be in that part of the country and what his
plans were.

“ My plans are all subordinate to Ivy’s rr scue,
now,” replied his cousin. “ As to how I happen
to be here, that can wait. The most important
thing just at this moment is that this gentleman
should put us in complete possession if all the
facts he has regarding her.”

This being acquiesced in by “Snirscy,” Oll
proceeded to acquaint them with everything
that he knew regarding Pow<ill and lvy, omit-
ting—not from any guilty fooling, however—
from his narrative the fact that he was the hero
of the hanging episode.

“By Jovel” cried Carter, when 011 had fin-
ished; “ that Powell must be a trump, and
I’ll be mighty glad to know him when the time
comes.”

“ And you—your name?”

“Oliver Hunt air my full name, but folks-—
leastWise them thet knows me party “ell-Calls
me ‘ Oll.’ ”

“Well, 01], you’re a brick. and there’s my
hand on it, for myself and for Miss Carter.”

“ Say, Frank,” cried Snipsey. “ Do you know
Ivy?”

“Know her? I might as well tell you now
as not—we are engaged to be married next
winter. ”

“ Engaged? And I never knew it! But I
ain‘t had but one letter from Ivy for I don’t
know how long, and in that she told nu» she was
going to start for this place very soon.”

“ Only one left/er? W by, she told me that she
wrote on at least once a month, and that she
heard rom you about as often.”

“ Look here, Frank, you’ve been dreaming. I
haven’t written to Ivy in half a ( ozen years ex-
cept once, and that was to tell her, atout a
year ago. that I had left Denver and come to
‘Wav-up.”

“ Then there has been some crooked work
going on here. I suspected something wrong
in the first place, and when you said your name
was Frank Carter I was CO'nVlDCPd of it.

“While we are eating I will tell yon “hat I
him". and we can lay our plans accordingly.”

. “ Then let us sit down,” and Snipsey’s invita-
tion was accepted.
. in

CHAPTER XXII.
’WAY-UP BILL IDENTIFIED.

“ I FIRST met Ivy about two ears ago,” said
Frank Carter, the older, when 1 :enenl was well
under way, “ in St. Louis, and, l eing her second
cousin, soon became very good friends “lib her.
The gentleman With whom she was living—her
undo, and yours, Frank—rather c pcsing my
visits, it seemed to me, but not S‘ovn'ng any
open hostility. '

“ As I say, our acquaintance soon ripened into
friendship. and 1 can add that cur friendship
soon ripened into love. and it was not wry long
before we were enaaw‘d. but in secret.

“ I had sounded Your uncle regarding the
matter, and found him SO averse to any thought
of Ivy’s marrying, that I dropped the subject

9

   

 

I_____A_l_ v... ___._ .._

-._. __-¥_ , A .. __. Fa...

 

   

 

 

131

 

Powell’s Pard.

 

 

then and there, and never broached it to him
again.

“ But Ivy and I became engaged, nevertheless
-—tlll£ being nearly a year ago—she promising
to marry me when a year should have elapsed.

“ She showed me your letters, and spoke very
fondly of you, often saying that one of her most
ardent hopes and desires was that you two
might be reunited, being orphans and the only
children.

“Your letters spoke of your success in min-
ing, of your removal to ’ ay-up, Where you
stated that you had large interests, employed
large numbers of men, who, I remember you
said, would fight to the death for you.

“ I was called away from St. Louis to Ken-
tucky by the death of my father, some two
months ago, and left Ivy well and happy, but
was CJmpelled to forego writing to her or re-
ceiving her letters, as your uncle’s opposition to
our intimacy had grown stronger and stronger
during the past few weeks.

“ The settlement of the estate that had been
left to me occupied some days, but that having
been arranged, l hastened back to St. Louis only
toflnd that Ivy had gone and, according to your
uncle’s statement, was then well on her way to
this lace.

“ ghe had not left me a word of explanation,
and for a time I was nearly crazed with doubt
and fear until, as l was leaving the house, an
old servant, to whom I had shown some kind-
nesses, appeared and slily handed me a note from
your sister, which I opened as soon as I was out
of sight of the house and found to be a few
words of attempted explanation.

“ She had learned that her uncle was false to
her and opposed our marriage on account of
some property he had of hers that he would
have to render an account of, and that there
had been an expresion and many threats.

“ Fearing for her life, and not knowwg when
Iwould return, she had converted some valu-
ables into money and had left St. Louis, intend-
ing to join the first wagon train bound West,
she could find, and seek her brother, and begging
me to follow.

“ Having nothing to detain me I immediately
set out to hunt up some trace of Ivy, but with-
out success, and came to the conclusion that she
had joined the train in some disguise, and that
any further inquiry would be useless, so I pur-
chased an outfit and fortunately finding a band
of men who were about tostart across the plains,
I cast- my lot with them and we started.

“ All of us being mounted on horseback, we
traveled much faster than any wagon-tram, but
taking the southerly trail, found no trace of the
missing train. and after a tedious trip of some
weeks, that passed without any particular in—
cident, we arrived in Denver, where, from
worry, exhaustion and over-exercise, I proceed-
ed to fall sick and lay on m back for along
time unable to move hand or oot.

“ n the apology for a hotel where I stopped,
the barkeeper was a former resident 0 this

lace, and told me all about Frank Carter, say-
ing that he had become known as ’Way-up Bill
and was one of the most enterprising of the
miners in this section. .

“Now you.have my story, Frank. what do
you think of it and how do on aeroum h.- t?”

“I d0n’t know Whatto t ink and l m lot
account for it.” replied bnipsey, big eyes
sh0wing his amazement.

“I haven’t done badly up here, but 1 have-
n’t got anybody W0rk1nz_ or me, and as for
being known as Way-up Bill, and as for writing
letters so regularly to Ivy, I confess I am
stum .”

“ ell, is there any_ such man as ’Way-up
Bill in the place?” queried Frank musingly.

“Oh, yes; he was lying on the floor of the
‘Pick and Shovel,’ ralyzed drunk, When you
came in and hit Bar ei that smash in the jaw,
i191- which I using much obliged, by the way,

rank ’ re i ni .

“ Oli, cages all 313%,” said Frank, waving
the matter aside as o no particular im r'tance.

“ But tell me, who is this ’Way-u B}. ?‘

“ He’s a gambler—although he. on t gamble
much, at always has [genty of money. His
name, I believe, is Bill renton, at least that’s
what he has tattooed on his right arm. I saw it
accidentally one day, and right vexed he was
about it, too.” .

“ ‘ Bill Brenton’ did yer say, young teller?”
asked 011, for the first time joining in the con-
versation.

H Yes.”

“Then I lmow him.” said on, with a peculiar
smile, “ an’ elf that’s bin enny crooked work
a-doin’, an’ his name air mixed up with it, yerkin
bet thet he air consarned in it. -'

 

‘leaned forward, sha

“ Eggscuse me, of I leaves yer fur a few min-
nits, gents; I’ll soon be back an”, ef I’m not
purty far gone in my reckonin’, Mister Brenton’ll

come back with me, an’ tell ye all he knows ‘

’bout this yar matter.”

And with no further words the giant rose and
left the room, closing the door after him, and
leaving the two cousins wondering what would
turn up next.

They were not left long in suspense, for soon
foot<teps were heard outside, somebody kicked
lightly on the door with the too of his boot and,
Siiipsey having opened it in response to the sum-
mons, Oll walked in, carr ing the limp body of
’Way-up Bill on his shou der as easily as if his
burden had been a chil l, and proceeding to a
bunk in the comer, dumped his load as uncere—
moniously as if it had been a sack of meal.

’VVay-u was decidedly under the influence of
liquor an snored away in complete uuminscious-
ness of where he was, or what was going on,
while the two cousins, seating themselves, waited
for 011’s explanation of his acquaintance with
the gambler, seeing which, the giant drew up a
stool and, lighting a pipe that he found in his
pocket, began:

“ It air some time sence I lost thet arm,” in-
dicating the empty sleeve that hung loosely at
his side by a nod of the head, “ an’ w’en ther
axydent happen’d thet tuk it off ther’ waan’t
but two pussons present, me an’ thet feller
thar,” and he spat contemptuously in the di-
rection of the sleeping man, who grunted un-
consciously.

“ He hed been a—pla 'n’ keerds with a pard
o’ mine, and I cotche( him a-cheatin’, so, w’er.
ther game war over, endin‘ on account 0’ my
pard bein’ bu’sted, an’ every one bed lef’ ther
room but us two. I tol’ him thet be war noth-
in’ but a thief an’ thet I wanted him ter give
up ther stuff he hed won from Ike.

“ An‘ w’ot does the varmint do but hand out
the dust ’ithout a word, an’ then, ez I war
a-walkin’ off with it. plum me through thei
arm, a-breakin‘ it, an’ then linock’ me col’ with
his gain, arter w’ich he robbed me an’ disap-

r .

“I hain't seen him sence till tor-day. but
gentlemen, w’en he hez slep’ off his licker, 1’]
show yer some fun, an ’11 promise ter fin’ out
w‘ot ye wants ter know.”

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
’WAY—UP BILL’s conrassmx.

THE day passed quietly enough, the three in-
mates of the cabin—011 and the two cousins—
realizing that there was nothing to do but to
wait, while ’Way-up Bill snored on until late in
the afternoon, and the shades of evening were
crawling up the mountain—sides when he awak-
ened.

He sat up, bewildered, rubbed his e es, looked
at the three figures sitting silently iy the fire
and finally, throwing one leg out of the bunk on
to the floor, sat up.

“ Lonk here, Snipse ,” he cried, as he rec ~
nized the younger arter, “ what does this
mean? Did I get overloaded and fall into your
ranch. without being invited!

“Well, you always were a good b0 and I’ll
not forget your taking care of me,” 6 added,
apparently having lost all recollection of his
trouble at the Pick and Shovel.

“Introduce your friends and we’ll all go to
the saloon and have a drink at my expense, for
I’m as dry as a covered bridge and as nervous as
a kitten.”

“One of us don’t need no interdoocin’,” an—
swered 011, “ an’ thet’s inc, Mister Bill Brenton,
ez ye useter be called back in ther States, an’ ez
I cal'lvyer now.”

“ ' ho are you? cried ’Way-up.’ springing out
into the room, and feeling in vain for his wea-
pons, for he had been disarmed. “ Don’t sit
there skulking in the dark, but show your face
like an ho est man!"

“ W’ot 0 you know ’bout ‘ hones’ men,’ Bill
Brenton?” growled Oll, rising and removing his
seat so that he was placed between ’Way-up and
the door. “ Ef you ever knowed ennythin’ ’bout
honesty, ye forgot it long ago.

“ But hain‘t no objecshun ter a light, an’ ef
Mister Carter’ll light up ye’ll find out who it- is
thet air u-talkin’ to yer,” in response to which
Snipsey immediately struck a match and lighted
the candle that stood on the table, and then sat
down again, a silent and interested listener with
his cousin to the conversation between the
others.

And as the dim light flared up, ’Way-up Bill

ing his eyes with his hand,

 

and peered eagerly through the oils‘CLrity at:
011, but, apparently, without recognizing him.

" Hyar’s su‘thin’ thet’ll help yer mem’i'y,” said
011, after a moment’s silence, as he lifted his
empty sleeve, held it up for a moment, and then
let it drop.

“ \Vhat!” cried Brenton, fairly shrieking out
the words, and shrinking back against the wall
of the room, “ Oll Hunt come back to life?”

“ Not percisely, seein’ ez how he wasn’t never
dead.”

“But I killed—” and Brenton stopped, real—
12111" that he had said too mnch.

"QYe tho’t ye killed him, ye mis’able skunk,
but ye didn’t, an’ now he’s a-goiii’ ter kill you I”
and 011 fairly hissed the last words out.

“No. no!” cried ’Way-up, cringing in terror.
“ Suipsey, stranger, you won’t sit there and let
him murder inc!” and he crawled to where the
two cousins were sitting, and crouched on the
floor behind them.

But they sat unmoved and apparently deter-
mined not to interfere.

“ I am a-goin’ ter kill you, hyar, after I’ve cut
off yer right arm, or yer left arm—l’ll gi'n yer
ther ch’ice—close up ter yer shoulder,” and Oll
drew out a formidable-looking knife with blood—
thirsty coolness.

“Torture and then kill me! No: you shall
(lie first!” hurtled Brenton, throwing himself.
upon 01], with the fury of a madman, and, for
an instant, staggering him with the violence of.
the shock.

But on quickly recovered himself, and grasp—
ing ’Way-up in his powerful clutch, threw him
to the ground and held him there, the knife fall—
ing to the floor.

“ Now,” said 011, as he towered above his-
shrinking adversary, “ye don’t deserve it, but
I’ll gi’n ye a chance ter save yer mis’able life.”

“ 0h, anything' I'll do anything if you’ll only
spare me,’ cried Brenton.

“ Wal, then tell us w’ot ye knows ’bout yer
bein’ called Frank Carter, an‘ w’ot ye knows.
consarniu’ hi iss Ivy an’ her uncle.”

“ I don’t know what you mean: I don’t know
what you are talking about," cried Brenton.
“ I swear—”

“Ugh!” snarled Oll, resting his knee on the
other’s chest and holding him as in a vise, “so
you will have it, will you i”

And he reached over and picked up his knife
that lay near b , and leaned down as if to begin
operations on renton’s shoulder, when the. lat--
ter cried:

“ Stop! Mercy! I will tell you all I know
about what you ask.”

“ Tben git up an’ begin,” and 011 allowed
Brenton to rise, which he did. and seated him—
self on the edge of the bunk. first taking two or
three long breaths and feeling his chest as if to
satisfy himself that Oll’s tremendous weight had
not crushed it in or cracked any of the bones.

And then he began his story, the trio list; ning
to him attentively, but none interrupted him,
save by a deep-drawn breath from tinze to time.

“ It is now some years since I lived in St-
Louis, where I became acquainted with a Doctor
Aukeny, who was a physician of high educa-
tion, but little practice, owing to his declining to
attend calls, preferring. as he said. to devote his-
time to chemical experiments, and to studying
abstruse subjects.

“This was the motive he gave to the world,
and passers-by, seeing a light burning in his.
study until far into the morning hours, wculd
say: ‘Doctor Aukeny will make rents wonder--
fu discovery some day, and deservedly so, for
no one in the city works as he does.’

“ But, had they known the truth. they would
have seen that the study had no ccrumnt during
those hours, but that during all those hours the-
light burned in a deserted rocm, tehind a locked
door, “bile the doctor was absent ck; where.

“ And I was the cal man in St. I.( uis viho
knew where he was, or he led a dual existence,
being to the World Doctor Rotius Aukcny: to me
Dirk Deering, my farmer in the finest gambling--
house in the entire States.

“ And it was in the latter place that le trade
the money that enabled him to keep r his fine-
establishment and to appear aircngt e richest
men of the. city, and it was there that he did me
a favor that hound no to him in a certain way,
and that influenced me “hen he requested aid
from me in a certain Troject he had cn hand.

“ Something —— no matter what— haprfned
about that time. and I left St. Louis for other
lands, finally driftini.r out here, and here began
the impersonation of Frank Carter for the -
tor’s benefit, receiving all of Snipscy’s letters,
and ansmaring them as coming from him they
being melosed by the doctor to me, I always.
reading and destroying them.

 

    

.5
i
'If'

3.114.»,‘V

. {A

Powell’s Pard.

  

 

, II_._.._ . V....___. _.

 

“Another friend of mine was in the lot, but
he is in Denver now, and sent me wor of any
one inquiring for Frank Carter.

“ The doctor was trying, in some way, to get
rid of his ward, Ivy Carter. that he might ob-
tain possess‘on of her property, and he, kept me
well supplied with funds in payment for my
work.

“The scheme was that she should come out
here and join me, and then we Were to see. what
could be done, I going to Denver to meet her.

“ The doctor would have no killing and I
wouldn‘t touch—~to harm—a hair of nor head, so
we would probably have taken her away to
Mexico and married her off to some. one.

“ But things turned out all right. Ivy left her
uncle‘s house, determined to join me, he only op-
posing her enough to make her firm in her do-
terinination to come and cause her to leave the
house in secret.

“ An 1 our work is ended, for Doe-tor Aukeiiy
has since learned, as he wrote me, that she had
been entrapped into joining a Mormon train, and
once in the clutches of those men she’s sale to
reach Utah and be sealed to some one.

“ And that’s everything I know, and I‘ll swear
to it.” __

CHAPTER XXIV.

ZEKE ARRIVES.

IVHEN Brenton had finished, Oll turned to the
two cousins and exultantly cried:

“ ' ‘liar, gentlemen, do ye see thct it’s ez I said,
an’ this yar p’izen skunk air mixed up in ther
hull bizness. An’ now, w’ot’ll we do ’ith ther
ems?" '

“That,” said Snipsey to his cousin, “ isa mat-
ter concerning you as much as it does me, and I
think we had better postpone the matter until
to—morrow." '

“ Precisely my idea, Frank,” replied his cous-
in, “ but I think we can make better use of the
man than killing him, although he deserves the
punishment, I am sure.

" Dead, though, he would be of no further use
to us, but alive you can perhaps, through him,
bring Doctor Aukeny up to toe the mark and
make him settle up with you, for I suppose that
you are equally interested with your sister in
any roperty he may be the trust-cc of.”

“ ery likely,” said Snipsey. "I have often
wondered what became of my father’s larn‘e for-
tune, and have no doubt that my uncle Timows
more about it than he would care to tell; but
using Brenton, here, as a witness. we can force
,him to restore any property he may have divert-

,‘cd to his own use.

i g “ But now we’ll have supper .and then, as I
suppose you two are tired, we Will turn in—we

will not leave the cabin until we have word from
Doctor Powell.

“And as for you. Bill, don’t you try to ride
rusty, for, witness or no witness, if you try to
cut up any capers, we will perform a surgical
operation on your arm that will leave you in the
same condition with 011, there, and then let him
do as he leases with you.

“ You ear me 1"

“S’elp me Bob, Snipsey, I won’t stir, but’ll
stay right here until you give me leave to go,
only romise me that you’ll not harm me.

“ ow could I play cards with only one hand?”

" Well, if you’ll go East and give your testi-
mony regarding your conspiracy with the dOc-
tor. we’ll be easy with you, if Oll consents.”

“Oh,ef it’s ennythin’ ter help ther gal w’ot
Doctor Powell air a—helpin’, I’ll do jes’ w’ot yer
say.” And 011 extended his hand to Snipsey,
who grasped it warmly, when all turned in and
got supper Bill lending a helping hand and be-
ing trade as one of them, but being fastened to
011 when they retired and forced to occupy the
inside of the same bunk with the giant.

Nothing disturbed their slumbers and noth-
ing of importance transpired during the day,
none of them, however. gomg far from the
cabin, not knowing at what hour Powell’s sum-
mons would come and they would be called upon
to “ up and be doing.”

And so the days rolled by each one growing
more and more unbearable, until the two
cousins grew nearly wild, unable to control
themselves and imagining all sorts of painful
things about Ivy.

And finally it was agreed that in case noth-
ing was heard b the next evening, they would
start out, despite the entreatics of 011, who
begged them to remember Powell’s request and
wait until they had heard from him-anything,
they said, was better than this unbearable sus-

use.
peAnd as the sun began to sink low in the west,
they commenced their preparations, 011 refus-

 

 

l
ing to accompany them, saying that he had

promised to await the doctor’s messenger, and
wait he would. He did not believe that any-
thing had happened to delay him and had too
much confidence in Powell to doubt for a mo—
ment that eVerything would turn out all right.

Yet the cousins persisted. and, mounting
their horses, turned for a moment to speak a
parting word to Oll, who stood in the door-
way, when there came a sudden clatter of iron-
shod hool's up the road and sweeping round
the bend came a horse and rider, enveloped in
a cloud of dust, from the midst of which came a
chuckle. a yell and a bowl, all mingled together,
followed by a voice that cried:

“ lli, da, Massrt 0]], how is you?”

“ Er it ain’t thet nigger cho I’m darned,”
said 01], sententiouslv.

“ What,” cried Carter the elder, “Powell’s
messenger?"

“ Yes, l’owell’s nigger.”

“And just in timc,”addcd Snipsey, as the
two dismounted and awaited the Coming of
Zeke, who rapidly drew near, stopped in front
of the cabin. dimiiouiitedaiid immediately threw
at least a dozrn cart—wheels, spinning around
like the spokes in a sulky drawn by a trotter
at full speed.

liis exuberance beingr finally quieted, the boy
came up to Oll, grinning from ear to ear and
crying:

“ (lolly, Massa Oll, but l’se glad ter see you
—t’ought I’d iivber git yai‘.”

“ You come from Doctor Powell?” asked
Frank, senior, ti'ciiibling with anxiety.

“Right straight, sah,” replied Zeke, pulling
off his cap and bowing his woolly hen .

“And what is your nicssag- 2’”

“ Hit’s fur Mass 0H, s: h, an’ twell he gi’ns me
permission tci' iiidci'kate. tcr you w’ot I iz de
li’arer ob, dis chile must decline ter eloocidate
any infuriiiation.”

“ All right, Zeke, these gentlemen air fr’eiis o’
mine, nn’ one o‘ ’cin is Miss Ivy’s brother an’
t’othcr’s her cousin.”

“ Shol now, of dat’s so, bosses, ye kin know do
hull o’ w’ot l’se got tcr say. But who am de odcr
gent?” regarding Brenton with distrust and
suspicion.

“ Ye’r’ right, lad,” said 011. “He hain’t no
I)lle(‘SS tcr hear w’ot yer’s got ter say, so git
inter ther shanty, Bill Brenton, an’ stay thar
till ye‘r’ wanted.

“ filiut ther door ai‘ter ye, too, an’ don’t listen
or—

And the giant pointed significantly to his
empty sleeve and then at ’Way—up Bill’s right
arm, which significant gesture was sufficient,
and theex-gam bler disa pcared inside the cabin,
closing the door behind him.

“ Now, bov, hurry and tell us what word you
bring from Doctor Powell. But tell us first: Is
Miss Iv well?”

“Pu eckly, sah, pufl’cckly, an’ sen’s heaps 0’
lab to her brudder an’ to her cousin, an’ ’pears
ter me dat dar’s a hen nio’ fo’ her cousin dan
fur her bruddcr. Ya»! yahl” and the young
imp laughed uproariously.

“All right, Zeke." said Frank, senior. “I’ve
got a good many dollars st :wed away for yer,
and when we are all back in the States you’ll be
the boss on my Kentucky farm and shall manage
the stables, but tell us now, and as qmckly as
you can, what Doctor Powell wants us to do.”

Strip ed of all the additions with which Zeke
adorim his narrative, Powell’s message took
sha in this manner:

T rat on the 14th of the month—two da 8 later
—the Mormons would enter the pass an would
probably camp for dinner at Hidden Pool, below
Hanging Rock—with which places Snipsey was
familiar.

As Soon as the Mormons were busy with their
mid-(la meal, Powell and Ivy would walk up
to the )end in the pass, where Frank Carter
was to be with all the men he could muster. and
where it would be an easy matter to hold the
Mormons at bay, owing to the bend in the road
and the narrowness of tie path, in case they
were pursued, until night came, when they
conldescapcinto the mountains and seek the
shelter of ’Way-up.

This plan seemed feasible enough and it was
agreed that they should wait until the day
named, in the mean time collecting what force
they could, and make the attack as suggested,
Zeke, telling them that Powell and Ivy were
granted a certain amount of liberty. although
more than one pair of eves was always on them.

And Zeke having asked for some food, they
opened the door and 011 entered first, looking
about for Brenton. but in vain.

He had removed a plank from the back of the
building and escapedl

 

CHAPTER XXV.
OLL TO THE RESCUE.

SEEK as they would they could find no
trace of Brenton, and they were compelled to
abandon the chase and return. unsuccessful
to the cabin, when Snipsey proposed that
he should go into ’W'ay—up—for his house was
about half-a-niile ii way from the mining-
cainp—and obtain volunteers for the coming
attack on the Mormons.

" And maybe,” he added, “ I will come across
’lVay-up Bill. and if Ido I’ll fetch him back,
you may depend on it.”

This was acquiesced in, and young Carterdis-
appeared in the direction of the camp, or town
as it may he called, while 01] and the elder Car-
ter withdrew into the cabin to await his re—
turn.

“ Bad job lhet, a-lcttin’ Brenton git away,”
said ()ll, shaking his head.

“ Well, I guess we can make Doctor Aukciiy
give up Without his assistance, by threatening
him with the law.”

“Thct haiii't ther ti‘ubiile; s’posin’ Brenton
goes tcr thcr Mormon camp an’ givcs ther snap
away, so that they can’t escape, w’ot air ther
doctor aii’ ther gal a-goin’ tcr do ’hout ii i”

“True. Then We had IK‘LN‘I'thld like back
to the camp with a message to the doctor, ad-
vising him oi" the situation and counseling him
to get rid of Brenton in Some manner, before he
has a chance to betray our plan to the Mormons
for there is but little doubt that he overhear

us.

“So call Zeke, and let us see what he has to
5a about it.”

Iliit Zeke, on being told of the proposition,
objei ted niost decidedly.

“Br I goes back ’iiiong dcm Mormons,” he
said, his eyes popping out of his head until it
seemed as if they must inevitably drop from
their sockels, “ (lat man Welker'll kill me sho’!”

" What has he got against you ?” aski d Frank
Carter, aniuseil at the boy’s earnestness.

“ lle am inad ’kase I done \\ hop his boy,
licked de stufiiii’ outcn him, ’kase why Massa
Powell. w’eii he done tole inc dat I inus’ tak’ do
word ter you—all’s bout comin’ tcr help him, he
sed ez how I mus’ hab a good ’scuse fur lcabin’
de camp, so’t dc Mormons ’u’dn’t ’spect nuthin’.

“ So I jess turn in an’ I vi hop dat Welker boy
ser‘ous. W lie-eel I jes’ ri’n him do wu’ss t’rash—
in’ he eher got an’ den jes’ skun out, liken I
was ’{card ob de kyars.

“ No, sircel I dassen’t go back, an’ of I did,
dey’d ’speet su’thm’, an’ I e u’dden’t git ter speak
ter Massa Powell nor to Missy Ivy no way.”

“ So that plan is knocked in the head.” said
Carter, seeing that they could, under the circum-
stances, make no use of Zeke.

“Well, we will have to trust to luck and hope
that Brenton did not hear Vt hat we said and that
he will keep away from the Mormons.”

In a few moments o‘nipsey returned, and he
looked so despondent, sodown—hearied. that both
his cousin and 011 started up, wondering what
new calamity had bel'allcn them.

“ What do you think i" he cried, as he. entered
the cabin and Sunk down on a stool near by.
“ The camp is deserted—there’s not a Si 111 there
but the barkceper, and he’s going to pull out as
soon as he can get his things ready.”

“ What do you mean? How did it happen?”
asked his cousin utterly bewildered.

“ 0h» a day or two ago some one brought news
of a tremendous strike of rich ore over on the
other side of the range, and that was enough—
the Whole camp moved and is now forty miles
away. and as none of us has been into the town
for several days, we, naturally. know DOthlng
of it at all. _

“ But my sister—what are we 30mg to do
about her?” and the boy—for he,“ as Such in
Wars—placed his head in his hands and sohbed
as though his heart would break .hlS_ “3111's,.
springing from such a source, doing him infinite

onor.

“ W’ot ’ll we do?” roared the giant. “ W’ot ’11
we do! W’v us three ’11 go an’ save yer sister,
us three will, thet’s w’ot “e ’11 (10-

HAn? Frank Powell ’ll hrlp us; so stop yer
whimpm-jn’ an’ brace up. D’yc think we air
a-goin’ ter weaken? Nary weak 1”

His words infused some of his own spirit into
the other tWO, and springing ul' they grasped his
hand and felt more confidence from that mo-
ment.

 

The Mormons had arrived at the campin -
ground mentloned bV Powell in his messagego
Frank Carter, and all were busy preparin the
noon meal, except the Magic Doctor and v ,
who strolled about, apparently aimlessly, s e

 

 

 

Powell’s Pard.

15

 

admiring the different views that he pointed
out, but all the time gradually approaching the
upper end of the camp and going further up the
pass.

At a moment when, for an instant. they were
out of ear-shot of any of the numerous groups
that gathered about the different fires, Ivy took
advantage of their position to say to PoWeli,
hurriedly :

“ ()li, doctor, if they should fail us!”

“ Do not. fear,” he replied, confidently, “ they
will not fail us. .

“Glance up at the Hanging Rock,” and he
pointed a little distance up the pass where the
road ran around wider a sheer precipice that
sprung straight up, and on the topmost edge of
Which was balanced a huge bowlder, many tons
in weight, that seemed as if the slightest breath
Would topple it over.

“ School yourself now!” and raising his hand
he touched his hat, when, in answer, a. tiny bit
of cloth appeared for an instant along side the
Hanging Rock.

“ IlOti"ed that some time ago," said the. doc
tor," and only awaited a favorable opportunity
to tell you,oi it.

“Your friends are doubtless waiting for us
just around the point of the road, and in a. very
few meiiient’s you will doubtless be free, and—”

He stopped, abruptly, for at that moment a
man appeared walking quickly. whose face was
unknown to him, and who, as he passed the dot:-
tor and ivy, took off his hat with an exaggerate
ed bow and said, sneei‘ingly:

“ (‘rood—iiiorning, Doctor Frank Powell; good—
morning, Miss lvy Carter; you are out for a
walk. I see!"

And he passed on as quickly as he had come,
stopping to a. k a question of the first group he
approached, and then hurrying in the direction
of the place where Welker stood.

“ Who was that, doctor?” asked Ivy, frighten-
ed by the-man’s manner.

“ i do not know; probably some one of the
Mormons whose appearance is not familiar to
me.

“But come, we can walk a little faster, and
now comes the critical moment!”

And they hurried on toward the bend in the
road, where it turned suddenly to the right, it
being hidden by the bold corner of the rock
that here jutted out frowningly and rose so
steep, while far below brawleo‘. the brook whOse
course the mountain—pass followed.

But as they hastened on, they heard a shout
behind them, and looking over his shoulder,
Powell saw, a quarter of a mile behind, the
stranger who had spoken to him, pomting in
his direction, while every man in the camp
was hurrying to Welker, who was calling them
to aSSeinble.

And catching Ivy about the waist, Powell
broke into arun, while the band of Mormons
started in pursuit with a. hoarse yell, the stranger
in the lead.

Nearer and nearer they drew, when, high up
overhead, a. rifle cracked, and the new-comer
pitched headlong 1n ins tracks, shot to death by
01], who had recognlzed Brenton.

But this only gave brief respite to the fugi—
tiv05, yet they managed  reach the bend and
Sprung ’round it, expecting to find themselves
in the. midst of a band of rescuers, but found
themselves confronted only by the two Carters
and Zeke.

And as they rushed around the bend, the two
90usins stepped forwardand emptied their rifles
Into the mpuny advancing crowd, while a shot
from 011 kept them company: but the effect
was barely noticeable. and 51311 the body of men
swept (in—what could three men avail against a
hundred?

It. seemed as if the girl must inevitably be cap.
tured and her companions suffer some frightful
death, for they mum load and fire but once
more, and theme—Powell shuddered to think or

.1311? just as the leaders of the MOI'mODS arrived
within a few vards of the bend—Welker among
the number -ihere came from overhead a. mighty
rush and your as j f the whole mountain Were
cavmg in upon them, and as they Stood a mo-
ment paralyzed with fear and then turned to flee.
th? Hangmg Rock, loosened from its bed and
bringing with it tons upon ton: of earth and
stones, crashed down u n them, burying them
deep under its mass an crushing them out Of all
semblance of humanity while a few feet aWay
the others stood safe. ’

0“ had~ by a mighty exertion of his enormous
strength. loosened the rock from its foundation
and hurled '

to save the girl and her friends.

it down on the Mormons just in time

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
AND LAST.

BUT a few words more.

Powell accompanied the fair girl, whom he
had so carefully and nobly cared tor, back to St.
Louis, the two cousins, One-Armed ()il, Zeke
and Old Eph (who had remained in the (-ampand
was unhurt) being also of the party, and it was
mainly through his efforts that Doctor Aukeny
was induced to restore to Frank and Ivy the
large fortune left to them by their father and
which he had obtained possession of.

Frank also assisted at the wedding, a short
time after, aceompanying the happy pair to
their Kentucky home, where Zeke was installed
as head man of the stables. and Old Eph given a
soft and lazy berth, while Oll was made general
overseer and manager. '

SnipSt-y—or Frank Carter, junior, returned to
Colorado after some little. time and there by ju-
dicious investments more than quadrupled his
fortune and is now one of the most influential
men in the State, being seriously talked of for
U. S. Senator.

And Frank Powell? Happy in the conscious-
ness of having performed a gooi ac'ion and
i'iglited a wrong, he stayed for a time to Witness
the happiness that] resulted from his actions, and
then, bidding all an affectionate good-by, left
them and again started West, leaving young
Zeke bliibbering like a broken-hearted child.

And the warmest wishes of loving hearts fol-
lowed him, night and day.

THE END.

 

Beadie’s Half-Dime library.

RY MAJOR HENRY R. STHDDARD, Ear-Scout.

 

806 Neck-Tie Neil; or, The Dug-Out l‘nrds.

346 Rapier Raphael: or. The Su'nrdsiueii or Zucalecu
891 Kid-GIOVC K“. [be Dandy oi the Rnrkiv':

898 Kid-Glove It'll. mid Pal-d; or, The Gold King.

4061‘1I01 Mod Mun-Hunter; or, The Mystery of Golden
‘uici.

BY HARRY ST. GEORGE.

80 Roaring Ralph Rockwoml, the Rnnger.

44 Riittllng Rube: or, The Nighthawks of Kentucky.

5!! 0” Hickory; or, l’nndv lcliis's Scalp.
108 During: Davy; or, The Trail of the Border \anf.
166 Hickory Hurry; er, The 'i‘rapper-lirignde‘l Spy.
172 Thunderbolt Tom; at, the \Vuii-Herder.

BY JAMES L. ROW‘EN.

107' One-Eyed Sim; or, The Abandoned Forest Home.
110 The Black Steed oi'tiie Prairies. A Story of Texas.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.
185 Captain Paul: or, The Boy Spy ol‘the Mountains.
280 The Yankee Rajah; or. The Fate of the Black Shared

RY GEHRGE C. JENqu
485 Git Thar Owney, the Unknown.
492 an Thar Owney’u Pledge.

BY CAPT. ALFRED B. TAYLOR, U. 8. A.
191 infirm.) Billy, the Boy Bullwhacker; or. The Doomed
’ ' iirleen.

194 Buil'ulo Bill’s Bet; or. The Gumbior Guido.

BY CHARLES E. LASALLE.

50 liurt Bunker, the Trapper.
52 The White Buil'ulo. A Tale of the North'.“

BY JOHN J. MARSHALL.
40 “0‘1": Ben, A Story nfn Young American.
' 9? The outlaw Brothers; or, The Captive of tho Harps].

BY MAJOR E. L. ST. YRAm. ‘

299 Sum-ho Pedro, the Boy Bandit.

301 Lt‘ndville Nick, the Boy Sport.

312 Retltop Rube. the Vigilante Prince.

888 Brimstone Bob, and ill; Lightning Horse Qumu
85” Tomb-tone Tom. the Arizona Boy of“ Sand.”
35” "'H‘nm’u limo. [In Y lill'! ‘nulnu n \‘ rvsller.
37‘ Klflu‘boli. Chi-In, the Young Harri-Shell Detective.
880 Avalanche Alf. the Foolhiiiu Guide.

890 Jaguar Joe, of the Mount in Mail-line.

BY MAJOR LEWIS W. CARSON.
278 The Three Trgpperu; or, The Mount in Mon-Mr.
’88 Indian Joe: or, Tho White spirit of the H.111.

BY W. J. HAMILTON.
68 The Red Brotherhoodi or. The Twelve Am
00 Single “and: or, A Life for n Llr.,
79 Mad Tom Wei-tern, tin- To,“ Run“
 Bel  the cl". King; or, Big Peal. 

 

BY CAPTAIN FRED. WHITTAKER.

15 The Sea-Cat; or, The “'itcii of Dorian.
29 The Dumb Page; orI The Dnge’s Daughter.
43 Dick Darling, the Pony Expresu Rider.
150 Lance and Lani-o; er, ’l‘hn (Thiidren of the Chnco.
154 The Swurd Hunters; or, The Land oitlie Elephant Eldon.

159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper Jubez Coflin'n Cruise to tine
Upeii l’uhir Sen.

200 The Roy Redoulnuz or, The Broil an of the Piumnd Lance.
211 “'oll'gnnz, the ilcbber oi the Rhine.
249 .“ilo Romer. the Animal King; or, The Round the World

‘\'iiiiden'r.
265 The Tiger Tamer; :7, The League of the Jungle.
331 Black Nick, the Deznou Rider.
395 California Joe’s \Vnr Trail.

RY BITCKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8. Hill.)

234 Old Rock)": “lloyeco;" or, Benito, the Young Hone-
llrcnker. v

2-16 (iliiut George; or, The Ang‘l of the Range.

275 Arizona Jucl.’ ; or. Giant (let rge’s Paul.

297 The Tarantula oi' Tans; or, (limit George‘s Revenge.

30? The htrnuze Paul; or, Little lleii'a i)l‘lliil Hunt.

313 Ker-whoop. Ker-\rlioo; or, The 'i'nriinluin nf'l‘nos.

8‘2? Creeping: Cut, the (Inddo; or,The Red and White Yards.

332 Frio Fred; or, Tin- ']'onlmuny’s Trust. I

8 l4 The Fighting Trio; or. Rattlesnake, Ihe Tunknway.

819 \"illl “'oll'; or, llig-li'ent “'n‘iace to the Fr nt.

3:»? The Ranch Huidern: or, The, Siege of Fort Purgatory.

361» Sllflp-glllli, the Roy Rnuger.

337:» (‘iiioliu the Creek; or, The Tim»- Thunderbolts.

8"! “illltll‘rll Bill: or, hit) Frank to the Front.

392 Romeo and the Roth; or. The ileiengiiered Ranch.

404 Little Lliriut; or, l'l‘L’iiil Pete’s iiig Rampage.

4” The Hui-«y from Denver.

427 The Three 'i‘riiliers; or, Old Rocky on the Rampage.

442 Rluil' RN]: or, Th.- Lynx oi the Leona.

4515 Little Lone Slur; or, The Belle of the Ciboio.

RY ED \V A RD ‘1' ILLETT.

167 Ann Scott, the Steamboat Boy.

199 Featherweight, the ilny Clinmpinn oftiie Musliingnnl.
221 Ozark All‘: or, Featiirrweigiit Among the ()utluwl.

2S2 ’l‘lievapo Detective; or, “'ensel, the Buy Trump.
295 Fearless I‘Iiil; or, The King of Qiinrtzriiie.

ill 1 The Roving- Sport; or, The Pride of Cimckoiucl. Comp.
3‘22 Neino, the Detrotive; or, Kit Ku-nyen‘s Vendetta.
8-10 Clip, the Contortionlut; or, The Montana Vigiiunl‘.

BY J. C. C(DWDRICK.

360 Silver-Mask, the Man a! Mystery.
86!) slim-tn, the Gold King; or, For Seven Years Dead.

4201:1112 Detective’u Apprentice; or, A Boy Without a
line.

424 Cibuln John: or, Red-Hot Times at. Ante Bar.
439 Sandy Faun. the Siren-t. Scout.

46? Disco Hun. tin- Daisy Dude. ‘

490 Broadway Billy. the Bootbiuk Brno.

BY J0 PIERCE.

89? Rob 0’ the Bowery; or, The Prince of Mulberry SM
415 The Vagabond Detective; or. Bowery Bob’l Boon.
452 Hotspur Bob, the Street-Bey Detective.

460 The Lawyer’s Shadow; or, Luke’n Lem.

472 Juunty Joe, the Young Horus-King.

494 Surly Sim. the Young Feri'ymun Detective.

BY CAPT. IARK WILTON.

2:36 Young Kentuck: or, The Red Law.
270 nllzzgrd Ben; or, The Riot ll. Keno Camp.
236 J ooh, the Roy Tender-foot.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE REID.

73 Blue. chk; or, The Yellow Cliief’u Vengeance.

8? The Land Pirates: or, The League of Derii’l inland.
18'? The Helpleu “and; or. Buckwoodn Retribution.
289 The Gold-seeker Guide; or, The Lost Mountain.

BY BRACEBRIDGE HEIYIG

89 Inland Jim; or, The Pot of the anily.
91 The Camilla oi‘ the Club; or. The Kind Athlolfl.
101 Jack llarkuwuy in New York.

BY GEORGE W'ALDO BROWNE.

86 Dandy Rock, the Man from Texas.
90 The Broad Rider; or. The Texan Dueth
99 The Tiger oi‘Tnnu: er. Dandy Rock’s Ann),
115 The Mad Miner: or, Dandy Rock’s Doom.
181 The Golden Hand: or. Dnnriv Rock to the Rncuu.
164 handy Rock‘s Pledge; or, Hunted to Death.
178 Dandy Rock’s Rival; or, The taunted Maid of?“

A New Tune Every Tuesday.
The Half-Dine Library in for Sale hy nil new-duh."
call per copy, or uni by mnli on receipt of nix cent- each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS. Publishers,
98 Willie- Street. New York

 

 

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BEADLE’SieHALF-DIMErLIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

BY ED‘VARD L. WHEELER.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road.
20 Double Daggera- or Deadwood llick’a Defiance.
26 Cloven Hoof, the lliiiihlo Demon.
28 Buffalo Hen; or, Deadwood Dick in Dilguiee.
82 Bob \Vooli’; or, The Girl Dad-Shot. ‘
85 \Vlid Ivan, the lloy (‘luude lluvnl.
89 Death-Face, lieu-olive; or, Life in New York.
I’hantom Miner; or. Dwulwood Dick'. lionnntn.
45 Old Avalanche; or, Wild lCdnn, tliu Girl iirignnd.
49 Omaha 0“; or, Deadwood Div-l; in Danger.
53 Jim Bludnoe, Jr., the iioy Phenix.
57 Deadwood Diek‘a Eagle-1; or, The Purda of Flood Bar.
01 liuekhorn Iiill; or. 'l'imltm [title Team.
69 Gold Riile, the hilarlnlmoter; or, The Boy Detective.
Deadwood Dlek on Deck; or. Calamity Jane,ti1e Heroine.
77 Corduro Charlie-K1",Ileanllvondllick’l Last Act.
80 Rollebm Rob or, 'uggct Ned, iha Knight.
84 ldyl, the Girl . liner; or, Rouimd Rob on Hand.
88 Photo raph l’hil; or, Ruaehud Roh‘a lteanpenrunce.
92 Cuna it (met; or, Old Anaconda in Sitting Bull’s Camp.
96 W uteh-Eye: or, Ar:th nnd Angels oia Great. City.
100 Deadwood Dick in Leadvllle.
104 Deadwood Diek‘n Device; or, The Double Cro- Sign.
00 Deadwood Dick all Detective.
13 Jack Hoyle the Young Sveculator.
l7 Gilt-Edged Diek, tin- Spurt Detective.
i (‘innamon Chin, the Girl Sport.

“Hill-Iii

2

2o Bonanza Bill. Miner.

129 Deadwood Dick’s Double; or, The Ghoet o! Gorgon’l
Ill C o

138 Rona liob the King of Boothlaclu.

188 Blunde Hill; or, Deadwood Dick'a Home Bane.

141 Solid ham the lloy Rond-Azont.

145 Cultist-,1)“ Ferret. the New York Dot-cave; or, Boe- mom

on: o ,

149 A Game of Gold; or, Deadwood Dick‘a Big Strike.

156 Deadwood Dick of Deadwood; or, The Picked Party.

16! New York Nell the Boy-Girl Inactive.

177 Nohb Nick ofNevada; or. The Sierra: Scampa.

181 Wild ‘rank, ihe Buchlhln lirnvn.

195 Deadwood Dlek‘a Dream; or, The Rivula of the Road.

201 The Black Ilille Jeuebel; or, Deadwood D ck'a Ward.

205 Deadwood Dlek'a Doom; or, Calamity Juno’a Lut Ad-
venture.

209 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective.

213 Fritz to the Front; or The Ventriloquiet liuuter.

217 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl llrifinnd.

221 Sugar-Coated flnm; or, The Bias Gown.

220 Suoozcr, the B 1 Sim ~. or, 'I he Arnb Detoctivr.

282 Gold-Dust Dick. A tonmnco 0! Rough; and Tough;

’86 Apollo Hill, the Trail Tornado.

240 C clone Kit, the Young: Glndiator.

244 8 erra Earn, the Frontiur Ferret.

248 B-erra Sam's Secret; or The Bloody Foot rlnta.

258 S--erra Snm’e Ford; or. The Angel ol Big in...

258 Sierra Sam'n seven; or.The Sit-Ion llrido.

268 Deadwood Diok‘a Dividei or. The Spiro of Swan, Lake,

268 Deadwood Dick’e Death ‘rail.

278 Jumbo Joe the Buy Path-I: or, The Rival IIoin.

277 Denver Doi‘ . the Detective Queen.

281 Denver Doll‘u Victory.

’fl5 Denver Doll‘a Decoy ; or. Little Bill’s Bonanza.

291 Turk, the Boy Ferret.

290 Denver Doll's Drill; or. The Road Queen.

299 A No. 1, the Diuhinz Toll-Taker.

308 ‘lea Jane, the ’iirl Miner; or. the Iron-Nerved Sport.

809 Deadwood Diek’a Big Deal; Or, The Gold Brick or

 

Oregon.
821 Deadwood Dick’a Dozen ; or, The Fakir otPhantom Fiat...
825 Kelley Hiekev A: Com any, the Sleuth: 0! Philadelphia.
880 Little ulek-Shot; or. ' he Dead Fun at Dn‘gunviilo.
B 4 Kangaroo Kit; or, The hly-torioua Miner.
889 Kan aroo Kit’e Racket.
3435 Manhattan Mike, the Bowery Blood.
847 Deadwood Dick’a Dueute; or, Rainy Day- in the Dig.
gin".
851 Deadwood Dick Sentenced; or, The Terrible Vendottu.
858 FInt-CInaa Fred, ihn Gent irum Gopher.
862 Deadwood Dick’e Claim; or, Tin Fairy Fae. o! Faro

“an.
508 Ereka Jim, the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottery of
to

872 Yreka Jim’e Prize.

578 Nabob Ned; or, 'I he Secret of Slab City.

88’ Cool Kill. the Kill! 0i Kid]; or, A Vlllliin’a Ven‘m

885 Yrcka Jim's Joker; or, The Rivala on Red No...

889 Hieyele Hen; or. The Lion of Lighluing Lode,

894 Yreka Jim of Yuba Dana.

400 Wrinklea, the Night-Watch Detective.

405 Deadwood Dick in Dead City.

410 Deadwood Dick’s Dianne-do; or, The hint", of J.“

orier.
416 High Hat Harry, the Bale llnll Detective.
421 Deadwood Dick‘in hew 1 ork; or, “ A Cute Can.”
‘20 Sam Slab-Idea. the Beggar-Boy Detrctlvo.
480 Deadwood Diek‘a Duet; or, The Chained Hand.
484 Jiln Beak and Pal, Private Detective-
433 Santa Fe fial, the Slit-her.
448 Deadwood Dick. Jr.
448 Nickel-Plato Nod; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’l Defiance.
458 Sunflower Sam, oi Shanta; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’l Full

and.
450 Flth Fan, the Fund; or, Deadwood Dick Jr'l Big Round-

405 I’liilo Fly, at Phenix; or, Deadwood. Dick Jr‘l Racket at
(‘l in IO.

47: deeman mu; or. Deadwood met Jr. Comii.

476 Humboldt Harry, the Hurricane; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’-
Dog Detective.

4711 Moll Myatesy; or, Deadwood Dick Jr. in Deadwood.

480 Seal-kin Ham. the Sparkier.

491 Prince I’latol, the King of the Welt; or, Deadwood Dick
.lr' (It in | art.

496 Mdnt’elériato, In; or, Deadwood Dick Jr‘a Inheritance.

500 Deadwood Dick’s Dininge ; or. Dr. Death-Grip’n Swoop.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

2 Yellow-tone Jack or, The Tra . .

48 Black John the RodLAgent; or. Tmomlaw’e Retreat.
5 Hurricane Bill; or. Multan: Sam and Hll Pam.

1T0 Multan: Samkon'l‘ho King of the Plaim.

186 Night-IIan it; or, The Daughter of the Ranch.

144 Dainty Lanes the Boy Sport.

151 l'anther Paul: or, Dainty Lance to the Roacue.

160 The Black Giant; or, Dainty Lance in Jcopnrdy.

108 Deadly Dth or ‘tghtiug Fire with Fire.

184 The Boy ’l‘rallera; or, Dainty Lanes on the War-Path.

203 The Do l’nrda; or, Dainty Lance Unmuka.

2|] Crook“ Cale, ilm ('nllban of Cole-tin] City.

810 The llarranoa Woli‘; or. The Beautiful Decoy.

81” The Black Rider; or,Tho Honoli‘hlevu’

885 Old Double Fi-t; or, 'Ihe Stranlo Guide.

5528 The kimr oi the Wood-9 or Uunai noone’a Lu! Trail.

‘49 Kit Fox. the Border Boy Detective.

 

BY COLONEL I’RENTISS INGRAHAM.

7 The Flying Yankee: or, Thu Ocenn Oliirnat.
17 Ralph to ', the lioy Buccnn or; or The Fugitive Yacht.
24 Diamond Der ' or, The Myst-my ofthe Yciiouatone.
62 The Nhudow Filip; or. The Rival Lirlilc'llflllll.
75 The Boy I’l’leilatz “1‘, The (Iruiae of the Sea-\Volf.
2 Dick Dead-Eve, the liin Snnlguier.
l The. Ben-Devil; or, The Middiilunan’a Legal-y.
6 The Honor Captain; or, The. lluimii. of Hell Gate.
’7 Little Grit; or, leksic, the Stork-Tundur’s Daughter.
04 Gold l’lume; or, The Kid-Glove Sport.
2|“ iii-on “III. the Prince ot the Reina.
222 Grit, the. Ilrnvo Sport; or, The Woman Trailer.
229 Crimuon Kate ° or, Tim anlmy'l Triumph.
287 Lone l'itnr, tin- énwhoy Captain.
245 Merle the Middy ;‘ or. The Freelanre Hair.
250 The Midahipmun l iutlneer; or. Brandt, the Buccaneer.
264 The Floating Feather; or, Merle Monte’e Treaauro

a and.

209 Tile Gold Ship; or, Merle, tho Condemned.

276 1:1,erlo Monte a Cruise; or, The Chane of “The Gold
I llll.

2930 Merle Monte’a Fate; or. Pearl, the l‘irnte’a Bride.

284 The Sea Marauder; or, Merle Monto'l Pledge.

287 Billy Blue-Eye», the lloy Rovrr «i the Rio Grande.

804 'l‘hl.l Dead Hhot Dandy; or, Benito, the Boy Buglor.

808 Reno Kit; or, hand shut llundy's Druihle.

814  Myaterioua Marauder; or, The Boy Bugler’l Long

I'iil o

377 Bonodei, the Boy Rover; or, The Fingien Schooner.

858 The Indian Pilot; nr, The Search for Pirate inland.

387 \Varpath W'ill, the Boy Phantom.

:9: [lien‘ralfl'zhe‘llny Lieutelmuh'

0 In or, t e 'ounz Cone rator or. The Fatal Lo 0.
401 The Boy Inn-urgent; ong‘he Cubnzn Vendetta. m
412 The Wild \‘ aehtaman; or. The win-mow. Cruiu.
429 Duncan Dare, the Boy Refugee.

433 A Cabin Bov’n Luck; or. The Comir.

432 The lien Raider.

441 The Oeoan Firefly; or, A Middy'a Vet-gran“.
446 Haphazard II any; or. The Scope race of the Sea.
450 \Vizard “fill; or, ‘he Boy Fen-o. 0 New York.
454 “’izard “' ill I Street Scouta.

462 The Horn Guide; or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.
468 Neptune Ned, the Buy Counter.

474 Flora; or, “'izard Will’l Vagabond Pard.

488 Fer-rota Afloat: or, \Vuard \i'ili'a [nut CI”.
4487 Nevada Ned, the RevoIVcr Rnnzer.

495 Arizona Joe ill? Buy Ford of Ten; Jack.

497 Back Taylor, King oi the Cowboy;

BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. “'11:. F. Cody).

8 Kan-3a King; nr, The Red Right “and.
19 The Phantom SPyx or, The Hint of the Prairie.
55 Deadly-Eye, the Jnknown Scout.
6% Border Robin Hood; or The Prairie Rover.
158 Fancy Frank of Colorado; or, The Tmpper’a 'l‘ruet.

BY CHARLES MORRIS.

118 Will Somcra, the Boy Drtoctlvo.

122 I'll" Hardy), the lion Buy.

126 l‘leayune etc; or, Nicmlemul, the Dog Dobolvo.

180 Detoetivo Dick; or. The Hero in Rap.

142 Handwome Harry, the Boothlack Detective.

147 \\ ill Wildfire, the ThorOughbrod.

152 Hiaek "can, Will Wildfire'l Racer.

157 Mike Merry, the Harbor Police Boy.

102 Will \" lldilre in the Woode.

165 Billy Baggage. the Railroad 801.

170 A Trump ‘ard; or, Will Wild ro Wine and lace.

174 Bob Rocket“ or, Myth-riot 0! New York.

179 Bob Roek'ett the Bank Runner.

188 The Hidden Hand ior, Will Wildflre‘a Revenge.

187 Fred Halyard, the lie Boat Boy; or. The Smugglers.

159 Bob Rockett; or, Driven to the Wall.

196 Sliadowed or, Bob Rnckott‘l Fight for Life.

206 Dark I’au the Tiger King.

212 Dauhing Dave, the Dandy Detective.

220 Tom Tanner or The B nck Sheep oi the Flock.

225 Sam Chareoa the Premium Darky.

285 Shadow Sam. the Memnger Boy.

242 The Two “ Blood. ”; or, Shenandoah Bill and Hie Gang.

252 Diek Daehaway; or, A Dakota Boy in Chicago.

2 2 The Young Sleutha; or, Rolllekiug Mike’s Hot TraiL

’74 Jolly Jim, the Detective Ar rontlcu.

289 Jolly Jim a Job; or, The ouuz Detective.

298 The “'ater-Hound; or, The Young Thorouxhbrod.

805 Danhuway, 01' Dakota; or, a Waters: Lad in the Quaker
v,

I y.

.24 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Detective.

841 Tony Thorne, the Vagabond Detective.

858 The Reporter-Detective; or, Fred Flyer'l Blimrd.
867 \v i(|(-..,\wakc Joe; or, A Boy otthe Tim“.

379 Larry, the Leveier; or. The Blood: of the Boulevard.
408 Firefly Jack, the River-Rat Data-tin.

428 The Lost Finger; or, The Entrappod Cuhlor.

428 Fred Fiver. t a Reporter Detective.

482 Invinelb e Lo an, the Pinkerton Ferret.

456 Hill!) Hriek. t e Jolly Vagabond.

406 \VI o-Awnke Jerry, Detective; or, Entombed Alive.
479 Detective Dod e; or, The Myltory oi Frank Hearty
488 “ ild Dick Rae ct.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

11 The Two Detective-f or. The Fortnnea oia Bowery, Girl.
78 A,be“_Colt, tho Crow~Ki ler; or, The Great Fighting [an at
1. lo cal.
79 Sol Ginger. tile GluntTrappar.
288 Joe Buck of Angela and Illa Boy Paul.
447 New York 5.1., A Tale of Trichl and Traps in anthem.
458 New En land h iek; or. The Fortunes of. Fondling.
464 Nimble lek, the Circul Prince.
493 Tom Ted, tue Arilonn Sport.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

6 Bill Biddon, 'l‘raFKor.
8 Seth Jonea; or. e Captive: oi the Frontier.
10 Nat Todd: or, The Fate of the Sioux Cnptivo.
21 The Frontier Angel.
98 The Boy Mint-re; or, The Enchanted inland.
182 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Homman.
254 The Ilaif-lilood; or, Th» Panther ni’the Plainl.
271 The Huge Hunter; 0!, Th. Steam Prairie Man.

 

BY OLL COOMES.

5 Vagabond Joe, the Young Wandering Jew.
18 The Dumb Spy. ' '
27 Antelo e Abe, the Boy Guide.
81 Keen-knife, the Prime of the l‘rairiel.
41 Lani-o Jaek, ihr, Young Nulianger.
58 The “or-dun King: or, The Secret Fee.
71 Delaware ilk-k, the Young R‘Jltel’ Spy.
74 Hawk-eye Harr ‘, the Yomuz Tllppel' Boga.
88 Rollo, t 0 Boy I uncer-
184 Sure h‘hot Seth, the Boy Rifleman.
148 Bear-Fare San], the Silent Hunter.
146 Silver Star, the 1303‘ Klkht.
158 Louie Kit. the Boy Dalton.
108 Little Texan, the Youn Mia-tang".
178 Old Holitury, the ilerm tTra per.
182 Little Hurricane, th-v Bo ahptaln.
202 ’lfroafieet Pete; or, The onnz Outlaw Hunt“
203 lhe 0y Herculea; or, The Prairie Tampa
218 ’l iuer 'loln, the Ten. Terror.
224 Daahin Dick; or, Trapper Tom’a Cutie.
223 Little \ ildiire, the Young Prairie Nomad.
288 'l he I’areon Detective; or The Little W.
248 The Dir-unlined Guide; or, lt'ild Raven, the Ran...
260 Dare-Devil Dan, the Young Prairie Ranger.
272 Mlnkakiu Mike, the Boy sharpthootor.
290 Little Foxfire, the Boy Spy,
800 The Sky Demon ; or, Rnlnbolt, the W.
884 Whip-king Joe, the Bov Ranchero.
409 llerculen or. Dick. the Boy Ranger.
417 Webi‘oot one. the Tramp Detective.
422 Bab Sam. the Boy Giant oi the Yellowstone.
444 Litt e Ruck-kin, lilo Young Prairie Conn
457 “'ingedi'oot Fred; or. Old I'olar Saul.
468 Tamarae Tom, the Big Tufipor Boy.
4715 Old Tom Rattler. the Red lver Epidemic.
482 Stonewall Bob, the Boy Train.

BY '1‘. C. HARBAUGH.

25 Nick 0’ the Night; or, 'l'llr Boy Spy oi "it.
87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Littlv Hunter.
47 Nighfln “lg hat’i‘ or, The Porut Ca taint.
64 Hand Jack; or, he Outlaw- of the a
82 K11. I arefoot tho VVood—Hnwh.
94 Midnight Jae-kt or, The lloy Trapper.
106 Old Froaty, lho ‘uide; or, The White Queen.
123 Klown Charley the “Finite Muatnnger.
189 Judfe L ‘neh, Jr.t or. The Buv Viziianio.
155 (i011 Tr q er, the srm; or, The Girl Avenpr.
169 Tornado om; or, njnn Jack From Red Con.
183 Ned Temple, the Border lloy.
19" Arkanaaw; or, The Quwn oi Fate'l Rove-p.
207 Navajo Nick, the Boy Gold Hunter.
215 (‘nptuiu Bullet; on Little Topknot'l Crusade.
231 l'lueky PM]; or. Rona, the Re | Juebol.
241 Bill liravo; or, The Rough. ui the Rockies
255 ('aptaln Apoll , the King-Pin oi Bowie.
2 7 The Huck-kin Deteetlve.
279 Old “'lneh; or, The Buck-kin Desperado“.
294 Dvnumlie Dan; or, The Bowie Blade of Coehoupa.
802 The Mountain Detective; or, The Trigger Bar Bony;
816 Old liellpae, Trump Card of Ariaona.
820 The Ten l’ardayvr. The Terror ol Take-Notice.
886 “in Benaon; or, in; Queen oi the La no.
545 l’itlleu Matt; 0', Red 'l‘humlorholl'a Secret.
855“ "mil Sam and i’arl'; o The Terrible Six.
886 Velvet Foot, the indiu Detective.
Bail Captain Cutlaaa; or, line ll- ccuneor'l Girl Poe.
590 Rough Rob or. The i win Champions of lllue Bin...
411 The. Filken im; mm:- Rouommu '
41% Felix Fox, the Roy S tter.
425 Texan Tram , the rder Rattler.
430 Phil Fla-h tie New York Fox.
445 The on lineman or, m Rnlte'ui’lloom
401 One A a not Fifty; or, The Lut Man of Keno 3-.
470 The i oy shadow; or, Felix Fox'e Hunt.
477 The I‘lxeelnior Hport 0". The Wuhingtoa w.
499 Single Sight, the One- yod Sport.

IY PHILIP S. WARNE.

61' PatentpLeather Joel 0". 01d Rattle-lake, the Gums.
175 (Jaye-In Ariaona; or, Patent-Leather Joe‘n Big Gama.
198 Captain Meek; or Patent-Leather Joo'a Defeat.

219 Deapard, the Due int; 0r. The Mountain Vampiiu.
558 A Ton 11 Boy! 0": Th0 Dwari'a Revenge.

868 Little ornadoi 0". The Outcuu o! the Glen.

878 Little JInIo; or. "'0 Queer Pard.

588 Little "ll-Ill! "f. Cnuklvt in His Own Trap.

401 Little “1100- l! x or. A Race for a Ranch.

408 Little Leather-l root-hen; or. Old Jumbo'eOu-u.
481 Little Ah Sin: 01', 11w Curae oi Blood.

451 Colorado Rate. A Tale oltho Mince.

480 Tiara. Jolly Parda.

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

600 Deadwood Diok’a Di n or Doctor Death-Grip’I'
Swoon. By Edward L. wfifih‘" '

501 Boota, the Boy Fireman ; or, Too Sharp tor the Sharper,
By Chnrlel Morris.

50’ Branded Ben, the Night Ferret; or, The Octopue Length of
how York. By 1'. C. Harhaugh.

508 The Ro al Middy; or, The Shark end the Sea Cat. 3,
Col. Prent u Ingrahaiu.

504 Five Pointa Phil. the Pavement Prince; 01” Clught in tho
Spldor‘a Web. Ily Jo Pierce.

505 I’owell‘a Pard; or, The Ono-Arm“ Gilnb 3] Maj. H. B.
Stoddard, Ex-Scout.

506 Red" ht Ralph, the Prince of the Road. [3,- J. c_ Cow,
drink. Tleudy April 5.

50? The Hunted MId-hlpmuni of. TM Young so. mg“.
By Col. l’rentieo lngrahnm. Ready April H.

d Dlek'n Deliverance; or 1? 11-
508 “'heelar. Randy April 19. ’ “‘1 “uh”

509 Jack Jafiterfi. the Butcher Boy Detective. By Jo Pig...
Ready Apri ‘16-

510 Cool Colorado, the Hall-BM Dean". B, Alb“ w.
Aiken. Ready May 3.

A New Iaaue Every Tue-day.
The flair-Dime lerll’! ll for Iale by all newsdoakl'l, 2'.
cents per wpy, or sent by mail on receipt or “X “I”. “Ch.

BEADLE AND ADAMS, Publlahera.
98 William Street. New Yuri»