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Jll IIHII sum-t .. surname

 

Corrnmn'r, 1879. m' BEADLE 8: ADAMS.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . l . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - - . - . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . l . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . - . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

1  _Published Every
no I [If  Month.

Sol Ginger,

THE GIANT TRAPPER;
O
The Flowor 021m Blackteet.
BY ALBERT W. AIKEN

7
AUTHOR or “run TWO DETECTIVES," “ABE
COLT, THE CROW-KILLER,” ETC., m3.

 

 

CHAPTER I.

THE EXPEDITION INTO THE BLACKFOOT COUN'
TRY.

ON a bright afternoon in the month of June,
almost all the inhabitants of the frontier post
knownas Fort Benton, and located on the upper
Missouri gathered on the bank of the river to
watch t e approach of the
first steamer of the season,
through from St. Louis.

 

 

(JAMES SULLIVAN. Pnornm'rom.
379 Pearl Street. New York.

l__,m. *4»I-_..‘_. _ _, . . .v

three thousand mounted warriors into the

' field.

It has got to be the fashion among the “ spe-
cial corres )ondents” of the daily newspapers,
who make ‘ kid-glove ” journeysto the frontier,
to write sneering accounts of the red-skins—of
“ Mr. L0,” as they term the savage; to say that
they want courage, and that they could be
easin crushed out, should the overnment bring
its strong hand to bear upon t em. These reh-
able writers pick out some drunken. vagabond
Indian, hanging around the settlements, his
senses steeped in bad whisky, and they hold him
up to the gaze of the ublic as a sample of the
American Indian! hl away with such de-
ce tionl

me, messieurs, who are termed “ special
corres ndents,” but who, one half the time,
could 9 more aptly termed “. ~ial story-tell-
ers ”——bu 9. Henry rifle, a goor navy revolver,
one of Co t’s tine weapons, a hardy Indian pony,

PRICE 5 CENTS.
50c. a year.

and take a gallop with me, three hundred mils
north-west from Cadotte’s Pass, up the valley
of the Flathead river, right into the country of
the Blackfeet—the nation that as yet have
never yielded a single inch of their soil to the
tread of the white man’s foot—a tribe that
laugh to scorn the power of the “blua
coated chiefs,” as they term the United
States soldiers. In this trip we may encounter
danger; nay, more, we shall encounter it; we
shall owe our lives to the speed of our ho

the surenem of our shots, and the distance that
a good Writing rifle Will carry.

And onsieur Correspondent will return;
convinced that the American Indian will flgh
after all, and that he can not be “wiped out,”
to use our frontier phrase, as easily as is gene.
rally sup sed. But to return to our story.

On the urricane deck of the Mountain Belle
stood two men, side by side. They were dress-

 

ed roughly—big boots drawn on over their

nts, and broad—brimmed
ats pulled down over the'l'
brows in the western fashion.

 

On came the “Mountain
Belle,” the A 1 “stern-
wheeler,” which, for many
weary weeks to her impatient
passengers, had plowed her
way thrgiigh the tulrfbid 31:,-
ters o 9 great isso
the “Mad River of the
North ” on her 11 ward pas-
sage Fort enton, the
head of navigation on the
Missom‘i.

A motley crowd were col-
lected on the bank, waiting
the approach of the steamer.
Here and there among the
throng might be seen the
blue uniforms of Uncle Sam’s
bovs, the garrison of the fort:
si e by side with them, a
swarthy red-skin, decked out
inhunting ' and le '3
of deer-skin, or wrappeggu‘ina
coarse red blanket, a though
the sun’s rays were pouring
dewn with torrid flercenem;
the woolen-shirted emigrant,
seeking for life and fortune
in the Far West; the hardy
frontier-men,the “ guides ” of
the prairie wilderness—in
fine, all the claws that go to
make up the life of our far
western villages, were con.
gregated on the bankof the

river.

The pawn of the
steamer, too. iii gathered
in little knots, on the for-
ward parts of the boat, and
were very rly survey-
ing the scene fore them
the starting-%int to many of
a new life. ere they were
to cast aside the comforts of ,
civilization, and dare the .
waste of
the home of the Crown, the
fiercemaraudersofthenorth—
west; the land of the anew

 

wildernes, L ’

 

 

 

CMBIIH their.”
like-awkwa-

 

But, their hands and faces,
though bronzed by the re s
of the sun and tanned by t e
prairie winds, yet showed no

marks of toil. One of the
two was a man no longer
/ young; flft years had rob-
ably over his cad,

et time had touched him
at lightly. Hisdark-brown

hair, cut short and brushed
back from his temples, show-
ed no silver locks. His face
was massive and full; a
broad forehead and square-
cut chin, the chin half hid by
a short, brown beard, gave
it weight and finnness; his
eyes were ay, bright and
full; his g ance keen and
penetrating. He was one of
those men who ccmmand re-
s ect men from strangers.

is companion was a young
man not over twenty-five, a
handsome, dashing-lookin
fellow; jet-black hair curl
in little rin lets all erer his
Shapely, we l-formr-z he“
His eyes were blar . .:' r.- his
hair; aismallcéanu 11.! .r, am}:
im ria  lls/ : '1':
chm: thegzvliol' Ut‘» inl'l 2+
laughing,deviI w 
about it, as though  V 3*
felt disposed to 98% ‘
world as it came. 3110 "
light of trouble.

These two men, thcugh
now up _ ntl fast friends
and he ding c ose converse
together, before that mom-
in had never ken tone):
at r, althoug they had r‘
. been travelers together from

St. Louis. A chance oboe“
vation from the elder to the
ounger in relation tot
way being nearly at
and, and theiracqnain
W: has: we find h

 

 

1‘11‘.::1:<:.. .z,‘,.-__

   
 

'

' American life—u

ii: hesaid,

- Mounds-am h Csdotte’s Pals,

    

3 

.Beadie’s ""Haififliéme Biliary.-

 

L

" Do on stay in Fort Benton?” asked the
elder o the two, who was called Roderick
Wright of the ounger, who answered to the
name 0  ‘ourtney.

“No, I sha push forward to the mines, as
soon as 1 can find a train to journey with.”

“Have you decided what mines you will try
your fortune at?” asked. Wright.

“ N 0, it’s all one to me,” carelessly answered
the other. “I shall go with the first party that
start, no matter which way they journey. You
sec, l’m a rolling stone and it don’t make much
difference where I settle down.”

“ Have you. ever been in this part of the
country before?” asked the elder of the two.

“Yes, once. A year ago I went through to
Olympia, by the upper trail, with a party of
emigrants. I went for the fun of the thing
then. I had lenty of money and wished to see
the country; mt now-—” and here the speaker
hesitated, and for a moment a cloud came over

face. -
“ Well, what now?” asked the other, looking
nto the young man’s face curiously: then no-
ticing the limitation of Courtney, he spoke ab-
ruptly: “ I beg pardon for my questions; I have
no Wish to pry into our affairs, and—”

“Oh, it’s not the l” cried Courtney. “I’ve
nothin to conceal, but-well, I may as well tell
you of about it. I don’t know how it is, but
some way- or another I’ve taken a liking to Iyl’ou;
and, besides, it relieves a man’s mind to to his
troubles—not that I’ve had much trouble in my
life. 'Six months ago, my father, who was a
commission merchant in St. LOlllS, died very
suddenly, and on winding up his affairs I dis
covered that, instead of possessing an estate of
fifty or a hundred thousand dollars, my father
was bankrupt- at the time of his death, and left
me nothing. Being an only son, and my mother
dying in my infancy, my father had made a
pet o rue—brought me up as a
at his death I was thrown upon e world help-
less. The old lawyer who settled up my father’s
estate, and who ad known me from my bog-
hood, asked me what I was ing todo’? f
course I answered that I n’t the remotest
idea. He then ofl'ered me the loan of a hundred
dollars, and so gested that I had better take the
first boat for ort Benton, and try my luck at
the mines. I accepted the offer with thanks.
My story’s ended, and now you know wh I
stand here to-dayoon the hurricane-deck of he
Mountain Belle, und for the gold mines and a
fortune.” ‘ D -

“Your history is a iced illustration of our

to y and down to-mor-
row” rammed right; ‘but it’s a strange co-

' nee-—
m“‘W’hat?” asked Courtney. ‘ ‘
‘5 Why, if I understand you rigihatly, 91: grid
ounfmn 9

here to- ay on the deck of the
without a clear idea where you are going or
whatyouare ingtodo.” 7
“ Y exact £1,” answered the youndg man.
“Will, I’m the same .fix,” sai Wright,
with 'a quiet smile. '
‘“ Indeed!” cried Courtney.

“ Yes, I don’t exactly know where I’m 0mg
orwhat I’m in to do, yet at the same thus
have a. clear y eflned plan in my head oy
means of which I‘ expect to make, at the least
calculation, upward of fifty thousand dol-

The one man mat the speaker in
astonisgmeng. g

“ That’sra large sum,” he exclaimed.

.“Y but I expect to o it sure, and I’ve

. ‘ mfofla few hundred dollars to-work on. I

dn’t know where I was go' - when I
said that L'meant I didn’t know cone 1, where
I was going, for I do know the direction." Here
phospoaker pulled onto! his hate. mail m
of the Western States and orntories. ".9 8
lacigg his finger on the little black

art Baotou, “ do. you notice the
303.1th fortify fine
a leodopengil, lotlégerom Fort

south, c
then t.

y“ west on it struck the south fork of
tho thead river, went. a little south of the
We! and there stopped. at them! Of “lilo;

;.  ~. Lad men. made, and they
- . .l't‘ '~ , . .
“  T “Court” .- “Isee the
.1}: allows. tile  but m“ 
v. m up.) . I

evidently , ’
Benton west by

“

cntleman; so, '

   

 

“ll-1; hi. I .'r ., V .l I too " .
my, my: bu’m  -
firm y an w, ‘ " j: -. . >- ' ' _,

 

«musing , j 7' ~."

    

:zkpect to make your fifty thousand dollars?”
ed Courtney. ‘

“Yes,” answered Wright, with a quiet smile.

“I get the ideal" exclaimed the young man,
suddenly. “You know of some esold mine up
there that has not yet been work , and out of
that mine you intend to make your money.”

“You are partly right and partly wrong:
answered Wright. “ ave never been in '
section before, and I do not know of any gold
mine; yet I know of a certain somethin , in the
Blackfoot country somewhere, that, i I can
only find and c to St. Louis with me, will
be wgrth to me, w on there, fifty thousand dol-
are.

“I can’t guess your riddle,” said the young
man after a moment’s thought; “so I give it
up, but, I wish you success in your under-

“ hhat do you say to going with me?” asked

ri t. I

“ hat, go with on?” uestioned Courtney in
astonishment. y q '

“Yes. You have saidthat you haven’t any
settled plan as to what you will do; join me
then' I need just such a man as you, for the ef-
fort for the treasure I am about to steal from
the Indians will probably be resisted to the
death by every red devil that claims kindred
with the Blackfoot nation.” ‘

“ There is danger, then?” asked Courtney.

“Plenty of it; we shall risk our top-knots ev-
ery hour after we are fift miles northward
from Elk City,” answered Vi right.

“But, if you succeed, you gain fifty thousand
dollars?”

6‘ Yes.” I

“Well,” said Courtne ', after a moment’s
pause, “ it’s worth the ris I.”

" And if I succeed, and you join me, of course

.I’ll give you ten thousand dollars,”'said Wright,

quietly.
“ ou will?” cried Courtney, in amazement. '

“ Yes: is it a bargain?”

“‘You betl’ as a Californian would say,”
cried Courtney, extending his hand.

“You will Join my ex tion, then, after
this something, worth fifty thousand dollars?”
asked Wri ht, taking Courtney’s hand.

“Yes; 111 with on to the death 2” answered
Courtney; “thoug what you are going to find
up in the Blackfoot .country worth fift thou-
sand dollars unless it’s a gold mme, can’t

ess.

“Never mind; I know well ,what I seek,” said
Wright, “and you may rest assured that I am
pret sure of succeeding, else I should not risk

in e. ”
“ XDo you and I form the whole party?” asked

the young man. .

“ b, no 1” said Wright. “I know nothing
whatever of the Indian country and very little
of Indian «dating, of which we shall rebany
have Plenty fore we get through wit our ex-
pedit o . intend to procure a couple of guides,
men who know the upper region are used a,
the ' ways. Our mission must succeed by
cunning, not by force; therefore we need skillful
glide):t who (an pilot us through, right into the

as

w v“ afield?“ d rty will be
our a so one' our
asmall one than!” 8 ' ' pa

“Yes; four or five only, not more; two or
three des will be suficient—careful, rudent
men. ’d like .to at hold of some old upper,
some 0 - e w w o o s ecoun

shrer ld f o , h kn w th try
thoroughly.” 1 'l - ’

“ B’y Jove l” cried Courtney, I know the very

man.
“ You do?” exclaimed Wright. v _ . .
“ Yes; an old fellow I met when I was through
here about a year ago.” , -
“ Who is he?” . ' .
“ They ‘ call him Sol, the Trapper; he’s a

quaintlookinghold fellow, stands about six feet“

high and has e longest pair of legs that I‘ever
saw on mortal man. In fact, I eve the'ln-
dians call, him ‘ Longiegs;’ he’s a u at, civil old
codger, .a great contrast to the usual blustering
frontier-man.” ' . . , ‘

“ He’s .the man, then; I Judge, for our pur.
P056 "said Wrigh ,’ - ,

“ Yea! should think he would suit’.” 1 V

“Does he know the Blackfoot spunky?” -,_.,
« “Likes book,” answered ey. “He‘s'a
trapper. as his name signifies, and his field- of

     

  

.mopsnflomnimp  thoFlav thead_ 7 ~ rivet-and, its
games!  ' sysadmin, , .
4- .° 6 ‘ get him. M03199”?

mm.       

‘ He “ H- -

oot country and yetxkeep us out of the-

 

~

fl 1.

—something singular in these frontier-men, who.
generally value an Indian’s life with that of a
mad-dog. He refused to 'with our‘party be~
cause the Blackfeet were , om,
against the settlements and ‘he tha we
were a large garty and bloodshed con not be
avoided, and edidn’t wish to. have any man’s
blood upon his soul if he could‘help-it.” .  ,
“Isn’t the man a coward?” ' 4 _
“That’s exactly whataomeof our rty asked,
but one of the uides w -Wc he engaged to
go With us lung ed at the ideal; "£0 use his own
words, ‘Old 801 could, whip lgs weight in wild-
cats any day in thew , When he ‘got sturtcd.’
As I take it, it’s a whim orabis not to shed hu~
ntiz’m blood, white or, red, it'th can live without
l . - '  ~...
“And yet,” mm W ht, thoughtfully “if he
traps on the Flathéagiver he must ,‘on’countei
the ”Blackfoot- Indians, for .it is in their own.

ti y. .,
“Very likely ” retain)?” _ curiney' “ but 11 ’
probably cunning enoug 3) keep olit of thfil

\vay'"

‘ He’s the man then for me, if he’ll only con-
sent to go with us.”

“I think he’ll go, provided we assurehin) that
we want to avoid encountering the savages if
possible.” .

“ Of course,” res ended Wright, “we must
steal our treasure; zut if the treasurexetuws to
go we must carry it away' I force-4’ 

“ f the treasure refused? cried Cour-tile , in
amazement} “ The treasure you speak of, t ion,
is alive and has a voico in the matter (”

“Yes; but the, will or voice of the treasure
will have little wei ht With me, PDCO it is With—
in 1ny power,”  TI‘Ilglfll': . gazm (it his com-
panion with one of his peculiar be ling smiles.

“ Well, I must contess I don’t understand
what it can be!” said Courtney.

“ Have patience, and by the time we strike
the Flathead river, you shall know my plans as
well as I do myself.”

“I suppose I shall have to rest satisfied with
that assurance.” -

“But, are you certain that we shall be able
to find this Sol the Trapper, on our arrival
here?” question Wright. ‘

“ Very httlo doubt a out that; it’s just about
the time_he brings 'in his peltrics, and if he
hasn’t arrived yet, all we have to do is to wait
for him.”

W‘flBufi suppose 'he has come and goneif’ asked

n .

“ 0 fear of that; he ‘nerally is 's oil? a month
or so after each trip for rest. I link we shall
be certain to find him.”

“11101)6 .80..” answered Wright, ',“for, from
your descrlfition, he’s the very man I want.”

“ I think 6’11 fill the bill; but see, we’re mak-
ing a landing.” And as he spoke the steamer
ran its bow on the shore, and the loudwhistie
rmgmgput clear on the rairie air, reclaimed
i123 iarrival of the first t throng from St.

u s.

The mnglers soon min led with the'c-rowd
on the , t is news from t e East was eagerly
asked ,for and the newspapers brought by the
boat figfldy Semed by the impatient throng.

As 811$ 811d Courtney descended ‘ from the
hurric e-deck. and entered the mainfsaloon,
they pan, for a moment in front of the bar of
the boat, where a thirsty throng were eagerly
drinking, taking the raw whisky down with true
western gusto. At a little distance from the
drinkers stood an Indian, wrapped from head
to foot in a coarse red blanket while a battered
white hat crowned hls_head. ll‘he red-skin sur-
veyed the thirsty imbibers with an envious air.
Evidently be panted for the “ fire-water,” winch
his face and gait plainly told he had drank too
much of alreadg: . ‘ ‘. ~.

“ Lot us in_ u e of one of those fellows if old
so] ism,” sax urtney. .

“Very well; do so.”

. Courtney approached a rough-looking fellow
in adirty flannel Shirt and a slouch but, who
had just tossed down a lass Of Whisky, of, the
“ tauglefoot ” brand. an was smacking his lips
iat the flavor of the fiery beverage.

* “Can an tell me if Sol, the Trapper, is in
town?” ourtney asked. .

“ Stranger, you’ve get mol” exclaimed the
man add “ Never hrerd tell on him. 1.
don’t live round this hyer ranch any way.
I’m just in from the Missouri .”~ _ .‘
‘ Courtney felt a hand laid upon his (boulders.
Turning, be contributed thalndien in the uhitc
  ' "m. ; I ‘ ' .

.Jd

339"!"  ' 

3.1.2:?!“ 563* s?

'4

war- h .r

.. a...“ N...“ -._.‘._ «

 

  
     

M

h

vs chief fire-water—rum—want to see Old

80 -—s’ you come, you see!” And the sav-

wmut waiting for a reply, immediately

fitbe way with an uncertain, heavy step,
down the s  - '

“Shall we go? asked '_,Courtney of his com-

on.

“Yes; he evidently knows where the trapper
is to be found.”

80, down the stairway after the drunken In-
dian who had proclaimed his namotobe “ Mud-
hole,” and had asserted his right to be a reat
chief, went Courtney the adventurer, and od-
erick Wri ht, the man with the iron will, who
sought a ivmg treasure, worth fifty thousand
dollars, in the country of the Blackfeet.

CHAPTER II.
rm: GIANT TRAPPER.

THE savage led the way over the gan -plank
to the shore. Wri ht and Courtne f0 lowed.
The bank gained, t 0 Indian pause for a mo-‘
ment till the two whites came up.

“ White chief find Longlegs—give Indian rum
--u I)?” asked the chief, on rly.

“ es ” answered Wri h ; “go ahead.”

“ Mu ole bi chief. ’pose you come.” And
on went the In ian, while the whites followed in
his track. .

The red-skin led the way u the bank through
the town past the fort, and finally stopped at a
small whitewashed shanty, that stood apart
from the other houses on'the outskirts of the
village. Arriving at the door of the shanty, the
sava e stopped.

“ Id Sol wigwam—ugh—rum!” and the sav-
age extended his hand.

“ Call him,” said Wright, suspecting that the
Indian had misled them, and promised what he
was unable to perform, in order to obtain the
coveted rum.

“Ugh! Chief no like Old 801! Big stick——
Wallop Mudhole when chief drink ruin. Rum
good—stick bad—chief no like stick, heap ."’

“ It is evident that this Indian is a hanger-on
to Old Sol, and that the tra per thrashes him
when he indulges in whisky.’ said Courtney.

“It would seem so; but, the fellow may be
lying,” replied Wright.

“ t‘iivetlndian rum?” questioned the savage,

en .
Hulk)!” broke in a save 0 voice and the
door of the shanty opened su denly, disclosing
to View the figure of a man standing about six
feet high, an of a broad and powerful build,
attired in a huntin -shirt and leggins of deer-
s in, the color of w ch had once en yellow,

t now was stained and discolored to a dirty
brown. The shirt and leggins had seen hard
service, too as the many rents and tears, now
neat! patchedwith particolored pieces, roved.
The ace of the man was a strange one: is nose
was lar , hooked like an eagle’s beak; evident-
ly it h been broken by some heavy blow. His
eyes were a dark blue in color—so dark that at
first lance they would be called black' his hair
was ri ht red in hue and was cropped tight to
hisheatf. A thin red beard covered the long,
gifted chin. High cheek-bones, with the skin

wn tightly over them, and you have the pen-
picture of 801 Ginger, the Giant Trapper gene-
rally called by the whites " Old 801,” and hy the
red-skins “Longle ”—‘the man who had trap (1
over every inch 0? ound from the Snake ver
on the South to the river of the North; the
man, too who feared to shed human blood-—
who would rather go ten miles out of his way
than slay a red-skin brave, but who was known
throughout the mountain region as the best shot,
the roughest rider, and the keenest woodman

 

im

that ever tra ' a beaver or put a ball through
a mountain at a hundred ces.
“ Drunk ag’in, by hockey !’ cried the trapper,

as his e es fell u n the face of the redoubtable
Mudho e, who sad blinking like an owl, in a.
vain attem t to ap sober.

“Mudho e big c iefl No like rum heap!”
stammered the savage in defense. .

“ You he, you drun en cuss you l” exclaimed
the trapper. “ Rum! it’s mother’s milk to you,
you long-1e ed son of a ine tree! Do on
s’pose I’m go 11’ to tote roun any sich whis -
tubes you air, dod rot you?” cried the trapper,

mdignantl .

The India hung his head sheepishly at this
torrentof words.

“White chief want see Old Sol,” said Mud-
hole. endeavorin to turn the trapper’s atten-
“téfa’ms‘éitflifi “film” i m...

n a .
“Who in thunder air ydum’ on so, you

’lsan son of a skunk you? I My name’s Solomon

. ms 'dod rot you?” ' '

egl big‘ehisfl HmpfightPsdd‘the‘

'Nay, more I shall

 

Sol Ginger.

savage, thinking by the complimont to appease
the angry trapper.

“You mud-colored heathen, your own legs
air a hea sight longer nor mine. You’ll ’scuse
me, out emen but this ’ere Indian’s enough to
rile t e stomac of a dead b’ar. He’s the most
ornery cuss you ever' heerd tell on. In two
minutes arter he strikes a settlement he’s as
drunk as an eel in a pot,” said the tra per,
turning to the two strangers; “but, we] ' in,
strangers. Ef you want to see 801, the Trapper,
I s‘pect I’m the man, as the law ers say, to the
best of my knowledge and belie .”

“If you are Sol, the Trapper you are the
very man we want to see,” said Wright.

“Wal, come into my ranch, strangers, an’
you, you durned; copper-colored, no—soulcd crit~
ter you, of I ketch you hangin’ uplby the nose
round any rum-shop, you an’ I cry quits.
J es’ en bear that in mind.”

“ udholo big chief. Fight rum—enemy!”
said the drunken savage.

“Jes’ so; though an Injun, you foller the
Scripters, don’t ye? ‘Love yer enemies,’ you
mutton-headed son of a rattlesnake?”

And with this parting salutation hurled at the
offending chief the trap )er led the wa into
his shanty. I right an Courtney fo owed;
the Indian stretched himself out before the door,
despite the hot beams of the sun pouring down
upon him.

The interior of the trapper’s abode was as
plain as the outside. The furniture consisted
of a little pine table, a common rocking-chair
and half a dozon boxes of various sizes, tha
served as tables and closets, and held the sim-
ple cooking-utensils of the hunter. In one cor—
ner stood a Hour?r repeating rifle, splendidly
ornamented with si ver on the stock; in another,
one of the old-fashioned rifles, with a-burrel of
srodigious length, and carrying a ball of a hun-

red to the pound. Suspended from a nail by a
Cord was a buck-horn handle hunting—knife,
long, broad, heavy and sharp—no child’s play-
thing for holida use, but the forest won on,
keen and true. anging to nails on the we Is in
various ilaces, were the traps of Old So], the
tools of is trade, the deadly agents that had
taken the life of many a beaver and muskrat by
the side of the swift-flowing rivers of the great
North-West.

“Sit down, strangers,” said the tra per after
they had entered the shanty. “I iainlt got
much furniture, ’cos you see my home is the
wilderness. I rough it thar, an’ in course I
rough it hyer too.”
boV right and Courtney sat down upon the

xcs.
“Wal what is it? S’pose I’m open fur a
trade,” s’aid Sol.
“ I wish to make an excursion into the Black-
foot country. In fact, go up thedvaflgyiof the
i e.

Flathead river and I wish a 11 you
scoop: the position?” asked Wright.
“ hat on airth do you want up thar?" asked

Sol, in amazement.
‘_That’s in secret,” replied Wright, with a
smile. “W you gowith me?”
“ Wal, I don’t know. How many he thar in
ur party?” asked the trapper.
: Two only; my friend here and myself.”
‘Andr’you want to go into the Blacldoot

 ”

“But, creation! it’s almost certain death.
Don’t you known stranger, that the Blackfeet
are deadly enemies to the whites?” asked the
Giant trapper.

_“Yes, know that; but still, I wish to go
right into the heart of the Blackfoot country.
_ probably have to penetrate
secret] into their Villa es.”

“ I t inkI git your idee: ou want a
havin’ to fight the Injuns ever step.’

“ That’s my idea exactly. have been told
that you know the country well, and are a pm-
dent careful man—one not inclined to run
needlessly into danger. Understand me, I wish
to av01d encountering the savages if unsible.
My errand must be successful through cunning,
not through force.”

" You a n’t arter a gold mine, air you?” asked
the hunter sudden] .7 -

“ No,” answered Wright.

“ ’Cos, if on were, I wouldn’t stir a dad-rot-
ted step. ar’s gold ’nough now in the world,
’nough to make half the people that gits it imps
of Satan.”

“ Be assured itis not gold but something else I

,“ Jes’ so: some friend of yourn has been cap-
tivated b the Blackfeet, an’ you want to find
out whet er they are dead. mauve.”

. J

/ v ‘ , A";

do,
that kin carry you through t e country wi bout

 

    

L I

wht started; the shrewd trapper had lid!
gu his secret.

“ Yes; on have guessed the truth. Will you
go as gui e?”

“ Sartin "replied thetra r, quickly. “Glen
I won’t hold back when a e ler-critter’s in dan-
ger. When I do, you kin jist take the hide
ri ht 011‘ me, an’ tan it for moccasins.

_‘What will the service be worth?” naked
Wrifht.

“ ’ll tell you better when we git back; but
mind, now, we ain’t to do any fighting of we kin
help it. You see, it goes ag’in’ my grain to
shfid bl’ood, human blood, whether t’s red or
w ite.

“We are not ea or to run into danger,” re-
plied Wright; “bu , would it not be as well to
take another mountain man with us? My
friend and I know vei little of woodcraft.”

“ Sartin, an’ I’ve go jist the man.”

“ You have?”

“ Fact, by liookey!” cried the trapper. “ That
drimken Injun, Mudhole, fotched you up hyer,
didn’t be?”

H Yes. ”

“ He’s the very identical critter that we want
to go along with us.” '

‘ What, that drunken brute?” cried Court'
no .

XJes’ so: but he don’t get drunk arter he
leaves the settlements. He’s the best guide that
ever follered a trail. Nai foot of sile ’tween
hyer an’ the Lake of the V ’oods that he don’t
know jist as well in the darkness as in the light.
He’s been a partner of mine now, nigh onto
three years. picked him ufihyer in Fort Ben-
ton, ’bout three vears ago. e d come to to
got drunk, an’ been beat almost to death by
some of the river-men. I took him home hyer;
cured him, an’ he’s follered me like a dog eve!
since. Ef I could only keep him away fret
the cussed whisky, I wouldn t ask for a bettet
critter; but when the durned rum gets in“
him he ain’t worth shucks.”

“But awa from the settlements, you say, he
is rfectly rustworthy,” said Wright.

‘ Jcs’ 50' of he ain’t, kick me to death with
cripples. Iie’s 'ist old chain-lightnin’ in the Inc
jun country. hen shall we start on our expe-
dition?”

“ As soon as possible,” replied Wright.

“ VVal, I ain t got nothing to hinder me, so
we’ll take the trail to-morrow momin ’bout
four. Any ’ticular part of the Blackfoo coun-
try on want to go to?”

“ es; to the village of the White Wolf.”

“ Jes’ sol I know the critter. He’s one of
the top dogs among the Blackfeet. Nigh onto
five hundred warriors in his village. He’s a
deadly enemy of the whites. About ten ears
he jis worried the settlements along bor er
hyer like Old Scratch. Lordy! I remember the
time he come down on Elk City—it were only a
leetle ranch then—like a thousand of brick. It
were the toughest old fight you ever did see.”

“He’s the chief whose village I seek,”laid

Wright.
“ al I’ll put on through thar,or my name
ain’t Soiomon. ut now, strangers you want
to fix your tra , for it ’tain’t a picnic we’re
goin’ onto. Go any hoes?”

Wright replied in the ac tive.

“ Wal, I know a con leo ponies you kin b ,
heap cheap’, as my runken Injun Mudh 0

would m “ That’s a

“Mud ole!” said Courtney.
strange name fora chief.”

“ Jes’ so! Some of the river-men named him,
’cos he was always drunk, an’ ginerally lay
around loose in the mud.”

“ What tribe does he belong to?” asked
Wright.

“ tranger, you’ve got me' I don’t know. He
thinks a heap of me, and I think would ht to
the death for me every time; but he won tell
the name of histribe. I had an idea that he
were a Blackfoot, but one day down in the vil-
lage he got into a fight with seine Injuns of the
Blackfodt tribe, an’ nigh killed one of ’em afore
the pulled him off, an’ of course he wouldn’t
do hat of he were a Blackfoot, ’cos of course
dog won’t cat dog.” .

That’s very true,” said Wright.

“ In course; it’s human natur', ’ sager
the trapper. “ to come back to our mutr
ton, you want, dos the bosses, a con of

revolvers, a rifle, a ting one you

ood

gin ti ’cosif ou’recose ressed,

th‘ipgimfilfij”dh 3Com ti: rm and!
on use are e

aneniy.” said Wright. m g ’

“Themwilldo bully! Thar’s a Hem-your

thar” and the tra inted to the em
whaiethensomotiperpo - v

 

 

 

 

j
"—3,... ~~—~-'- fl

“ It’s abeautiful weapon,” said Courtney, pick-
ing. it up and looking at it.
‘Jes’ so! It’s a prewnt from old Col. Buck-
ner. He were cut off from his command by the
Blackfoot Injuns in the Flathead valley, when
lie-were on a scouting expedition. I were up
thar trapping beaver, an’ ha ppened to run across
him. Things were rough, tell you; the red
devils were round as thick as ’skeeters in a
swan). I thouo'ht our top—knots were gone two
. or three times; at, Lordy! we managed to slip
rirht t'nough ’em slick as a whistle! The oh
co ozlel were tickled to death. He said he
thought no should nevor see the white settle-
ments ag'm, an’ be gin me that Henry as a sort
of rememblanee like. I didn’t think much of it
at that, with all the gingerbread 'work onto it;
but when I come to tr it, an’ found out how
many shots a minute could fire with it, an’
that it would carry further than my old rifle
thar, [kinder concluded it wasn’t a bad friend
to have in the wilderness.”
“ I should say not,” said Wright; “but, su -
pose we go and look after those ponies you spo e
of. The sooner we set out the better.’

, “Jes’ 90! You’re richt thar,” said the trap-
r, emphatically. “DVVe’ll jist go arter the
' we want to

it our traps together—an
travel lght gent emen—an’ at four in the
morning we‘ll be among the missin’.”

The trapper rose from his seat, conducted his
gusts out of doors, fastened the door carefully

hind him, for, as he explained: '

“Henry rifles air scarce up hyer, an’ some
no—souled critter might captivate mine of I left
the, shanty open.”

Tu. Indian. Mudhole, whom we left asleep
more the door, had disappeared.

“ The. darned red cuss has gone arter rum
g’ia. He’s a sky cuss, he is, artcr fire-wa-
er. We’ll find ixn down in the village, hang-
n: round some of the rum-shops,” said the
.liant Trap or, leadim,r the we to the village.
Wright ant Courtney followed min).

A few minute-3’ walk brought the trio to a
' 'fliantv occupied as a general store, and where
a s l assortment of almost every thing was
kept. Entering the store, Sol inquired for the
n'oprictor, who soon made his appearance—u
large full-bearded fellow. x’From the trader
Wright and Courtney purchased two hardy

ponies. ’ I
I“ Sheet-iron, gents!” as the trader/remarked,
referring to the horses. ‘
The money was paid over and the trade com-

'ted.
, “ Send the animiles
'om tied outside,” said
“ Better not,” said the trader.
“ W'h not?” asked the Giant Trap r. .
i “ Don think it's safe,” replied t c trader.
“ Thor‘s a leap of Injuns in town, an’ the two-
legipd brutes will be putty apt to steal any thing
In t 0 way of hoes-flesh a they kin lay their

had was on.”
#‘x hat tribel’i asked Sol.
“I don’t kngw—an ugly set of devils. Guess
00

“That ain’t likely,” replied 801; “they don’t
come in h er.‘ .
.“Ma be not, said the trader; “but, I advrse
you no ta leave your bosses loose.”
' “ ’Nuii sod,” replied the trapper, laconically;

“awink’s as good asa nod to a blind boss.
We’ll call fur the bosses as we come back.”
.r Thoahe led the waydzo the street again. In the

street he turned to ' companions.

“ Let’s 0 an’ take a look at these ’ere Injuns.
Ef they air Blackfoot—which I doubt—we may
; get some information from ’91:) in regard to the

village of the White Wolf“ You see, these In-
‘i‘ims shift their villages about, jist as the game
_ gouty or scarce.”

 j , down the street went the three. When

' , the arrivedo totowhere the steamer la

" v—tga. one the brought Wright and Cours-

' py—theyfnoticed a little knot of people gather-
: i in- bontof one of the -s

“Tho"Injuna air in thar, I’ bet,” said 801.

I‘They’ve probe brought in some peltrles,

if they’re tradiu’ em 01!. ,

“Bu we go in and see,” suggested

“ I h o : - .
  535’, col but don’t let on that . on want to
 ,flndouton, woboutthem (of ybeBlack-
_ 11:5 ti or ’bout theIr country, loans of you do, they
; ’ for» allgit out. Iist you let me talk to 'em;
'  jist what at want to know, without
" "é‘gwggwill,  matter in your

'  was? 1 «we hum-3t" yawn:
-fi:¢n 1M2» r , .. ‘~ . 
    5"

u torn ranch ‘an’ have
3%}; y ’

 

. yetl to a close observer,

 

 

idlers, the Giant trapper, followed by the two
adventurers, entered. the store.

CHAPTER III.
ONE AGAINST SIX.

INSIDE the little store stood three Indians—as
usual wrapped up tightly in their blankets.
Before them lay a small pack of peltries, for
which they Wished 0. supply of powder and lead.

 

Two of the Indians were men, the third was a'

woman, and, as is usual with the uaws when
visiting the settlements, she had an blanket
drawn tightly over her head, almost concealing
her face from view; yet, from the glimpse that
could be caught of it through the opening of the
blanket, one Would have pronounced the squaw
to be both youn'r and handsome?

As Sol and the two adventurers entered the
store, the Indians and the trader were engaged
in a brisk discussion as to the value of the furs
——the trader not being willing to give the price
demanded for them by the Indians.

Courtney’s eyes were instantl attracted by
the young Squaw; and with a na' ural curiosity,
he drew near to her, anxious to get a better view
of her features. She, ‘erceiving the move-
ment, and guessing the o ject, drew the blanket
still closer, so that only her coal -black eyes,
brilliant as stars, could be seen.

At the entrance of the Giant Trapper and his
companions, the Indians bent a piercing glance
upon them, and the elder chief—a huge brave,
and very dark in color—said a few words in the
Indian tongue to the younger chief. The words
evidently had some. reference to the tra per, as
the young chief looked at him from heat to foot.
For a moment, then, both the Indians turned
their attention to the furs again.

“ How air you, Martin?” said Sol, nodding to
the trader. .

“Sol, you’re the very man 1 want to see!”
cried the trader, who answered to the name of
Martin. “ Give us iyour judgment hyer. What’s
these peltries wort ‘i”

Sol drew near and examined the skins care-
fully. As he did so, he ve vent to a low
whistle of astonishment. he Indians noticed
the whistle, and exchanged lances of alarm.
The elder lOoked toward the cor, as if seeking
an avenue of escape.

“ ngl, Sol,” said the trader, “what are they

orth ,

“ Wal, I don’t exact] know; that depends,

in course, on the state 0 the market,” said the

trapper, slowly, and then he turned his eyes up-
dians. “ Whar did you trap these

W

on the} In
hyer eh?” .

“ Iiig river,” said the elder chief extending
his hand in the direction of the north fork of the

issouri.

“ th’! said the trapggr, and there was an ex-
Bressmn of doubt in ' tone. “ Is the chief a

lackfoot?” he asked.
. “ No,” replied the Indian; “ Grow!”

“That’s a lie,” said the trapper to himself;
then he continued his questions:

“Does m brother know a Crow chief named.
White W l” and the traIpper bent his keen eyes
full upon the face of the adian as-he spoke. In
spite of the almost impenetrable mask of stolid-
ity that the savage wore upon' his features, a
slight expression of astonishment, not unmixed
1iwith alarm, appeared upon his face at the ques-

on. .
1‘ “ White Wolf," the Indian said, slowly. “ No
Crow chief named White Wolf. ”

“ It is so, by n !” suddenly cried the trap-
r in great ms meat, whether real or of-
ected we leave the reader to as. “ I mean

a Blackfoot chief. His villa e is up on the Flat-
head river, near the Great anon. I swowl
wonder. how I came to forgit it, ’cos I were
a~trappm’ up thar last spring, an’ I lost a pack
of sinus jist about the em and heft of this hyer,
in a real curious manner. In course of you air
a Crew you don’t know nothin’ ’bout it at 3.11:”
and the trapper looked at the Indians in a comi-
cal way, a broad grin n his. features, and
are was anything but
a p look in his eyes. - _

“winder!” cried the trader; “ you don’t
macaw say that they went for you, 801?”

“ You cantake the hide right on to back of
the didn’t ” said 801, With a . ‘ An’ of I
h 't’ the ongest gen 0’ legs t at were ever on
mortal man. my p-lmot would be hangin’ in
White Wolf’s Wigwam this ’ere very minute. ”

‘f You .doa’t say 30!”. cried the trader, in
amusement. '

“ ,  sure! Iran a foot-racowith’em
 Great Canon down to Dead
Creek, aa’ I only. come; out

 

I. one thar but’s got my mark onto t, an‘"of

I
am, '33,: ,

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

‘f Sun go soon,” said the elder Indian, who
evidently felt ill at ease. “If white chief want
skins, Injun take what white man say—so
much,” and the chief held up his fingers to de-
note the amount.

“A trade’s a trade,” said the trader. “ Ireckv
on I won’t back out of n) Wold. Hyer’s your
powder and lead, chief,’ and the trader pro-
duced the articles.

“ Urodl” said the Indian, eagerly securing the
articles al.0ut his person.
skins; (cine sce v. bite licihcrng’in.”

" You won’t git any nzue thins the way you
got those, “ill out lrcvm’ a fight iur unwed-
skin,” said ilze Giant T18] per.

All luokcd at him in an eminent.

“What the deuce do ya mean, Sol?”asked
the trader, in astonill merit».

“ Only a joke, t1 at’s all,” said the helper,

uigtly. “The chief understands, don’t you,

- But if the Indian understood, he didn’t wait to
say so. .
“How?” said the chief, as a pariin saluta-
tion, as he passed through the door, folIeued by
the other lrave and the aquaw.

“See you ag’m, Martin,” said Sol, following
the Indians, and signing to Wright and Court-
ne ‘ 1'01]va him.

V llg it; dr in ” said the trader astbe
passed through this dcbr.‘ , y

0_nce m the street, Sol looked around for the
Indians. His quick eye sec-n discovered them
some little (fllsiancedown the duct, ‘cing to-
ward the (ulskirts of the town, and .mrying
along as if llari'ul cf pm suit.

“ ou (“1‘sscd rrd niggers, 'oui I’d like to
know what you sir alter,” sai Er], drawing a
glance of Lam (1, tr ward the ltd-skits.

" Do you know them l” asked u right.

“ We , I km make a shrewd. 1191-8 ’Lcut ’em.
You saw that air lack of pe that they
traded in the store?” '

6‘ Yes i?

“ I trap god every (Turned cue on ’cm.” .

“ Y‘an c ld'f." er id T. right, in asiwiihmcnt.

“hi it ’tum’t so, take me by the latk of the
neck and shake me light cut of n-y mcggasins,”
cried the-ire per. '

“.But, it t ey are our skins, how or me the
Indians by them?” as {d C c 111 tm—y.

“Why, I’were a-trappin’ up in the Blackfoot
country, an the red devils vent fur me fur all
I were worth Jist _theu. 'Ibey get my skins, lut
I went _over the alrth so thurduin’ fast I didn’t
have time to stop an’ have km a lock of my
ha’r ” said the imp (r, with a glin.

“ ut these
Wri ht. I ht” ed .

‘5 ows wa cri ‘ the tra 1 in a tone
of contempt. “ So am I a (‘rc‘wIIr'Tbar ain’t
at: lShow; ’bout them I Thar Blackfooti’rcm be):

cc .
“ Blackfoot!” cried both the adventurers in as-
tonishment. ‘- . ’ -

“Jes’ so. Ef the ain’t 599’ above my head
an’ swallow me h ,” said the (remu- making
this singular proposal with a in. It is per.
naps needless to rg mark that an her of his cum
pamons pcceplcd it. - , ,' ,
thu Bug 11:13:? are Blgckfiotsinflan chug m
e 0'xe1~e,onw ,0 en
theg'vézgibef’ asgieduwright? i' y y

u , on .e 1e] cr n astonishmen
“ didn’rE find the led kalficns with my cling;
in their fore-.pawsl— the very blessed s that
I tra pedVlhis ’uc spring on the Flathead river,
near he Great (anon and that these red snakes
run me awa fnm, darn ite’r (led-rotted cop-
per-colored i I knowed evc pcltry; nary
course
they air goin’ to git out of thescrape if they kin;
but the ain’t a-goin’ to say qght out that they
air Bl oot; right afore me.

Courtnsy. _

“W , I .don’t like to have an troubleef l
kinhelp it. Then it would be i an unfair
advantage right here onto my own dunghill, to
pick up a fight with ’em. The  were
commenced in their country, an’ midi as lief
work ltput in the same region,“ ‘ thump-
per with that inherent love of fairness
which is so prevalent among the mountaiuhoo.
“The a»: thobest ofmelutspunl. ' l. 30"
I’llgfi‘ best of theka so ~; or
of I~don’tsteal the heat loss they ._ .808 in-

WhlteW trade funny 3&1
' ' don
tabs" H 13%,“ I .
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' “But why didn’t‘you claim the skins?” asked ,

“WAS A

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Sol Ginger.

5 \

 

 

f I
“ 35! Lou legs is watching us,” he cried, l
iii the lackfoo language, addressing his com» 1

man.
“The white dog knows us!” returned the ‘
other. v

“Yes, perhaps; if he follows us he will dis-
cover our rty, and defeat our plans to sur-
prise the w itcs.”

“Lotung back and stay in the town till
flight; then we can steal awny'without notice,"
said the smaller of the two.

“ The lied Hand speaks with
tongue: it is good. Tue chiefs of the Blackfeet
wil wait for their chief till the ground is dark."
replied the elder chief, “ White Bird,” he con-
tinued, addressing the squaw, “ keep your
blanket about your face; let not the white chiefs
see the face of the Flower of the Blackfeet.”

o, with slow 6 ‘, the lndiaus bent their l
way again to the vii 

‘ They are returning ” cried Courtney.

“Jes’ sol” said Sal.
ed, you bet; but, we want some crackers and
fixings fur our ‘j'.lu1'll€ly‘ we’ll see these critters
ag‘in afere We reach t e Great Canon on the
thhcad, or I’m a sucker.”

So the trio moved oil? toward the trading-store
again. Courtney, however, had determined to
see the face of the squaw if ssible. The
glim so he had caught of her bright, shy black
eyes ad thrille'l him to the soul. Youtii is im-
pulsive. Already he was half in love with the
mung Squaw, whose eyes alone he had seen,

t who was—he was convinced—both young
80, when his com Minions on-

a straight 5

‘I’ll keep my eyes peel- '

and beautiful. _
{and the store, he remained outsi e and kept
eyes upon the Indians. . ,

The two braves and the squaw came slowly 1
along, as if unconscious that. their movements 
wore watched, but they knew it full well, for g
the keen eyes of the older chief had detected the :
form of the young man standing in the door- l
way, and his glances toward them. The Indians ,
Went down the street till they came to where a ‘
little aim of trees cast a shadow upon the
fizmui n the shade of these trees'they sat ‘

xvii, apparently unconscious of all that was
going on around them. ..

 “ I’d give a few dollars to see that girl’s face
and have a—rfew words with her, Indian though
she is,” said Courtney to himself, as he looked
long and wistfully at the coarse rel blanket
that concealed the form and face of the Indian

Courtne‘r's attention was diva-tad from the
Blackfeet by a. drunken yell mining from one of
the numerous drinkin shells up the street by
the river-bank. The t yell was followed by
a" y " and then hallo dozen fellows,,av1-
dently flushed with liquor, came from one of
the saloons and reelcddown the street. toward
the Indians. There were six or seven in. the .
party—unrih customers they were, too: river-

 

men mblers, and one or two mountain men.
-' ' “ ' the drunken brutes won‘t trouble the ,
girl,” Courtney to himself, as he behold the i

mwd'advanclng; but, as he expected, the mo-
nent one of the drunken fellows beheld the

in under the trees, he called the attention of
» coupanions to the Indians. - ‘

“M’s some cussed red-skins, nn’ asquaw
tear-Mel the foremost one of the gang,
heading directly for the trees. Courtney, too,
advanced toward .the group. He loosened his
revolverin its sheath,.determincd to use it on
the drunken gang, it necessary].

“Say, old gal! ’ shouted t a leader of the ‘
rough fellow?f as he mtnear the Indians, “take

r kiver o and

V m f” at us see your pretty red
' L can 011.
rain:

9 Indians rose to their feet; the

handset the chiefs sou'rht the handles of their

W beneath their lilankets; a fight Was at
an . ' v .

(Bender, this isthe way one-half of our In-
dian wars begin. The Lilian comes into Our
frontier settlements , peacefully and well-be. _
imam» he is abused and outraged by some 3
drunken ruflians and, in return, he carries fire ’
and steel Anion the Whole line of the bot-don)

“ Tear the b .1th oil’, Dick, if she won’t show
her face.” shouted another of the gang. '

“I will, 370111l  flogged 5.3: rii’ leadi; fit
the my w o a - a as V ic ;

p adVanccd.«with outstretched hand to-
' l; but,"w1th a motihn quick .
step before the
in hishand.

   

the el or In . .
along, glittering km

  

. blasted Injunsl”
‘ that came from the crowd as they brandisth

- nmrrst to him by Dick’s retreat.

the rage of the crowd knew no bounds. Knives
and pistols were instantly drawn, and flourished
furiously by the rough fellows.

“ Cut his heart out, Dick!” “ Shoot the
“ Kill ’om l” were the cries

their weapons. With a large portion of the

, frontier settlers, the lndian is regardld as an
‘ object to be put out of the way as Soon as possi—

ble. But, as. the hostile, drunken crowd swayed
toward the red-skins, Courtney, with revolver
in hand, cocked and leveled at them, sum ed

to the side of the Indians, and again CllCClik'kl 3

the advance.

“ What the Names do you want!” growled the
bully, Dick, anxiously seeking to get outside of
the line of the six-shooter, yet not wishing; abso«

: lutelv to retreat.

“ Allow me to ask you the some question:
‘ what the blazes do 3/ u want’:" l\_-Iill(:(l Court-

, ney, with a calm, quiet voice, carefully turiiiu r

the revolver in the din ction of the rough lei
That worthy
no sooner had perceived the muzzle of the revol—
ver turned in his direction. and take 11 a single
glance into the shiningr tube. than be instantly
executed a retrograde movement, which brour ht
him up in a safe position in the rear of all the
rest oi the party.

“ ll 0 want to cut the heart out of this cursed
Injun l" howled the fellow left nearest to (fourt-
ne by the. retreat of Dick and the second rough.

‘Oh, you do, do you?” asked Courtney, in n
pleasant, quiet way, leveling the revolver fullat
is head.

“ Yes, we-—” and here the speaker can ht
sight of the six-shooter, capped and leveled 1111
at his head. This sight caused him to pause in
his Speech: a glance around at his comrades dis-
closed thc astounding (not that they were [n‘adu-
ally retreating beyond the range of the weapon,
and that he was left confronting the deadly
tubes 0.10%. No man rushes heedle$sly u )0“
death, unless he is a madman: so, after anot lt’l‘
glance at his companions, the last i‘ufflan com-
menced backing tow 1rd them.

, “ I’ll see you ag’.nl” muttered the rough, re-
treating a little faster.

“ All right: come and see me often ” respond-=
ed Courtney, bending down his head a little to
one side, as if drawing a “ bead " on the retreat-
ing man, who, perceiving the movement, incon-
tinently turned his back and his retreat quick-
cned into a run, until he had 'oincd his coni-
oanions. The drunken follows 5 00k their fists
licrcely for a, minute or so at Courtney,

came. -

Thus one cool. determined man, aided by a
sixrshoomr, pin. ‘to flight half a dozen fellows,
several of W cm were armed fully as .well as
himself.

Courtney turned to the Indians.

f‘White chief heap bravel'heart bigl Injun
think much. speak little. When time comes
luiun pafvalwhite chief, perhaps: no tell now,’
said the lchief, bending a con glance upon
the young man. '

i“ My red brotheer welcome,” said Courtney,
speaking in the Indian fashion. -'

“ Young chief go with Longlegs, chi”
ed the savage.

Courtne wondered at the question, but he
answered it. i

“ Yes; $01, the big trapper, you mean?”

“Ugh! Longlegs big chief! No light much;
run has i! Injun no catch Longlegs; he scalp
beaver, ieap.” ,

It was very evident to Courtney that the chief
was well tufquaiuted with the trap or.

“ Ugh! Crow!” said the young c ief, pointing
down the street'to an Indian riding along on a
pony. Both the chiefs turned their backs upon

ou_rtncy and the squaw to gaze at the strange
Indian. Courtney cared little for the Crow
brave, and eagerly embraced the op rtunity to
steal a glance at the Indian irl. S in pcrcmved
the motion, and, with a quic glance toward the
chiefs touoto if the~ were watching unfolded
the blanket and disc Oscd to the admiring eyes
of (knn‘tney the prettiest face he thought he had
ever looked u n! The features of the Indian
girl were re ., or, and really very beautiful. A
long, straig it nose, eyes. of lustrous black, of
liquid fire and of melting tendon nests; full, pout-
ing lips, red as the carnation innver,.swect in
their dewy fullness: a little (alum-exquisitely
formed. and a threat ~ierieet as sculptor ever
carved from silent mar do. The clear  tee,

question-

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then plunged into the saloon from‘ whence thfi- k

through which the rosy blood was. blushing;wi ,
had kins- -

for Wder and end?" asked Wri ht.

‘ Courtney

fte'im'

 

-> ‘doeaawhltc: hates furtbat

 
 
 

For a moment Courtney ghazcd upon the hm
tiful girl before him, and t on, as if fearful of
bein surpriscd b the chiefs, she again
the ilanket over or face, and Courtney
scendcd from heaven to earth. .

'l'he chiefs having watched the Crow dismount,
and enter one of tho tradingvstoi'cs, turned again
to the oung man. ‘

“ W n-n do my brothers go to their wig-
wanisl” asked Courtin y. '

“ When the co otc howls and the spirit li lite
conic,” repliml t io chicl‘, pointing to the s y.
l‘y the “spirit lights,” (jourtney guessed that
the Indian mount the stars.

“ Will not my brother come to my Wigwam
and out!”

“ lnjun not l'mngry; bui‘nby come. perhaps,"
replied the chief, seating himself u .on thc
ground. The squaw and the yoluig 1n inn fol
lowed his example.

Seeing that there was but little chance of agnli
beholding the girl’s face, Courtney slowly wall!
ed toward the trading-store. '

CHAPTER IV.
, IN THE NIGHT.

AS the young adventurer walked slowly
along, his thoughts were of this beautiful youn
savage, the strange-lined daughter of the l'B‘E
skins, whose check was nearlyas white as hil

   
    
   
     
   
   
     
     
   
   
  
   
  
    
   
  
 
  
     
   
   
   
 

own.
‘ “Shall I ever see her again?” cried the 01m -
man to himself. Seine instinct u ithln lashing
assured him that he would. ' I
“ By Jove!” he cried, to use our frontier ex. ~
pression, “ she’s taken me for all that I’m
wort .’
At the tradin store Courtney found Old Sol
and Wright. ’ ie tra iper had Completed hi-
urchases, and the trio urned their steps toward
iis shanty. '
“That air Injun business gits inc,”said 80!,
with a wise shake of the head. '
“Then you think that the had some other
object in comin than to cite ange their

“ Val, yes, ldo think so; it ’tal‘n‘t often that -
the Blackfeet trouble us much in hyer. P’r’a
the red skunks want to see of thar were any tr n
a-gnin’ to start across the mountains, an’ of that
were a chance for plunder. ”

“ But they have a. squaw with them,” said
Courtney. ' ‘ *

“ Yes that shows that they ain’t on the war- ,
path. l kinder guess thc’r on a sort of ameli-
r  expedition, flat to see what they can dio-

3‘ this time the three had reached the .trap-
per 3 shanty, and the shades of night werew-
ginning,r to gather over the prairie. ; . gr.

“ See here,” said Sol, suddenly, as they enters
ed the shanty, “I ain’t beam yetu‘naniec. yit,
an’ as we’re oln’ to be chums fur a fewweakl, , - a 
i; dop‘t soun right fur to be callln’ you mic-

rs

“'My name is Roderick Wright,” said the
elder, “‘and this gentleman’s name 3: Harry

n
“Jcs’sol”re lied Sol. “My We in source 
you known-So onion Ginger, called far short ._
Old Sol, an’ by the red heathens Long! ’coo‘k '
l kin outrun any two-lo critter the ever _
sot rcpt on, the top of t e airth inthla’gre
0

n. _ , . V
“ Not a bad gift for a man like you,” remark- -‘
ed Wright. ' ~ ‘
“Not much, you bet!” replied the trapper;
“but now, gents hyer’s some blankets, ~an' '
byer‘a the good old solid airth, an’ as we’ve got
to make tracks at daybre .we thought unwell 
take‘ a cat-no as not. I 1 put go. down an'. 
bring up the oases, an’ hitch cm with'my two . ' “
beasts outside iii the little corral at the ‘ ' _ 
the s‘ They’ll be safe tbar fioxn either '

b basket
. Y~
In'unugigwhite.” ' - - ;. ,
‘lie trap or do arted after the batsman!
Wright am Cour ney seated themselves 11pm, ‘ ,
the. boxes to await-his return. . - ,. .
In a short time. the Giant Trap r rem
With the two‘ horses they had urc. iused at  ‘
trading-store. These be t n the little ya“; 3:;
attached to the back of t «a shanty,-wh-ire two  '
more ponies were already, tetht red-one a‘ little
mud-colored animal. of t e kind cornmeal call-
ed “claybankflf [Ibis the 'trapper pain ed’ to -f
‘with pride; as being the fl‘ cutest, smarterw litfl.‘
aniinn that ever walked over the top of'zthq

airth.” (Hie other was a rough, Ella 
that lppkcd as if he were thoroughly

U180 .‘ _  ‘ r . ‘ '

"‘ That’s Mmlhole’awimflefluid  a“
a. ' 'I ' i'holsseout;an’out,.'antr “

hi
china darned 5i ht-m‘ywv
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r

mine,”

lilting as he spoke, with pride to the
mud-ooIziored pony, “she can smell an Injun a

mile, an’ hates ’em like old Satan. He’s nearly
kicked Mudhole’s head off three or four times;
he’s ’ison on Injuns.”

“ useful brute,” said Wright.

“ That’s so; kin travel his sixty miles a day,
day in an’ day out, gits fat on a chaw tobacco,

n kin sleep on the top of a rail fence;" and a

road grin spread over the trapper’s face as he
descanted on the good qualities of the mud-col-
ored beast.

“ I suppose we had better take our rifles and
little) traps from the boat to-night,” said

rig it.

“Sartin; they ain’t apt to be stirrin’ in the
mornin’, au’ we’ll take wing mighty airly.”

“ Come, then, C(ldrtney” said tWright. “ We’ll
be back in a few minutes.”

“ J es’ so. I’ll have some fodder ready fur yer.
I’ve got the nicest buffalo-tongue hyer that ever
a. hungry man put his teeth into. Then, after
foddering up, we’ll take a shake-down till morn-

in .”

gl’ri‘ght and Courtney left the shanty and
walke down the street to the boat. It ‘iad now
grown quite dark, and as there was no moon,
011111; friends could scarcely see ten paces eefore
t em.

They reached the steamer, however Without
accident; there they got their rifles and a few
other “small traps, ’ as the clerk of the steamer
denominated them, and procccdcd to return to
the kappcr’s shanty.

They had nearly gained half the distance,
when three dark forms brushed by them in the
gloom. The darkness was so great that the fig
ures could not be easily recognized, yet Court-
ney felt sure that it was the two Indian braves
and the young Indian girl who had just passed
him. A wild wish a rung up in his breast to
once again see the ndian girl—if possible to
speak to her; and he determined to gratify that
wish. He did not for a moment, consider that

ibly the girl knew nothing of the English
ngue, and as he knew not a single word of any
of the Indian languages, conversation might
therefore be impossible. Love is blind, how-
ever. Courtney had but one wish, one thought,
to see the fair face of the sava maiden—if
possible, to touch her hand, to tel her that she
was loved, to ask love in return!

So, on arriving at the trapper’s shant ., Court-

ney laced his “plunder” inside, sai quietly

- that 6 would return in a moment, and then re~

traced his steps down the street.

" I may be on a wild-goose chase,” he said to
himself, as he strolled along in the darkness,
his eyes and ears on the watch to detect the
three shadowy forms that had passed him but
the moment before.

Suddenly a thought occurred to him. Mi ht
not the little clump of trees that had shaded he
Indians in the day. be the best place to find
them in the night? The thought was reasonable;
so, toward the trees Courtney slowly bent his
steps. In a few minutes he stood beneath the

reading boughs. All was silence; the stillness
»o the night alone was there.

“Now, then, what is my course‘of action?”
said the young man to himself. “ Shall I con-
ceal myself ill the bushes, at the foot of these
trees, and wait 'for the coming of the Indians,
or shall I ve up the chase and return to the

’ A few minutes’ thought de-
cide him to a opt the first course of action;
so he stretched himself out at full length in the
bushes.

Courtney had not been five minutes ir the
concealment of his ambush, when his quick ear
detected the tread of persons approaching. The
l- lund came from the direction 0 the town.

“ Tho tread is too heavy for my Indian girl,”
thought he, as the sound came nearer and
nearer. _

Then, to the eyes of the watching man, two
fl res loomed u in the gloom of 'the night.

at they were ndians he could plainly see by
the blankets wrapped around them.

“ These are the two chiefs, but where is my
beauty?” questioned the young man, as he peer-
ed into th 3 darkness around him, anxious to de-
tect the rson of the Indian girl. But, no lithe
form, with its light, springing step, rewarded

9 Indians stopped beneath the trees, and
then Courtney saw that he was wron~
surmise: the two Indians were not t a two
chief: who had been with the girl Here, in-

d, was one of them—the elder w:;-rior, who
had carried on the conversation, but the shorter
one, the younger brave, was not with the old
chief. other Indian now with him, was a

warrior fully as tall as the old chief himself.

" it’s a poor heart that cannot find consolation, so

in his ,

“The young chief and the ' [are then to-
gether,” said the concealed an anxious young
man to himself. “If the old chief is here, the
others will come, so I shall see my dark-eyed
beauty again, though I may not be able to
speak to her. \Vell, that is better than nothing;

I’ll watch and wait.”

The two chiefs commenced speaking. Court-
ney listened eagerly, but as the chic 3 spoke in
the Indian language, he had his trouble for his
pains. We, however, for the information of

l our readers, will translate the conversation of
the Indians.

“Why does the dog of the white-skins follow
the steps of the chief of the Blackfeet?” demand-
ed the old chief.

“The White Wolf speaks with a straight
tongue,” answered the strange Indian; “ the
outcast brave is a dog.”

The tones of the second Indian’s voice sounded
strangely familiar to the ear of the watching
Courtney, thou rh the meaning of the speech
was as Greek to im.

“ Where the deuce have I heard that voice?”
questioned Courtney, communiilg with himself
and striving through the darkness to distinguish
the face of the speaker, but the darkness was
too intense. Courtney could only distinguish
the outlines of his form. '

“Yes, a dog that licks the hand of the whine
—the hand of the deadly enemies of his race.”

“ It is true; the dog is in the dust- why crush
him? Let the chief open his ears; he will hear
things good for the Blackfeet to know,” replied
the strange Indian, whose tones sounded so fa-
miliar to Courtney 3 car.

“ Ugh! Can the dog do good to the tribe he
has disgraced?” questioned the old chief, in a
stern voice.

“ The S )otted Elk is dead 920 the warriors of
the Black eet; let him rest till the Great Spirit
calls him to the happy hunt-ing ands,” said
the strange Indian, in a mourn voice.

“ 'l he Spotted Elk was once a reat chief of
the Blackfoot nation—the great raw of the
young warriors; he was the son of the White

Volf. One day he would have been the eat
chief of the Blackfeet that dwell in the Flat lead
valley. The Spotted Elk was as brave as the
eagle, and as foolish as the owl; he loved the
s new of the Gray Eagle—another’s mate.

hat was the end?” demanded the old chief.

“ The Gray Eagle came upon the Singing Bird
and the S tted Elk; he was angry like the
great clou when they look black over the flow-
ers; the Gray Eagle was a great chief, a mighty
warrior, strong as the pine-tree, but the t-
ted Elk tore his heart out,“ and the voice 0 the
chief swelled into a tone of triumph as he told
of the death of his fee.

“The eSpotted Elk truth: the Gray
Eagle di by his ' e, but the tribe of the
Blackfeet killed the Sin g Bird—the guilty
squaw—and drove the potted Elk an outcast
from the land of his fathers. For the love of a
foolish seaplaw, the S tted Elk gave u the
chieftain. 'p of the B ackfeet—became a 0g in
the wigwams of the pale-faces—rolled in the
mud at their feet—drank their fire-water, and
became their slave,” and the voice of the old
chief swelled with indi tion as he spoke. The
other Indian hung his cad, and for a moment
made no reply.

The intemew was decidedly uninteresting to
the listener, Courtney, unable to understand a
word of their conversation; he listened with im-
patience.

“I wish to heaven they’d get out, and that
the girl would come!” was his in tered excla-
mation. Just then a. slight noise 0 the left of
him attracted his attention; he listened, and, in
a moment, became satisfied that some one else
was watchin the interview of the two Indians
besides himse f. For a moment he felt a sli ht
alarm as to his own safetié but, as the ot er
listener, whoever it might , did not seem in'
clinerl to approach, Courtney flattered himself
that his presence was uulmovm. The two Indi-
ans again resuming their conversation. he turn-
ed his attention to them, thinking that possibly
t fig-\'amight say something that he could under-
s n .

“ The White Wolf speaks straight: the Spot-
ted Elk is a wanderer, but his heart is Black-
foot. Let the chief open his ears. The Whitel
Wolf saw the strange whites with the trapper
Longlcgs?”

“Yes,” answered the old chief. ‘

‘ ‘The strange chiefs seek the Flathead river,
the country of the Blackfeet; the seck some-
thing which thOV will find in the v llage of the
White Wolf. Can the chief guess what they

 

seek?”

 

2;-

“Ugh! the white squawl” answered the old
chief, a heavy frown gathering upon his
brows.

“ The White Wolf is right- the ears of the
Splotted Elk are long: he heard the talk of the
w ite braves; when the sun comes they go.”

“ Their bones shall whiten in the valle of the
Flathead, and the co ote feet upon their cartel“
cried the White W0 f. fiercely.

“ Longle es with the white braves. ”

“ He she 1 ie!” exclaimed the old chief.

“ No! Longlegs saved the S tted Elk from
the blue-coated whites. If he ries theS tted
Elk dies too. The White Wolf will spare ng-
legs, or the Spotted Elk will tell him not to leave
the white wi wanis.”

“ It is go 1” replied the old chief ‘ “ Lon
shall not die; the Spotted Elk shall save
the others shall diel’

“ It is well," laconically re lied the Spotted Elk,
and then the two chiefs wa ked on in the dark-
ness, and their figures were soon lost to sight in
the gloom of the night.

“ Now, I‘d like to get out of this,” thought
Courtney, “ but there’s that confounded listen-
er over there. It may be some big Indian who
may lot a knife into me the moment I show
myse f. Might little information I’ve got. I
wonder where t le deuce in Indian beauty is?"

Then, a noise from the irection of the con-
cealed person, that was yet to be roved friend
or foe, attracted his attention. e turned his
eyes toward the spot; a dark ii are rose from the
ground and advanced direct to the llidin -
place of Courtney. Throu h the gloom he could
distinguish that it was an ndian; on came the
figure steadily toward him.

“I’ve ot to fi ht for it!” said the young man,
between is teot . He 5 rung to his feet, draw-
ing his revolver as he di so, and leveling it full
at the breast of the advancin stran r, who,
however, did not seem to heed t e host 6 action
but still came steadily on.

“ Keep ofl'hor 1 fire!” exclaimed Courtney, as
he premd his revolver almost to the breast of
the stran e Indian. The blanket drop from
the dark gure, and by the dim ' ht, , ourtiiey
could discern that it was the In ian/ girl who
stood before him. A CI? of delight escaped hi-
lips at the welcome sigh .

legs
im;

“ White chief will not shoot Indian 'rl 3" said
the maiden, in good, plain English, th only a
slight Indian accent.

Shoot you I” cried Courtney, aching his re-
volver track to its place. “ I w d rather shoot

myself! ,

‘ Is white chief glad to see Indian girl?” ques-
tioned the maid. ,

“Glad? To be sure I. am!” he cried. “ That
was my object in lying concealed beneath these
trees to see you.”

“Eon like me?” the girl asked, looking into
Courtney’s face with her bri ht, beautiful eyes,
new full and lustrous as ripp g waves. , ,

“Like!” cried Courtney im etuously; “I
more than like; I love you i” an with a quick
movement he drew the unresisting girl to his
breast. A moment he held her there—a mo-
ment he heard the beating of her heart
his own, and then his 1i met hers in one long
lingering. passionate l The blood danced
quick] through his veins; that kiss was the
seal 0 love; henceforth the maid was his-for-

ever! - .
u love gull" said the girl softly, looking
into her lovers

Pith he.” full, lustrous eyes
ace.

“ And you will leave your tribe and go with
me?” questioned Courtney.

“Yes,” and the girl, lookin guickly around,
peering through the loom, as earful of being

rised, : “ on go with the trapper

Lon legs into the Blackfoot country ?”

“ es,” answered Courtney, in astonishment;
“ how did you know that?”

“You understand the Blackfoot language?"
asked tl’i’e girl.

“Then you could not understand what the

.

chiefs said. i
H n

“ Ab!” and the girl for a moment was silent;
then she again continued: “ You seek some-
thing in the Blackfoot country?" -

“ Yes,” said Courtney, wondering where the
girl could have procured her knowled e. " I
seek a treasure worth fifty thousand do so
my companion says.”

The girl shook her head incredulously.

“ I know the treasure you seek; it is a living
one, and it will , with you alone. Your com~

‘on cannot o tain it then h he were backed
y all the bluecoated chiefs. the, Big river

 

 

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Courtne looked at the earnest face of the girl
in astonis out; he was in a maze; he could
make nothing of these strange words.

“I do not understand you," he cried; “ex-

lain.”

“Some time,” said the girl, with a smile.
“ Good—by, now. You go to the Flathead river:
you will be in danger, but 1 will watch over
“you, and you shall have the treasure. One
word: beware of the Indian, Mudholel He will
betray you to the Blackfeet. Nay, more, he has
betrayed you. Good-by!” and the girl folded
the blanket around her as if to depart.

" One moment!” cried Courtney, as he press-
ed a farewell kiss upon her lips. “ My name is
Harry Courtney; what is yours?”

" White Bird, the Flower of the Blackfeet,”
murmured the girl. as she glided from his arms
and disappeared in the darkness that hung like
an inky pull over the earth.

Courtney watched her retreating fi ure until
it was lost to his view, and then, wit a heart
beating high with joy, he returned to the trap-
per’s shanty and sought his humble couch, a
single blan ct on the hard earth. But, his
dreams that night were pleasant ones, for the
dark eyes and red lips of the Blackfoot maid
were ever before him. '

CHAPTER V.
IN THE HANDS or THE BLACKFEET.
"\VHEN the first gray streaks of light up arcd
in the eastern sky, the Giant Trapper awo c the
two adventurers; the trio made a hasty break-

fast. and then soon were in the saddle.
llarlil had the three mounted, when the In-
dian, udhole, came up, looking as if he had

assed the night in some mudhole sleeping off
he effects of the potent fire-water.

Mudhole stared at the mounted men; a dim
expression of astonishment appeared upon his
features.

“Old Sol go—no take Mudhole with him?”
questioned the Indian.

“In course not,” replied the tra per. “Git
your hoss; we’re fur the mountains ’fore the
sun’ 11 .”

“ figudhole go,” responded the savage, as he

entered the little corral, and proceeded to saddle

his pony, an (yieration which was extremely

simple, said sa dle consisting only of a sungle
unket.

"  knowed he’d come,” said the trapper, with
a frill. “ He‘s got the cussed whisky out 0’ him,
an. he’s a hull team in the wilderness.”

By this time the Indian had strap the
blanket on his pony and mounted; t en Sol

ave the si ml, and the party rode 01! toward

he west, aking the trail that led through
Cadotte’s Pass to the little frontier settlement
known as Elk City. _

As they rode along, Courtney could not reSist
taking a searching glance at the redoubtable
Mudhole, who rode in the rear, some ten paces
behind the rest. The warnin of the young In-
dian girl recurred to the min of Courtney: her
warning was a strange one: “ Beware of the
Indian, Mudhole; he will betray you to the
Blackfeet; nay, more, he has betrayed on.”

“What the deuce did she mean?” ask Court-
ney of himself. “How can he have already
betrayed us?—--that is the question.” But no so-
lution of the mystery presented itself to the
young man’s mind. _

“I’ll keep my eves upon him,” be resolved
“ and if I see the slightest si of treachery, I’ll
llow his brains out as I we d a mad dog’s.”

Carefully did the old trapper lead the march,
for, as be ex lained to “fright and Courtney
they might c iance to fall in with a rovmg band
of Crow Indians at any moment, as they were
edging the regions inhabited by that warhke
m .

Thanks to the trap r’s precautions, and to
the good-fortune whic kept the Indians from
their trail, the little part reached Cadotte’s
Pass without seein signs of, a hostile savage.

Climbing the rec y passes of the great moun-
tains, our adventurers at length descended on
the western side, and turned their courso to the
north-west, leaving the Elk City trail, and tak—
ing a pathway of their own through the rough
and timbered defiles.

At the close of a weary day’s march, our ad-
venturers halted for rest and supper by the
side ofa little stream that came tumbling down
—thc waters pure as crystal—from the over-
nan "Ing mountains.

“ . ow, then, we air nigh our iiourney’s end:
we foller this leetle brook ten mi es or so and
we strike the valle of the Flathead river.’ said

e trapper, as he ' mounted and extended his

he on the grass.

“How far are we, then, from the village of

 

 

the White Wolf i” asked Wright, as he followed
the trapper’s example and reclined at his side.

“ ’Bout ten miles or so—nigh enough to he
might dangerous of we ain’t mighty careful,”
replie the trapper.

“ You think there is danger of the Indians
stumbling upon us here?” said Courtney.

“ Not much; it’s a mi hty good time fur our
expedition, fur about this time nearly all the
young braves air away, d0wn in the plains ar—
ter bufllers. It's the hunting season now; but,
how on airth air you a-goin’ to find out whe-
ther this ’ere rsen you seek is in the village of
the White V ’olf or not?” asked the trapper,
with a doubtful shake of the head.

“ That willbe a difliculty indeed,” said Wright,
thoughtfully. “ Can you not suggest some

Ian?”

p “ In course. I kin, but the carr in’ of the plans
out, thar’s whar it gits me,” am the old trapper
shook his head wisely. “ In the first place, plan
number one, we [nought one on us go onto a
smellin’ expedition into the village, an’ try to
diskiver the truth in that air way; but, that air’s
mighty dangerous, ’cos it would have to be done
arter dark, an’ ten chances to one we wouldn’t
l’aru any thing, an’ would only have our trouble
fur our pains. You see it wouldn‘t do fur ary
one on us to go, fur the durm-d Indian docs
would smell out that we were white-skins quick-
er‘n a wink; they know a white man as fur as
they kin smell him. Why, even one of the In-
jun ponies will raise old Cain at the sight of a
white; the dumb brutes know we ain’t friends.
So the only chance would be fur to send Mud-
ho e. In the darkness he might be able to walk
right into the village and right out of it, an’ the
Blackfeet not a bit the wiser.”

“ That might do,” said “7 right.

“ Yes, it mouglit; but I've got another plan,”
said the Giant Trapper; “ that is, to captivate
one of the In’f'un squaws an’ frighten the truth
out of her. ‘ho only objection to that air is
that ef we let her go a’gln, she’d have the hull
village down ’bout our ears jist like stirrin’ u a
hornet’s nest. I guess the best way will be to at
Mudholo sneak into the village, artcr all.”

“Yes, we can give him instructions,” said
VVri ht.

“ gartin,” replied Sol; “ he’ll foller ’em. He’s
jist as true as steel; you’ll find him squar’ every
time; of it ’tain’t so 1 don’t want a cent. But,
let’s have some supper.”

“ Supper!” cried Courtney; “ that’s a good
idea; but I wish we had something besides dry
beef and corn,” which two articles being port-
able and easily carried, Constituted the previ-
sions of our adventurers. During the first of
the trip, the rifle of the trap r had produced
many a palatable addition to t eir store, but for
the last two days, since entering the rough and
timbered deflles that stretched down from the
Rocky Mountains to the Flathead river, the
trapper had strictly forbidden the use of fire-
arms.

“We air in the enemies’ count , an’ we
mustn’t sacrifice our top-knots for t e sake of
our stomachs,” he had quaintly observed.

“ Got tired of dried beef an’ corn, hey i” asked
the trap r.

“ Yes, ’ replied Courtney.

“How would you like some baked trout,
nice, lively leetle spotted tellers?” asked Sol,
with a grin.

“Just you try me with a few,” cried Court-

ey.

“ “'e’ll have ’em for our su per to-night,” re-
sponded the trapper. “ This eetle brook is full
on ’em. 1 guess I kin risk a fire-a leetle one
jist big enough to cook ’em of I cover it up well
an’ kee ) the smoke under. Here’s a line,” and
he pr uced a couple from his pocket. “Jist
try your luck down the brook, an ef, in half an
hour, we don’t have a mess of speckled beauties,
just you call me a nigger, that’s all.”

Courtney took the line and strolled oil? down
the stream. Some hundred yards or so beyond,
the brook took a sudden turn, and Courtney,
following it, was hidden from the si ht of the
others. A little way beyond the nd the
brook plunged down over a rocky ledge, form-
ing a c arming little cascade. Underneath this
cascade was a dark, deep pool, the very haunt
the agile brook-trout, the king of the fresh-wa-
ter fishes, delights in.

Courtney, turnin over a decayed stump, ro-
curcd some little w ite grubs for bait, and t en
cast his line into the silent pool. Searcer had
the line touched the surface of the water, ere a
fine, large trout made a dash at it, hooked him-
self, and was soon drawn out on the shelving
bank. Courtnev knolt to release the hook from
the mouth of the fish. As he did so, a slight
noise in the bushes near him attracted his atten-

 

 

tion. It sounded as if some one, moving cau-
tiously within the thicket, had stepped upon a
dry twig, and it had snapped beneath the pres
sure of the foot. For a moment Courtne lis-
tened, his eyes fixed upon the thicket near im.
The noise was not repeated, and Courtney, satis-
fled that it was only some small animal or bird
forcing its way through the shrubbery, turned
his attention again to the fish. The youn man
was no woodman; no prairie captain was ie; he
knew not that, in the wilderness, the woodman
looks for a foe in every bush, sees the presence
of the red—skinned warrior in the rustling of the
leaves, detects the )ainted foe in the waving of
the long grass. T l0 soft wind warns him of
danger, the yellow earth beneathhis feet tells of
the coming fight.

But as we have said Courtney was no sh
eyed mountain—man; he knew nothiivr of t '
wiles and tricks of the human hyenas w 10 roam
the vast expanse of irairie wilderness that,
broken by the Rocky Mountains and its ranges,
stretches from tho ( iulf of California to the
dense forests of British America.

As Courtney knelt by the side of the fish to
extract the book from his mouth, the dense
bushes ten paces back of him were aimed noise-n
lessly, and forth into the little r ade came a
painted savage. Four other Indians followed
the first—creeping toward the unconscious
white, slowly and noiselessly as the snake glid~
ing toward its prey they came. A moment
more and the foremost savage—who was none
other than the chief whom we have seen barter-
ing for the skins at Fort Benton—W'hite Wolf,
stood within striking distance of Courtney.
Slow] the red-skin raised his tomahawk, a mo-
ment e held it poised in the air over the head
of the unconscious man; then it descended swift
as the lightning's flash, and, striking the oung
adventurer on the head, felled him sense ess to
the earth.

Courtney fell without even a single cry. Ex-
tended upon the earth he fell, stunned, and si.
lent as death; but the young man was not dead.
The savage had struck him with the blunt edgz
of the Indian ax, seeming with the intent
stun, not to kill him.

With a.grim smile, the White Wolf looked
upon the face of the senseless man.

“The white chief is no fox; he has not the
cunning of Lor'rlcgs; his seal would hang in
the Wigwam of 1. 1c Blackfoot, ut the red~xnnn’s
heart is big, and he remembers that the pale-
face saved the Flower of the Blackfeet from the
Big river braves. Young Bear,” he said, turn-
ing to one of the foremost Indians, “carry the
white-skin to the lodges of the Blackfeet; bind
him hand and foot with the thongs of deer-
skin.”

The chief obeyed the words of the White
Wolf by castin the senseless form of Courtney
u n his shoul er as if it were the body of a
c ild, so werful was the Indian.

“Long egs can not be far away. He will not
be taken as easy as this young chief, but he
shall never return to the Bi riVer; ne shall die
by the hand of the Blackfoo .”

One of the Indians who had noticed the foot-
prints of Courtney, and which way they came,
now s ke:

“T 6 white brave came down the stream,"
pointin to the footprints. .

“We 1!” said the White Wolf, With a t
of satisfaction as he noted the marks. “ oung
Bear go with the white brave to our wigwams,
the rest follow me.” .

Young Bear, with Courtney upon his shoulder
still senseless, stepped of! light y With his load
in a north-west direction.

As the reader has doubtless guessed from the
words of the White Wolf, the meeting with
Courtney was by accident. From the outcast
chief, the Spotted Elk, these Blackfeet knew of
the expedition of which Longlegs, or, as we bet.
ter know him, the Giant Trapper, was the guide;
but they did not know the exact direction the
whites would come in their approach to the In.
dian village. So, for the three davs preceding
the one in the evening of which they had on
tured the helpless Courtney, they had scouted in
a circle, some ten to twenty miles from the vil.
lage all around it, carefully looking for traces
of the white adventurers. Thus had they hap-
pened to surprise the young man by the side of
the trout-stream.

The Indians had one great advantage of the
little party of whites led by the old trapper.
Thanks to the Spotted Elk, the knew the ob-
ject of the Whites, while they, t e whites were
journe 'ng onward, hopin to surprise the In-
dian village, and by cunning and stealth steal
the treasure which Wright valued at fifty M
sand dollars.

 

8

 

 

“Shall we attack the whites?” asked one of
the braves.

“ N o ” answered the White Wolf, “ the white
chief, nglegs, is as cunnin as the beaver;
like the wolf at bay, he fights ard. The Black-
feet would kill the white chief Longlegs, who
traps the beaver by the lodges of the red-men;
but, if the red-men give the white chief a
chance he will run—and his legs are long like
the elkls. If the red braves hem him in he will
fight, and his rifle shoots man times at once.
Four Blackfeet are not enoug
legs. The red chiefs will see where the pale-
faccs have can-pal; then they will return to the
Blackfoot lodges, get more warriors, and burst
upon the white. skins like a panther.”

The other chiefs gravely nodded assent; they
had all witnessed the prowess of the tall hunter,
and the quick-repeated shots of his death-deal-
ing rifle, and they had grown to look upon the
white trap mm as a ver dangerous, subtle foe,
and one whom force 0 numbers alone could
crush. The reasoning of the I-Vhite IVolf ap-
peared ood to them. Their chief’s courage no
one of t 10 Blackfoot tribe could gainsa ; it had
been tried on many a bloody war-pat against
the whites, proved on man!)r a fierce raid in the
Crow country. So, silent y, the red chiefs fol-
lowed the White Wolf, as ' 0 advanced cautious-
ly up the stream, following the traces of Court-
neyv’s ste .

0 Will leaVe the Indians—like so many
bloodhounds, following the white man‘s trail—
and return to th( ‘ndian who was named the
Young Bear, and who bore the form of the
senseless Courtney along on his shoulder, as
though it were the carcass of a deer.

On through the wilderness with a long, loping
stride, went the muscular savage, over llll an
dale, through brush and brier; the darkness de-
scended upon the earth, but the savage halted
not; onward, straight forward toward the In-
dianvil e he went, nd turned from his ath
by rock, rush or streamlet, and some t ree
hours after the time of Courtney’s capture, with
his helpless burden on his shoulder, still insensi-
bliiafathe Young Bear strode into the Blackfoot

ge.

The Indian deposited his risoner on a couch
of buffalooskins in one of t e vacant lodges in
the center of the village, then he bound the
hands and legs of his captive to ether tightly
with stout bonds of deer-skin, an , having thus
insured his safet he left him.

As the Youn r stepped from the lodge,
he was oonfron by the figure of the voung
Indian girl, whom we have seen with the White
Wolf in the frontier settlement. She was call-
ed b the Indians White Bird, and in their fan—
cif manner further named the “ Flower of the
Blackfeet." .

The full moon, now sliim'n clear in the sky,
threw a flood of pure, soft lig t down upon the
village.

By the rays of the moon the Indian girl per-
ceived a blood-stain upon the hunting-shirt of
Young Bear, caused by the blood that had
gridded down from the wound in Courtney’s

cad.
“The oung chief has been wounded?” the
girl asked.

She had rightl guased that, by this time,
the party to whic her lover was attached must
be near the Indian village, and the blood-stain
on the huntingshirt of the young brave alarmed
her. She feared that a meeting already had
taken lace between the Indians and the whites.
That t at meeting would be a bloody one she
knew too well, for she had overheard the conver-
sation between the White wolf and the Spotted
Elk the outcast Blackfoot braVe, in the white
settlement. That the purpose of the whites
had been betrayed to the Indians, and that the
red braVes were already on the watch to sur-

rise the long—legged trapper and his compan-
fons she also knew. Little, though, did she
think that, even then her lover was wounded
and aprisoner in the hands of his foes. How
could she guess that Courtney, the young white
chief, the first man who h eVer pressed the
warm passionate love-kiss upon her red lips,
was now bound, hand and foot, with the un-
yielding withes of deer-skin— that life and
geath even now contended which should posse‘ ss

1m.

“No,” re. ondcd the chief, proudly. “The
blood on t e hunting-shirt of the chief is
white.”

The 'rl‘s heart sunk at the words of the
YounggBear.

to fight Long- 1

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

 

prey; they struck him as the forked light of
the Great Spirit strikes the big tree; he sunk
beneath the arm of the Blackfoot, and is now a
captive in the red-man’s lodge.”

‘ Where?” questioned the girl, eagerly.

“ There,” replied the warrior, pointing to the
Wigwam from which he had come, and in which
i the helpless prisoner was confined. “Would
; the White Bird look upon the pale chief, let
| her enter and she shall see the foe of the Black—
; feet, crushed beneath the foot of the red-man.”
Saying which, the warrior stalked off toward
his own Wigwam.

 

; the white prisoner. All was dark within, rot,
l despite the gloom. she could distinguish a
5 form, extended on the buffalo-skins, and hear
T the heavy breathing as of one in pain.

With a heart sick with apprehension. the
I White Bird knelt by the side of the helpless
} man. She pushed the tangled ringlets of his
1 hair back from his feverish temples; the dark—
; ness was so dense she could not see his face, but
her heart told her that she knelt by the side of
her lover.

A moment she remained by his side, listening
to his heavy, painful breathings; then she arose,
and with a light step flew to her own Wigwam;
there she procured a small vessel of water, and
with it she returned to the side of the captive.
Carefull she bathed his forehead: she loosened
the tig it bands that bound his wrists; his
breathing became easier; he turned restlessly
upon his side; his senses were returning.

“ Where am I?” he murmured.

His voice told the girl that she held her lover
in her arms.

“ Harry!” she cried, softly, “ dear Harry!”

Courtney knew the voice.

“ White Bird!” he exclaimed, as with rapture
he pressed her to his heart.

 

CHAPTER VI.
LONGLEGS SHOWS FIGHT.

HARDLY had the White Wolf and his war-
riors left the little glade where they had suc-
ceeded in capturing Courtney, and their forms
were hid by the bushes, as they followed the
trail that led up the little stream, when, forth
from one of the clumps of trees—the same covert
that had hid the savages-stepped the Giant
Trapper. He, too, like Courtne , had followed
the streamlet down; he, too, ad heard the
crack of the dried twig that had snapped be-
neath the foot of one of the Indians; but, unlike
Courtney, the sound had excited his suspicions;
he had sou ht the thicket for the cause of the
sound, and e had found it in the persons of the
Indian braves.

“Wal, we’re in fur it now i” cried the trap-
per, as he stood fora moment thoughtfully inthe
center of the little glade. “ They ve ca tivated
the young feller, true as preaching. ow on
airth did the red devils know that we were in
this nei hborhood, or did they stumble on us,

jist by uck?” The trapper ndered on the
matter for a few moments. “ ot much chance
to carr out our idees now.‘ It'll be all we kin

do to 00k after our top—knots. I don’t intend
that they shall hang mine up to dry in the
smoke of any Injun villa e, ef I know myself;
but, ef we ain’t mighty cerful, they’ll gobble
us in jist like a toad eats frogs.”

The trapper looked for a moment in the direc-
tion that t 6 Indians had taken; not a sound
could be heard denoting that there was life
within the rocky wilderness. ,

“To think of the painted se’fents comin’
right on top) on us in this ’ere \ 4y! Why, it
riles me rig t up like a big flood does one of our
rivers. I’m 'ttin’ mad!
across one o
I be justified in goin’ fur him?” and the trap-
per thought for a moment over the knotty

int.
p0“ By Cain!" he cried, slapping his thigh noise-
lessly. “I’ll go fur cm tooth an’ nail! The
red heathens have got Courtney; they know
we’re hyer; we’ve ever 'thing to make an’ noth-
in’ to lose by a fight. ’11 giVe the ainted im
a chance to tote another carcass o to their “11-
lage, but it shall be a red instead of a white
man this time, an’ thar won’t be any doubt as to

S’pose I should rim

 

1

whether he’s dead or alive. ” And the trapper
shut his teeth together with a determination

} that boded ill to the White “'olf and his hand.

“Now, I mustn’t run in too close on ’cm,”

- muttered Sol, as he followed carefully in the :
track of the savages, “ else they mought lift my !

“ The youiéglchief has fought with the whites?” i ha’r instead of my lifting thar ha’r, which I cal-

sheI uestion
0;
“the white brave like the eagle upon his

, fearing the worst.

1 culate to do.”
the warriors of the Blackfeet came 1

On went the old trapper, slowly and noise-

. lessly.

 

I The Indian girl entered the Wigwam that held .
k , the deadly toe in their rear, \\ ho was (sch no
ar ‘

these heathen devils—wouldn’t ,

 

To the looker-on—could there have been on.
stationed in the skv—the wilderness would have
resented a singu sight. First came “lite
olf and his three Blackfoot followers, in cl.-
ing patiently the. footsteps of Courtney, («x3 (ct-
ing each moment to pounce upon the camp of
the whites: in their rear came the old nap] er,
following their trail with all the patience of a
sleuth-hound.

The tra per was aining slow] , but sure] ,
u on the ndians. (. nce ( r twice he had caught
Sight of their dusky forms as they lid(d from
bush to bush, intent on concmling t ieir persons
from the expected fee in ilont, not drunirg of

ment gaining slowly but certainly upon tl.t m.

The shrill cry of a horse lucke my 11 the :till.
ness of the twilight hour. The C! y came in n.
the trap er’s pony. The sapacions animal in d
“wind ” the 'a proach of the red-men. "it-e
old trapper hug ed silently to hin self atjhc.
sound.

“ I knew the little beast would smell ’cm out
soon. Now, Mudhole on ht to know what ll at
air means ef he‘s got i :e sci-so of an owl.
Ah! the red devils are deliberating, cuss ’(ml‘
Thar’ll be a dead Injun round hyer in ’bout twc.
minutes.”

The trapper drew from his belt the keen~cdged
hunting-knife; carefully ran his finger over the
ed 6; it was sharp as a razor.

3 he had said, the Indians had paused at the
shrill cry of the horse, and were clustered to-
gether, apparently in council.

Noiselessly and with the stealthy caution of
the nthcr stealing upon his prey, knife in
ban , the lion—hearted haprer approached his
foes, taking advantage of every tue, (ach piece.
of rock to shelter him from the gaze of ti 8 Ir.-
dians, should they chance to look behind thu; .

The warriors were holding a council.

“ It was the neigh of a horse," said the W’hite
Wolf. “We are then near the camp of ile-
whites.”

“ Good ” answered the warrior who stood and
to the White W'olf. “Shall we surprise 1l.e
white—skins in the night?”

“No ” anSWered the White Wolf, “ we are tm
few. nglegs and his braves have rifles tl at
fire many times. One of my warriors shall
watch the palefaces: the rest shall return with
me to our lodges and at daybreak, when tle
light comes, we’ll hunt the white warriors to
death. Is it ocd?”

“ It is good, ’ replied the chief, who had asked.
the question—a tall muscular brave who was
known amen the B ackfeet as Tall Bull. The
other two In ians nodded assent to the words of
the chief.

“One will stay and watch the white-skins?"
questioned the Tall Bull.

“ The chief has spoken,” gravely answered the
White Wolf.

“The Tall Bull is a eat brave of the Black-
feet; he can look a at to death!” said the
chief, proudly; “he will sta and watch the

e-faces till the White Wo , comes lack with

is braves. Is it good?”

“ It is 00d!” replied the White Wolf ; “n
brother 5 all stay. In the night, when the Tall
Bull hears the cry of the (:“1, let him led: for
the coming of the warriors of the B18 ckfut.”

Then, swiftly and silently, the “bile Wolf
and the other two Indians retramd tieir s1qs,
leaving Tall Bull to watch the v bites.

The Giant Trap r had erceivcd the ccrrcil,
and had concealec hirrse f carefully [third a
dense clump of bushes; extending himsrlf at:
full len th upon the ground and farting the
bushes fore him, he could easily match the
Indians.

The IVhite “'olf, followed by tle two v. ar-
riors, came by the hiding-place of the tray per.
taking a. course, however, that led thtm “ice
of his trail, which they would surely have dis-
covered—although it was now getting quite
dark, and the discovery triglt have. ltd to m u-
blesome conscquences for the incltmiteblc Eel,
as he would have lien srircurded 1 11¢ 1n-
dians, front and rear. Now he had ‘ut aiin-
gle foe to deal with—the I'lackfcot irate. lle
Tall Bull, who kept watch between him and the
cam of his assoc1:.~tes.

“ ’ve got to git past that air feller to git ii to
the camp,” said the tra per, musingly; “ the
Injuns know that we air lIver: they’ll prclxlly
bedown onto us hide an’ hair ’fore tle morn-
ing; we’ve not fur to make a run fur it. In’
how on airth air we a—poin’ to do it vith ills
critter watching us? That’s the qrmtitn. an"
tlmr ain’t any dcdgin’ it that I kin tee.” Then
the trapper took another lock at the Indian le-
fore him. In the dim light, Sol could distinguish

8m

that the warrior was leaning carelessly

 

 

Sol Ginger.

9

 

the trunk of a tree, keeping apparently close
watch on the wilderness before him.

“It has got to he did; it’s no use talking.
Either he or me,” said the trap r, rising slowly
to his feet and beginning his vance on the un-
conscious savage before him.

On went the Nemesis, knife in hand, foot by
foot approaching the Indian1 $10wly but surely.

The savage had his eyes carefully fixed upon
the open space before him beyond which, as he

eased, 1a the camp of the whites. Little did

6 dream t t danger was nigh, that the white-
Ikinned trapper, the famous Longlegs the
beaver-catcher was on his trail—nay, more, that
the keen-ed hunting-knife was even now
drawn, ready to be dyed in his heart’s blood!

The Blackfoot chief, watching eagerly and
intently for signs of the white-skins in the wil-
derness before him, was thirsting for the blood
of the palefaces; why not others seek for his
blood?

With a snake-like motion, the Giant Trapper
had crept over the little space that separated
him from the Indian; arriving at length within
reach of his rey, he prepared for the final
movement. moment he crouched. like the
tiger Ere aring for his 3 ring; then, like the ar-
row ur ed from the w, knife in hand, he
s rung upon the unsuspecting savage. One

sadly stroke, and the keen-edged hunting-
knife, driven by the strong arm of the White
Avenger, was buried to the hilt in the body of
the Win rior. A single moan of in alone es-
caped the Indian as the keen knife let out his
life-blood; a. moment the sava e tottered, sway-
ing like the pine tree struck y the liglitning’s
blast, and then he fell forward on his face, stone
dead. The Tall Bull had given his last war-
whoop, had trod his last war—trail; the Black-
foot warrior was now but a iece of senseless
clay, lying on the earth at the set of his mortal

enemy.
t For a moment Sol gazed upon his prostrate
0e.
“ It seems a it; ” he said, uite mournfully,
“ to kill any oprod’s critters, ut it were either

his life or mine, one or the t’other, an’ in sech a
case, better him nor me. He wore a lon -leg-
ged chap too,” continued the trapper; loo 5 as
of he mought ’a’ fought Old Satan. ’

The Giant Trapper bent over the rostrato
warrior and drew the hunting-knife mm the
body; the blood gushed out afresh. The old
tra per, in spite of himself, shuddcred at the
sig t thatfin the dim twilight, looked doubly
horri 1e. e wiped the knife carefully in the
earth, by thrusting it in to the hilt and then
drawmg it forth.

“It seems a pity that we can’t live in this
world without 3 eddin’ blood, but it can’t be
did; meg critter reys on some other critter
weaker an itself,’ said the trapper to himself,
softly; “ but thar‘s no use er in’ over spilt milk.
I reckon thar’s many a re heathen will feel
the p’int of my knife or the bullethof my rifle
afore we git out of this. We’re in a. pesky
scrape, an’ that ain’t no two ways ’bout it.
Sol! ’ he cried, addressing himself familiarly,
“ ef on‘ve got an bit of sense now’s the time
to s ow it. I’ll eave this feller jist where I
struck him; the red devils will be arter us afore
we’re many hours older. Now fur the camp.”

Saying which the trapper proceeded up-
stream. A few minutes’ walk brou ht him to
the glade where he had left Wrigh , Mudhole
and the horses. To the trapper’s astonishment
he found the little glade empty, except that the
horses stood quietly browsing upon the young
shrubs where they had been tethered. _

“ Wa-al !” cried the trap r, in astonishment
“ have the red heathens go bled up Wright an_
Mudhole, an’ without makin’ any row ’bout it
too? It bea‘s Ned!” ‘

But, as if in answer to the trapper’s speech,
forth from the little thicket in front of _whic_h
$6 dhorses were tied, came Wright, rifle in

n .

“Is that you, Sol?” asked the adventurer, .as
he came toward him, hardly able to distinguish
him in the dim light.

“Wa-al, I reckon it is,” replied the trapper.
“ \Vhat in thunder were you a—doin‘ in thar?”

“ Your horse a few minutes ago seemed
alarmed at the approach of something. .I re-
membered what you said in regard to his .snigu-
largift for smelling out Indians, and thinking
probably that there might be some approaching,

took to cover.” I

“You were right, by hookey!” cried Sol;
“ he leetle animile was right every time, you
bet!”

“Are there Indians near, then?” eagerly
Inked Wri ht.
“th. that were Indians near, an’ that’s

 

a dead buck putty near now,” replied the trap-

r.
pe“ You have had a fight, then?”

“ No; it were too one-sided to call it a. ht;
I stuck the Injun in the back, an’ he droppe to
onc’t.”

“ Only one i”

“Yes; of thar had bin more, the fight would
have been onesided t’other we. 2”

“ Are we in danger now?” as ed Wi‘i ht.

“ You kin 'ist bet we air!” replied t e trap-
per. “The njun that I killed were left as a
sort of scout upon our movements.”

“The Indians know of our presence here,

then?”
“ Wal, the jist do!” cried Sol. “How on
airth they ' kivered it I don’t know, unless

they stumbled onto our trail by accident.”

“Have you seen Courtney?”

“Poor feller!” replied the tra per; “he’s a

risener in the hands of the cusse red heathens.

hey hit him a clip side of the head, I s’ ose,
fur he were stunned aii’ senseless when got
thar, an’ then they totcd him off on thar shoul—
ders. I should have piled in an’ tried to rescue
him, but I didn’t know but what thar were a lot
of In'uns back in the bush, an’ of course it
woul have been folly to risk my own life with-
out any chance of saving him.”

“That’s very true; but what is to be done?”
asked Wright, with evident anxiety.

“That’s what we’ve got to find out. We’re
in a tight place, thar ain t any use backin’ round
the truth. ’Stead of gittin’ that air treasure
that you’re hunting fur among the Blackfeet
we’ll be lucky of they don’t git our scal ,”’

said the trapper, uietly and earnestly. “ ut,
what’s become of Iudlioleé”
“ I don’t know,” answered Wright. “ A few

minutes after you and Courtney Went down the
stream, I looked round to speak to him and
found that he was gone. He must have left the
glade nearly at the same time as yourself.”

“ \Val, that air is stran e,” said the trapper,
thoughtfully. “ I kinder ave an idea that all
ain’t right ’bout that Injun; he’s acted putt-y
311601‘ ever  we started onto this tramp.

orusalem! ef he’s betrayed us to the Blackfeet
I’ll never have faith in human natur’ arter-
wards.”

“If he has betrayed us, we are lost!” cried
\Vright.

“ 1 wish to thunder we were lost, so that the
darned red-skins couldn’t find us, anyhow I” re-
turned the trapper, with one of his good-natured

rins.

“that is to be done?”

“ Play the fox an’ sneak fur our lives. I’ve
showed fight tonight, which is kinder onnatural
fur me; now I’ll try t’other way. The Black—
feet have felt my teeth, an’ I ’spect they’ll raise
kingdom come when they find that dead In 'un;
so now I’ll show ’em a bit of beaver cunnin .”

“ What is to be done with the horses?” asked
Wri ht.

“ e’ve gotto leave ’em to shift fur them-
selves. Thar ain’t any red Inf'un in the hull
North-west can ketch my leet e animile; she
knows enough to stay right round hyer, an’
p’r’aps your boss wi 1 keep mine company.
Anyways. we’ve got to try shank’s mare jist
now ” replied the trapper.

“ hat is your plan.”

“ You know I’ve trapped considerable on this
era river, anZthar am t an inch of it from whar
it takes its rise .in Old Rocky to whar it runs
into the Columbia that I don’t know. Wal, up
hyer, about ten miles, is what is called the
Great Car'ion; the Blackfeet run me through the
canon last spring—that’s the time they capti-
vated the peltries, that they traded down at the
fort, cuss em, for powder an’ lead. That time
I run through the canon I dodged the red hea-
thcns slick. You see, in the canon I diskivered
a httle cave; I hid in it an’ the red suckers
never found me, though they were a-howlin’ all
’round me. Now we’ll jist piit for that air hole
in the hill, an’ Jist throw the savages off the
track.”

“Will they not follow our trail?”

‘ ‘f Let ’em!” cried Sol, scornfully. "I reckon
Iain’t bin a trapper in these hyer regions fur
nothin’. Wait til we strike the Flathead river
an’ I’ll bother the kcenestqiosed red-skin that
ever smelt out a trail.”

“ But Courtney?”

“Jes’ you let us git out of this bobble, an’ I’ll
snake him out of the Blackfoot village as quick
as a wink. Ef I don’t, jist you put me to bed
with a rattlesnake an’ let him tickle me to death
with his tail.”

The trap r then released the horses—patting
the neck 0 his own little pony as he did so, as
much as to say, “good-by.” This done, the

' Now, this is my plan;

 

twain took their rifles and revision-pouches,
and struck off through the w' deniess in anorth-
western direction. After a tram of about two
hours they struck the valley t rough which
flowed the waters of the Flathead river.

CHAPTER VII.
THE TURTLE BECOMES AN EAGLE.

BY the time the old trapper and Wright ar-
rived at the bank of the rim, the moon was up
full in the heavens, and shed its clear, pure li ht
down upon the turbid waters of the F at-
head.

“ The onion is ’bout a half a mile up—stream:
the Iiijun village is ’bout four miles above that;
the cave we’re arter is right at the mouth of the
canon. You see the river h 'er flows over a
rocky bed, an’ it ain’t deep; 1 we've rot to do
is to wade iip-sh'oani to the cave, an’ e the red
heathens kin fi llor our trail, they kin jist take
my pile, they kin,” said the guide, with one of
his uaint smiles.

“ ut, will they not follow our tracks to the
river‘s bank i” asked W'right.

“ Sartin !” quietly answered the trapper.

“Will they not suspect that we have gone up
the stream.

“ What in ihunder’s to make ’em?” asked Sol.
“ Aint it more likely that we should go down the
stream instead of up right into their clutches?

1e red devils will foller
our trail, trace it to the river, conclude, in
course, that we’ve gone down—stream, an’ o
artcr us like all git out; an’ all the time we ll
be 1 in’ snug, right under their noses."

“ our plan is excellent,” cried Wright.

“Jes’ so; guess I ain’t trapped beavers onto
this ’ere stream for nothing; but, let’s be going;
time’s short, life is sweet, an’ if we want tokeep
our top-knots jist whar they air now, we won t
be slow in gittin’ up this. hyer river.”

So, into the river Sol went, followed by
Wright. A toilsoine, diflicult march was that
little half-mile up the rocky bed of the river-—
the water now u to their ankles, and then 
ing suddenl to eir waists.

At last t e march was ended and the two
stood within the gloom cave; the entrance to
the cavern was a small ole, some three feet in
circumference, hidden by branches and clumps
of bushes, so that no one, without close exami-
nption, could have discovered the secret hiding-

p ace.
Within the cavern was a small apartment,
possibly six feet square.

“ What do on think of this?" asked Sol, as
they entered e retreat.

Excellent!" replied “Iright. “ It will prob—
ably save our lives.”
‘ That’s so,” replied the trapper, earnestly.
“Without this we’d be gone-up suckers, sure;
but, how the red Diggers iskivered us is a. mys-

ter .’

‘y Can the Indian Mudhole, have betrayed us?”
asked Wright.

“Wal, I don’t know,” said 801, thoughtful] .
“The critter owed a great deal to me. Ef e

' has betrayed us the motive must have been a

werful one.”

“ Does Mudhole know of the existence of this
place?” asked Wright.

“ No ” answered the trapper confident] ;
“ ’tisn’t known to any living soul ’sides mys t,
that I knows on. I diskivered it b acc1dcnt.
Hyer we're safe. I’m a- in‘ to ta e a leetle
scout ’round the Injun vil ape, jistto see what I
kin diskiver. I have an idea that the 'White
Wolf went back to the village arter leaving the.
big In 'un as scout—the fellcr that I stuck—fur
to 't is warriors aii’ go fur us. If my idea is
right then the best time for me tosneak the boy-
out of the lnjun village will be to-night, when
the In ’uns are away onto the war- th ag’in’ us.
So, while they air iuntin’ us I’ll j st risk a visit
right into their village. un‘ p’haps I kin git the

oung feller out of his spe>ky scrape—that is, ef
e ain’t hurt too had.”

“Go then, in heaven’s name!” cried Wright
“ I wil await your return here.”

“ Jes’ so; but don’t show the end of your nose
outside of the cave, fur the red (lev1ls will be
all ’round us ’fore morning.”

“I shall be careful.”

“I shall be back in ’bout four hours,” added
So]. “I’ve got to kecp my wits ’bout me or .7
shall go plum into the clutches of these red
lieathens afore I know it. Ef by any accident
the sarpints do diskiver the cave, w y, you’ve
got the three rifles, an’ as only one man at a time
can git into the hole. you kin fight half a hun-
dred of the beasts without much trouble.” Then
the trapper crawled through the opening. step-
ped into the river and commenced his perilous
loom.

 

; / vwfll be slain and their scalps will
Igwifiwams of the braves of the Blackfeet.”

 

 

   

;. , j the only son of the White Wolf, and wh
“pier his guilt pasei

--s...een

has“ _ .
 thfinfiignglegs‘ shall not die 3” questioned the
.i ' . The chief did not answer. Evidently he wish-
: .mente’ silence, bespoke;

'. and prowl] of limb;
. ,gwk; from the nest hewae urled to the earth;

 

' We will leave Wright to enjoy the solitude of
the cave, to watch eagerly from the mouth the
surface of the moonlit river and the dense for-
est that shaded the opposite bank for evidence of
the savage foe, and follow the footsteps of the
giant trapper as he went on his dangerous ex-
pedition the object of which wasto rescue the
fapless Courtney from the power of the Black-
. eet.

The trapper proceeded cautioule up the
wamr-course after leaving the cave, ee ing as
he went within the shadow of the me (a that
overhung the turbulent stream. He prooeeded
for half a mile or so in the river—bed, then, se-
lecting a favorable s t for his purpose, where
the rocks opened an a ravine appeared he left
the water and plunged through the ravme into
the forest.

“These rocks don’t show footprints, thank

oodness 3” muttered 801, as he looked back or. .

t 0 border of the woods to the rocky pathway
over which he had come.

‘ “ Now fur the Injuu village,” he cried to blur
self,” he plunged within the thicket. “I de-
clare to goodness, ef I can’t do any thing c‘se,
I’ll it into the corral an’ set all the bosses lrose;
the nets will raise‘ a precious row gallopin’
over the village. I‘ve got to git even with these
’ere Blackfeet upon that air peltry business, dod-
rot th’eir copper-colored skins, the eternal hea—
then. ‘

After an hour’s tramp, Sol slackened his pace
and began to preceed more cautiously. Ills
Judgment had told him that he was drawing
near the village. Cautiously he proceeded.
Presently he heard the barking of a dog—a
sure si that the Indian encampment was near
at hen?

The brave man proceeded with increased cau-
tion. A few steps more and the tralépcr found
himself on the edge of the timber. efore him
was a little open plain, washed on one side by

z .the Flathead river, while the dense woods sur—

rounded it on the other three
In the plain the moon’s bright rave shone
down upon the rude encam ment. The trap-
per, from his ambush in the ashes at the edge
5% the timber, gazed upon the village of White
0 . '
“Now, how in thunder shall I diskivor‘in

, 'which air w' 'wam the young fellcr is shutu ?”
‘ > fig! Sol, as is eyes rested upon the Indian
8.

e  leave the trapper in his ambush and

‘ -‘ penetrate to the interior of the

In the center of the settlemen stood the

“ council-lodge,” where the chiefs met for doli-.

Iteration. Near the council-lodge was a wig.

' Vain a little larger than the rest that 'com-

, the encampment; this was She wi am
of the chief of the tribe—the lodge of the bite

01:0 ' .
In the lodge of the chief stood two warriors.
The lodge being dimly lighted by a little wick

. 1th in a Vessel of growing: can see the

forms and faces of the two Ind One of the

A ‘ chiefs. was the White Wolf, the other was the.

Indian who had shared the fortunes of the Giant

Trapper—he who was called, in derision, by the
Jett ers

of Fort Benton, Mudhole, but who was-—

d—in real-
lackfoot brave.
0 but
on for the squaw of the Gray
one da have been the chief of the

as our readers have doubtless
ity, Spotted Elk, the outcast

Eagle. won

 Blackfeet of the Fla heed valley. "

The cursed white-skins arein the Flathead

' vailey,’ said Mudhtfile, or, as we mu hereafter

call him, Spotted E .

“ Yes,” cepo‘lled the White Wolf, “ the chief
hem. The young white brave is now
‘I  er in the wi am of the Blackfoot.

, en the sun comes, t 6 rest of the vghitachitegg

y in

But, the 'White Wolf gave his word that the

flies
‘6 , o

; white trappenxik Iaonglegs, should not die,” said

' .
White Wolf's tongue is straight, not

speaks truthl’ replied the chief,

ed to evade the question, for, after a few mo-
' ‘ “‘ 'oung eagle; he was strong
0 son is the nest of. the

was once a
became-e. mud-turtle,  crawled ,;_in the

1‘: an: understood ‘ the means .02
megs f: he'lmew thettbeWhitewelfi-e.

 

Beadle’s Half-Dime" Library.

“It is true,” the younr Indian answered,
slowly “ the eagle is new a mud-turtle; the
Great t pirit has willed it; but, when he dies he
will sing the death-son of the Blackfeet.”

“Would not the mu -turtle like to be an ea-
gle a ain?” uestioned. the old chief.

“ _ ah! t is im iblel” answered the Spot-
ted Elk, slowly an sadly.

“The Gray Earle’s brother died last night,”
said the White V/olf. “He has no'kindred 1n
the tribe of the Blackfeet; if the White Wolf
brin . the Spotted Elk into the council-lodge of
the lackfeet as his son, what chief will dare to
lift up his voice against the chief of his tribe?”

“And will the White Wolf do this?” asked
the S .cind Elk, eagerly. '

“T .e mud-turtle shall become aneagle on one
condition.” .

I " Well '5” asked the young chief.

“The White Wolf has said that the white
i thief, Longlegs, shall not die; it is bad' the
; mover-catcher hunts in the valley of the lat-
head, the land of the Blackfeet; he kills the
beaver and the muskrat; the animals that swim
in the Flathead river belong to the Blackfeet;
the white trapper must die.” '

“ The “Thite Wolf would have his pledge re-
turned?” asked the S ottcd Elk. z

“ ch; then he wi take the Spotted Elk b
the hand; he will conduct him to the couuci -
lodge of the Blackfeet; he will say to the chiefs
andgvarriors of the Blackfoot nation, ‘this is
my son, the future eagle of his tribe,’ and what
warrior will dare say ‘ na ’l”

For a moment there was silence in the little
lodge. The Sgotted Elk was deep in thought.
If he returnc the pledge of the old chief he
would sacrifice the life of the white trapper—
the man who had protected him when he was
an outcast and a wanderer, but it would restore
him to his old position among the warriors of
the Blackfeet. The temptation was too great;
he could not resist it. To regain his former sta-
tion he would have given his life; besides, the
thought flashed rapidly through his brain, the
old trapper was not captured yet; the chances
were that he would manage to elude the search
of the Blackfeet and escape them. The Indian
knew full well the craft and cunninv of the
Giant Trapper; he felt assured hewoul esca e
the Indians; therefore even if be retained t e

remiss of the White war. it might not aid the

rap 1" it could only aid him in case he fell in-
to t 6 hands of .the Blackfeet and that they
would capture him was doubtfu .

At last the Spotted Elk spoke. -

“Goodithe S tted Elkreturnsthe promise
of the White \ elf; the white trapper shall die
by the hands of the Blackfoot warmers."

“ The mud-turtle shall become an eagle again,”
returned the old chief.’ “The warriors of the
Blackfeet are new in council; the White Wolf
m present his son to them and they shall honor

‘ Then, with a stately step, the White Wolf con-
ducted the outcast warrior to the ' council-lodge
of- the Blackfeet. '

All the chief warriors of the Blackfoot tribe,
then in the village—as, at the time we write,
the ma'ority of the braves were away on the
annual unting-expeditionsouthward—were as-
sembled in the council-lodge, waiting the coming
of their chief. ,

The 'White Wolf entered the council-lodge;

.behind him came the S tted Elk; the assem-

 

siou that they assume in the council-lodge, cok-
ed upon the face of the young brave—who for
three years been an outcast and a wanderer
from the tribe of his fathers—with astonish-

ment.

The ‘old chief paused in the center of the
council-lodge; each eye was bent upon him;
each ear listened attentively, for his words.

" Warriors of the Blackfeet,” began the old
chief, lookiu around With a. me estic glance,
“the White off is a great chic ; he does not
fear the hear when he comes from the big
mountains: his arm is strong and his heart
large; he is the chief of the Blackfeet that live
in the valley of the Flathead. Once he had a
son; the big clouds sometimes cover the moon;
when the clouds go the moon shines again; so
the clouds covered the son of the White Wolf;
but now the clouds are grne. The S tted Elk
is as cunning as the b9aver: babes 1' the white
tra . Langlem, and his bravcs into the valley
of. t Flathead; their scalns will hang in the
led a ofa Blackfoot. Will my brothers say

pigs of peace with the Spotted Elk!"

or a Went there was, silence in the coun-
.cil~'ledfze aflthe Blackfeet. . As the Wolf
 them-of 

 

 

bled warriors, despite t e usual :stolid ex res»

 

 

v I

by the Spotted Elk were dead; there was no one
to revive the charge against the young brave;
and in the savage assembl , as in the courts 0
'ustice of the civilized w ite man, wealth and
' h connections sometimes have great weight.
or a few moments the dead silence continued
within the council-lodge. Then an old chief
arose; he was one of the oldest and bravest
warriors in the tribe-a man of very great in«

fluence; on his words hung the doom of the '

Spotted Elk. .

“ The words of the White Wolf have fallen
upon the ears of the Blackfeet braves like the
s iring rain upon the ground: the have sunk in

ecp,” began the old chief. “ y should the
red warriors remember what is bad, and forget
what is good?” -

A hum of assent from the circle of braves an-
nounced their concurrence in the words of the
old Indian; evidently the verdict of the council
would be favorable to the Elk.

“ The S tted Elk is a bifi warrior; he is
worthy to the chief of the lackfeet; let my
brothers forget the past and think only of the
future. The long-logged trap r, the beaver-
catcher, is again. in the Flat ead valley} his
scalp must hang in the lodges of the Blac eet
Let my brothers smoke the pipe of peace and
then hunt the white-skins to t eir death.”

A grunt of approbation greeted the old war-
rior as he sat down. . ‘ .

And so the Spotted Elk, with the bloodof the
Gray Eagle upon his bands, was received back

again into his tribe; the outcast. was a wanderer

no longer. I

.The council ended: the Warriors filed cut of
the council-lodge and, led by the White Wolf
and the Spotted Elk, took the war-trail against
the whites. ,

The warriors glided like so many specters in
the moonli rht, t rough the Indian village. down
the slope t at led to the rivor, and crossing it,
fiisappeared in the dense thicket on the opposite

an {

Before crossing the. river, the White. Wolf
called the Young Bear to him, and, much tothat
warrior’s disgust, for he longed to join the war-
party, he gave him directions to renmmat the
village and watch the prisoner, Courtney. The
word of the chief was law; and, though the
young chief in his heart mighg’sfrumbleat. the
odice to which he had been a gned, yet out»
wardly, Indian-like, be manifested no ,
pointment.

The Young Bear beheld the warriors
and then took up his staticnlin front or the
lodge in whichwes confined the hapleasCeurt-

nev. . . _. -- , _
When the Blackfoot braves arrived on the op
posite bank of the river, the White Wolf divided
the party into three detachments. Onehe took
command of himself ; the second he "take
char of the Spotted Elk; the third 0 them-
man of the old Indian who had made We!»
ilnh tbs council-lodge, and who‘ was Tell
un er: » ' ' -

To. both the chiefs the White Wolf, gave full
instructions. The Blackfoot chief on ted that
the whites might have left the certifies-on
they had selected; he had divided e wanders
into three detachments that they might more

easily discover the trail of the, whites or the
Indian scout that he had left to.traek the

whites. .
Little did the Blackfoot chieftain sues that

the stout warrior that he had left in thethi

was now cold in death—that the keen steel 0
the white tra per the “beaver1catcber,”..as.the
Blackfeet ca ed him, had drank thank-blood
of the Tall Bull. ' ' .

CHAPTER V III.
our or THE INDIAN VILLAGI. '

User. a in Courtney held in his arms the
soft and y elding form of the fair young Indian

irl; but, how different now was his situation
from that in which he had been when
they had first met at Fort Bentonl Then he
was free, able to defy the malice of any fee;
new be was a prisonerin the hands of the
Blackfeet—the fierce savages of the North-west
-his lit'e scarcely worth an hour’s purchase. .

But, his helpless situation, the‘lrnowedgo': that

death might come at any moment from the
ruthless hands of the ravages, were all-f n ,
in t cone. sweet moment when be,_fcr: ,esc- -

0nd time, held. the White .Bird in his arms, and

ace. - . . r .. , , . .
“You are in danger!” murmured the girl.

 

' Then overlain mind, the £110th or" 
Winnindeed, was his  ; ‘

      

 

felt her form uiver beneath his  em-
tha the clouds hrs gone forevar. and smoke the -br ‘ q ‘ ‘ 5

 

 

3 w

 

 
  
   
 

 

\

Sol Ginger.

  

11

 

 

“ glen, dear one,” he answered, “ I am in dan-

“ And your friends?” uestioned the girl.

“I know nothintr of t eir fate. The savages
came upon me suddenly and stunned me with a
blow on the head; after that, I know nothing.
When I came to my senses I found myself here,
a prisoner, your arms around me, your greeting
rin ng in my ears.”

" cu must be saved!” she cried.

“I must, indeed, or die ’a miserable death,”
he answered.

- “ Where did you leave our friends? Can you

describe the lace?" aske the girl.

“Yes, I t ink I can,” answered the young
man. “I left my companions by the side of a
little stream that empties into the Flathead
river, coming from the east—”

“ Britter stream!” cried the girl.
Will Nyour com uions remain there?”

“ 0,1 thin not,” he answered; “the in-
tended to come to the Flathead river, I t llllli.
They wished to be near this village. There is
something here that they'wnnt.” -

“Do you know what It is?” she said, looking

‘ into the face of, the young man with a strange
expression.

“No: only that it is a treasure, and in com-
panion thinks~it is very-valuable,” said the
young man. .

“ know what it is,” said the girl.

. “ on do?” c1 icd. Courtney in astonishment.

* - “Yes; but the value your com anion .Sets
upon it, I can not undel‘stund,”rop led the In-
dian girl. “ Were it you. now, who set so high
a value upon it, I should not wonder at it.”

_ “Yous kin riddles,” said Courtney, aston-
ished, at. or words. “I can not umerstanl

'0“. . ._, , a . '
.r “ You will, soon,” she replied, “ If you were
 free from here, do you think you could flnd
‘_ j your com anions?”

 “Yes, think so; I would follow the river
 down to where the little stream runs into it,
 then follow the stream up; that would lead me

; to where we were' encamped. But I fear that
' my friends are in the hands of the Indians also.
. ‘No,” replied the girl; “ if the were prison-
ers, they would be here _ i es the great
chief,.the~White Weighed but few braves with
him-~39," match! for the canning ‘beavcra

 

a .kk

1'; _

“I know it.

 

1*

Ms...— ‘ I.‘..L'U<.

.v‘ "" “in. ..

 

  
  
  

 

“You. mean the Giant, Trapper?” said the

young _ ,
‘ - es, Long-legs, as the Blackfeet call him,” ‘
answered the gir . ‘
.1.) “True, theold tra
{is}; handles easy asI di-
 he said.
. 1 “ es;-.-klove you and brill saw you. , I will
untietbe thongs that bind. cu, wil bring you.
a blanket, and, in the ark. conduct you
through the village.” said the Indian maid. . v
“I shall owe you my life!” he cried, pressing
her and again to his heart, and covering
. her face with his warm, passionate kisses.
; J.‘ m will love me?” questioned the girl. .
. . I 93‘ You; I shall love you always!” answeredher

 moment the quick ear of the Indian
caught the sound of footsteps passmg by
ledge. Quickly she spirung to the door, and

t

   
 

 

    

.:l
ii
.‘4

*‘l per will not‘fall into their .
But can you free me?" ‘

'  pulling aside e skin that served as
omen, ked out upon the village. She saw
' that the were caused by the Indian

‘ ‘ waninrspassing the Wigwam and going into
thecouncil lodge. This fazt discovered she re-
turned to the side of her lover and told what
she had‘seen. .
“ What does it mean?” he asked.
“The-White Wolf must haye returned, and
, e; the braves am holding a conned,” she re lied.
v_  “ Does not that denote thatIthcy are a at to
 :1 go on the we.» nth i” he questioned.
‘ ' “Yes; the l hits Bird will listen to the coun’;
oil of the braves; then she can tell their plans.
.“That is an excellent idea I" cried Courtney.
“Let me replace the thongs on your wrists,
thmf my of the chiefs look into the lodge,
9' no sue t.
80 the White it’ll-La bound the wrists of Court-
may again with the deer-skin thongs; then With
ed from
abs

 

 

   
  
   

a tarewil}. kiss, she left his side and ste
than into the open air.‘ With-.11.
her way, not to thecouncil 1 go, but
- in‘ a direction .OXRCflV'ODPOSItG', but, when she
L sawhorse outsidedésof little-Circle of lodges,
V 9 - . c in _ _

" =  3“! km! the conned:
 from all obser-

' where shewas concealed .

   
    
 
   
  
 

     
 
  

  
 
   
   
 

' drew to resume his watch.

ht step '

with her course a ‘

 

  
  
 
 
    
 
  

“with  shade thrown by the wi » am.
I ~  .kni‘Ee‘banging at file 8
, “  the es of the 5

,,,y.\, .

ho izshoxild you'fcnri” id; x, . he“ v :t. ‘
53 wash-us _. new,» here
 5W. 7 . V, I _,’ .. _. 7. 

sea and hear all that passed within the council-
L e.

Stile was an attentive listener to the scene al-
ready described. Then, after the council was
finished, she saw the chiefs depart on the war-
trail against the whites, and in her heart she re-
joiced, for the warriors had left the village al-
most unguarded, and she thought that she could
easily save her lover. But, judge of her dis-
may, when sho saw the Youn Bear retlu'n at
the command of the \Vhite W'o t' and take up a
position in front 01' the lodge that held her lover,
a prisoner! Here was an unexpected obstacle".
To get Courtney from the Wigwam, with the
youn r savage keo 'iing watch before it, was difll-
culti not impossi 1c; yet the attempt must be
made. The war-party might return at any mo-
ment, and then her lover’s life would be in dau-

er. '

g A moment she thought: then, a plan came
into her mind, by means of “'lllCll she might
free the prisoner from the hands of the Black-
feel“.

With a loitering step the White Bird walked
down toward the river, takin" a course that
would lead her directly by the llt'xlge that held
Courtney.

The Indian on guard, the Young Bear, behold
the Indian girl approaching; he was not sorrv,
for, in his heart he had a secret liking for the
White Bird, but, being a young warrior, with
very little renown and no grcatdceds on the
war-path to boast of, he had not dared to lift
his eyes to the young beauty, the daughter of
the great Blackfoot chief, the White Wolf—for
she was indeed the daughter of that renowned
warrior. .

“ Has the White Bird seen the pale-face
chief?” he asked, as the girl came b him.

“ Yes,” she answered; “ but the pale chief was
asleep; is be awake now?”

“ I will wake him,” exclaimed the young
brave, glad of an opportunity to please the
maiden.

So, into the lodge went the Young Bear, fol-
lowed b the girl.

“ Wu 1! pale—face?” cried the warrior, in Eng-
lish, it being the only English he knew.

Courtney turned on the couch as if awaking.

“ Leave me your blanket to 'rest on, while I
talk to the white-skin,” said the White Bird. .

Gladly the young brave spread the blanket on
the earth-floor of the Wigwam, and then with
He knew that the

White Bird understood the stran langua e
of the pale-faces, and could talk the whi
man.

" White Bird?” said Courtney.

“Yes; I have returned,” said the l. “Do
not fear; speak freely; the young rave who
keeps wate does not understand your tongue.”

' “ He'is watching me, then?”
it Yes ’9

“ Then there is little chance of my escape.”

“You shall be free before the moon is two
hours older,” mid the 'rl. v

“How can I esca is notice?”

“I have a plan,’ she answered. “There are
but few warriors in. the village; the White
Wolf has taken the trail to hunt our friends
todoath.- \ou have been betray b the Iu~
than that I warned on not to trust in t e white
settlements b

the ig river.” . y -
“Mudhole!’ exclaimed Courtney. ' “He then

has 'ven us into the hands of the Blackfeet.”
‘6 es,” swored the girl. “His right name
is’Spotted

lk; he is the son of the White Wolf,
father.” - \

m

YtWhat?” cried Courtney, in astonishment.
“You are the daughter of the White Wolf, and
yet on love moi”

‘,‘ 'es; and. I will "save you from the Black-
feet. See this blanket,” she said, pointing to
the one left by the young chief. “I will decoy
the l-ravo away from the door of the lodge;
then you ut.on the blanket, walk through the
door, on cross ‘the little open spaco into the
tlncket'beyond; there “leave the blanket and I
Wlll .1011: you, then guide you to a place of
safety.” 4

“You are my guardian angel!” cried the
young man. ,- _

“ e ready. I will take the brave away.” .

T on the Indian girl left the lodge, first re-
movmg the thongs that bound Courtney.

“ Will the Young Bear walk with me to the
river?” asked the girl. ' ‘

The young brave hesitated. . . - *

, “ I am to guard the prinoner,” he re lied.
‘ “The prisoner is bound hand 8N foot; he
cannot move; he is wounded, too; what then

w»,-Wl\lt the. W1

 

..‘\.r"

   
 

 

a ing. So, without further reluctance he sig-
the gir .

c
n' ed his willingness to accompany
The simplohcarted rod-skin only yie ded to the
same fascination that stripped mm the Roman
Antony his share of the imperial city. The In-
dian brave was not the first manic yield to the
subtle lures ol’ womankind.

Courtney watched from the door of the lodgo
the departure of the girl and the warrior; then.
when he judged them to be at a safe distancd
and that the time had come to attempt to .es
cape, be hastily wrapped the blanket around
him and boldly stalked forth from the lodge,
crossed the little open space and gained the Web-
come shelter of the thicket. In the thicket he
dropped the blanket and extended himself at
full length in the bushes, to await the coming of
the Indian girl. .

The White Bird and the young Indian warrior
walked slowly down toward the river. Arriv-
ing at the bank, the irl paused.

‘Docs the Youn ear knowwherc the rat-
tlesnake iree (the w ite ash) grows by the bank
of the river?” '

(Among the Indian tribes of the North-west,

the twigs of the white ash are believed to have
the owcr to charm the rattlesnake.)

“ ‘ cs.” replied the brave; “ a big walk from
the. Village.”

“ No; the Young Bear is swift. What brave
of the Blackfoot tribe can outrun the young
warrior? The Young Bear will bring the White
Bird the twi s of tho rattlesnake tree?” And
the girl bent ier large dark eyes full uponfihe
face of the warrior. What mortal man, 1: J or
white, could refuse? The delicate compliment
plelgsed the Indian, but duty made one lust of-
01 *

“But the prisoner?” he stammered.

“The White Bird will watch for the Young
Bear," said the irl, with another Lewitching
glance of ‘her dar e es.

“it is good,” rep led the Young Bear; “the
chief will go ;” and with a long, lopmg stride, up
the river went the warrior.

The girl watched him for a moment, then
quickly retraced her steps, but insteadof going
to the lodge, she sou ht the thicket opposi ,
where she found Cour ney awaiting her.

“I have blinded the eyes of the young war
ideal for some little time; you are safe,"
or: . ' »
‘.‘ Thanks to you; you have preserved me!" or
claimed Courtney.

“But for a litt e time on] ; the warrior will
soon return, then your a nee ma be dis-
covered at any moment,” replied the l. »

“What shall I dot—endeavor to join to
friends by the little stream, or—” ‘

to Bird, anxiously;

“No, no!" cried the Will
“do not go there; the red braves are even now
thick in the forest. Should you meet ti:
they will kill you without me . Ah!” an

the girl started suddenly, as thong bitten by s ..

make.

“What is the matter?” . .

“Hush!” said the girl, listening. “Did you
not hear somethin ‘l” ‘

For a moment Courtney listened attentivel ,
but his car caught nothing but the usual mung.
of the forest. ‘ . . ,' . j .

“I can not hear any thing, he said "at 1e

“But I did,” responded the girl, still liste ng.
algksopgds as though some one moved in yonder

1 8v. » ‘f -.

“ Mglght it not have been abird or some small
anim i" asked the young man. His beam

was not as acute as that of the Indian moi

grained from childhood to the noise: or the wu-

ernass. .

‘ “ No ” answered the girl, with a shake o! the
head; ‘ the noise I heard
animal. Hush! tie there a l and she
pointed to a dense cluster of ‘nshes some ten
feet from the spot where'they stood. “’Tis a
fee, he shall die 1” and with the lightning dash
of the tiger, the Indian girl draw it e little knife
from her girdle and bounded toward the thicket.

Then from the coppice rose the tiger of a
man. and disclosed to the astonish clayes‘ot
Confirm the n of theold trapper.

“1101 on, youtcmale wildcat!” he‘cried, in I
cautious voice; “ don’t you prod me with that
air toad-sticker!” _ . :

“ Langlegs!” cried'the Indian girl.

was humanwot bird "or ‘

“ Jes’ sol” coolly relplied the trapper: “ that’s ‘

what your dml~rotte ‘reletions christen me!”

It was the trap ' indeed. Patientlyuhe had
waitedin his am 1811 for some oppor'
enter the town, but none had presented it

    
 

 

   
   

nit? to '

  
   
 
 
 

new , 
still'he',.waited h l a ainst he . He had 9
seen the 
we!  who, asluckawould- havetit 

     
  
  
 

 
  

   
   
  
    
   
    
    
 
    
    
    
     
        
   
     
  
     
   
      
  
   
  
   
  
  
            
       
         
     
     
              
         
         

 

‘. stride went the trapper, closol

, re

12

Beadle’s golf-Dime Library.

 

“ How long have you been here?" asked the
Wotan.
“ igh onto two hours. Irmkon,” replied the

trapfia

‘ I did you not discover yourself to me
before? Cour ney asked.

“ Wal, I didn’t know as you’d expect to see a
friend hyer, in the bush..'.:~.n’ I thought likely ef
I jumped up on on sudden, you mought have
took me fur an jun, an’ gone fur mo jist as
that air gal was a—goin to.” ‘

“ Where’s your companion i” asked the girl.

“Safe as a bug in a rug!” exclaimed the

in'apg‘e‘r.

‘ n {:11 conceal yourself and him "—she
referred Courtney—“so that the Blackfeet
can not discover out”

“You bet!” cried the trapper, emphaticallv.
“ I kin hide him whar all the red Injuns of the
North—west wouldn’t find him.”

‘v‘ You will go with him, then,” said the girl
to Courtney.

“And you?” cried Courtney, “will you not
go with me?”
gut; To-night, no; tomorrow, yes,” answered the
“ Wh not to-night ?" questioned Courtney.

“If remain in the village I can discover
whether the Indians will search for you, and
what plan they will form to capture you; then

' I can come and tell you, and you can avoid

them. "
“ The gal speaks sense, by hookeyl” cried the
trapper; ‘let er have her own way; she knows

“Do as you think best, for heaven’s sake!”
cried Courtney; “but, be careful of your life;
wuen and where shall I see Eon agaipl’

“ 'l‘o-morrow night, the p

"Ef I might a est, ma’m,” said the old
trapper, “ you had tter let me come fur you.
I’m used totue woods an‘ he ain’t. ”.

“You speak wisely,” said the girl_. “ Where
shall I meet you?”
' “Right hyer. on this ’ere spot. I guess they
Won’t ex t to find ‘ Longle s,’ as they call me,
10th t eir wigwams," sai tho trapper, with
a Quiet chuckle. ’

‘It is good,” replied the Indian girl. “To-
morrow night then, when the sun goes down
and the spirit lights begin to shine, you will be

e

re.

“Bet your life onto it, every time!”'said 801,

with one of his peculiar grins, for the old trap-
was in high spirits at the thought of battling
he Blackfeet.

“ Good-by,” said the girl, looking into her
lovar's face with a longing l k of her large
dark e es; “do not fear: the hits Bird will
count 'hours till she secsgvour face ’ ”

A moment Courtney hel her in s arms;
their lips met in a farewell kiss, and then the
Indian ‘rl, taking the blanket that had dis.

m l e young man,returnedagain to the

o 
“Perhaps I have seen her for the last time-—

rha m li never agam‘ will touch her soft

'gleioekg’sc ed ney, as the of the In-

dian girl was hid from his gaze . y the walls of
the lodge

" Cheer up! Hope fur the best!” cried the old
trapper in a lively tone. “The gal's a trump,
every time! I ouldn’t mind, captivatin a
critter like her myself. But, come, we’ve go a
few miles to tramp aforo we’re safe from the
red devils.” ,

Thetrappcr struck out a path through the
thicket, and Courtney,,after a farewell glance
at the little lodge which had held him a prison-
er, but pow concealed only the slight form ‘of
the White Bird, the l-‘liwer of the Blackfeet,
turned and followed him.

CHAI’TEZ’. XI.

 

. m ransom WORTH FIFTY THOUSAND DOL-

Law.
On through the forest with a long, steady
followed by
Courtney. As near as he coal: calculate, Sol
took the same path returning to tho rivar that

behold trod in coming from it totho Indian vil-
, la. « So closely had the man calculated, that,

of re. long tedious tramp through the wood,
they struck the river, at the little ravine that we
have before mentioned.

  The two creased the rocks and entered’the

' ‘4"!  ’“ Bakeerful an’ pick your way, also you’ll go
' ~» I ‘ “Thrones inter moieties,» .” was the transpire
- ‘- I~ -g.atioa, as they commeaoedtheir journey.

 idem-g" mats. wish my
    

.- -,

 

“ Sartin!” replied the trapper, with a quiet
chuckle at the youn man’s ' norance of wood-
craft; “ but, s’pose t 6 red eathen foller us?
They kin track as easy from the village to the
river, but, at the river our footprints stop; nary
sign is there of the way we’ve one; but of we
were to go on the bank they don (1 track us clean
to our lndin’-place, an’ the chances would be that
our handsome top—knots would hang an’ dry in
the smoke of some big Injun’s lodge.”

“True,” replied Courtney; “I own I am no
woodman. I should be as one lost in this wil-
derness, were I alone.”

“ Jes’ so; but I reckon I know every stick of
timber, every foot of ground, an’ every inch of
water ’tween hyer an’ the Columbia river,” said
the trapper. '

After a weary march our adventurers reach-
ed the mouth of the little cave; into it, much to
Courtney’s astonishment, Sol conducted him.

“ Hyer we air, safe from any 'nted heathen
that runs on the top of the airt in this ’cre re-
gion,” cried Sol, as they stood within the little
cave.

Wright greeted Courtney and Sol warmly;
he had givon up all hopes of ever again seeing
the young man.

. Courtney briefly related his adventures since
he parted with his com anions by the banks of
the little stream. Wrig t listened attentively.

“For the resent, then, we are in safety 1”
W ht excla ed. a

“ ou bet! Don’t you worry ’bout the In uns,
they’ll never find us ’cept through acci out.
We ll jist stay hyer till to-morrow night; then
I’ll go up to the villa e, git the lactic gal, an’
arter that we’ll 't on of the lnjun countrg as
fast as we kin. ut, boys, the question is, ow
that's goin’ to be donel”.

“Wait here, I suppose until the Indians have

'ven over the pursuit, then make our way back

t 9 best way we can,” said Wright.

“ Then you’ve givan u ouri ee of goin’ into

' the Injun ' .” aske t old trapper.

“ To attempt to carr out my plan at present
would be madness. a he Indians are alarmed;
they know of our beinim the neighborhood; to

netrate to their vil ge nowvand secure the

easure that I am in search of, would be clear]
impossible' indeed, I think we shall be lucky if
WB' 811
a ” replied Wrigh .

j‘ har’s a- heap of truth in what you say,”
said Sol, gravely. “We air has y mess,
an’ than no two ways ’bout it. Our top-knots
air in r you bet!” _

“But, by the way, Wright,” said Courtney,
suddenly, “you have never told us what it is
that you seek .in this Indian village. What
treasure is there in the lodges of the Blackfeet
worth fifty thousand dollars?” .

“Fifty thousand dollars!” cried Sol
tonishlnent. “ I wouldn’t ve fift thousand
cents for the hull dog-so Blac oot nation,
cuss that copper-colored sun~tannedhides l”

“ Neither would I.” quietly observed Wri ht;
“vet there is a treasure in yonder little In ian

village that, if I had it in St. Louis, would sure.

inas-

‘ly be worth fif thousand dollars to me.” ,
“Explain, right, 'and tell us what it is,”
said Courtney.

“Well, since I have failed in my plan, I will
answer your inquiries; and, after have ex-
plained, you will see that my scheme for mak-
ing fifty thousand dollars was not.a visionary
one, and but for the sav discovering us, my
adventure would probab y have been success-
ful; but I must first speak of the past before I
tell of the present.” ,

“My story commences. some twenty years
ago. At that time a man named Samuel urtis
lived in St. Louis. St. Louis then was deeply
enga ed. in the fur trade." This Curtis was a
weal y fur merchant, was about fifty years
‘ old, and had a son, a wild young fellow, possess-
ing none of the father’s steadiness. Curtis the
elder had amassed a large fortune—report said
that he was worth fifty or sixt thousand dol-
lars. To this fortune his son, V illiam, was ,of
course the solo heir. J ung then of the father’s
astonishment and disgust—for he was a man of
goat pride and hauteurwwhen his only son, the

1r_ to all this vast property, married a r
sewmg-girl not worth a single penny. hen
the news of his b0 ’8 marriage mane to his ears,
the r e of the o d man knew no bounds. He
chiscd_ doors stance against. his own child
and his beggarly bride. as he termed the wife,
whose sole offense was that she was r; in ev-
ery other respect she was fitted to
1! fepfafm‘better manthanth

 Curtis. ‘ 1mm into

 

 

     

   

 

 

‘ condo‘,=batm
dechred

. in savin ourselves from the sav-'

 

his boy into a marriage for the aka of the mon-
ey that he would one day possess, and he swore
a bitter oath that not one dollar of his fortune
should ever go into her hands.”

“Why, the hard-hearted old cussx" cried Sol,
indignantly “ to turn ag’in’ his own flesh an
blood fur a little bit of dirtiemonefil I’m durn-
cd of money ain’t fur from in’ a lessin’ some-
times.”

“Very true," returned Wright, “but to go
on with my story. For a time the 5011 and his
wife struggled along in St. Louis. The father
was to them as an utter stranger. At last.
wearied by his fruitless struggle for life~—-for
young Curtis did not possess the iron will and
nerve of his father—he left St. Louis with his
wife, and threw his fortunes with a train of
emigrants for the North—west. When the fa-
ther was told of the resolve and departure of
his boy, he shOWed no signs of forgiveness.
‘He has chosen his bed; let him lie on it;‘ was
his cold reply to those who ogainvcntured to
intercede for the young ople.

“ Curtis, with is wi e, proceeded with the
emigrants to their settlement on the upper Miss
souri; then attracted by the gold discoveries in
California, he left his Wife and struck across tl.o
plains to try his fortunes in the mines. With

im my story has nothing more to do, as it is
unknown what became of him. 110 have rc—
turned to his wife, and was suppcscd to ave
died in California.

“The wife remained in the little settlement
where her husband had left her' a baby girl was
born to her, and then, some fifteen years ago,
when the child was four .yems old, she went
with some friends to the then new settlement
Elk Cit , though this was long lci‘ore it bad rc~
ceived hat name. The wife, whose. name was
Delia, ke t u a regular correspondence with her
folks in gt. ale, and from t em all these’par—
ticulars were gained. -

“Delia Curtis, with her little girl, had rot
lived a year in the new settlement, when the
Blackfeet Indians commenced a iii-roe war upon
the frontier settlements. Among other places,
the little settlement of what is now El City
was attacked and burnt to the ground; the in.
habitants were murdered b the Indians or car-
ried away into ca tivit ; ut few escaped to
tell of the savage s on b r.”

“Jes’ sol” interrup 801.
the few.” ‘ ,

“ You were?” eagerly guestione‘d Wright.

“I were,” repeated 01.. “I knowed Mrs.
Curtis an’ the lactic gal: they lived-right'on the
edge of the settlement, the fust home attacked
by the red heathen.”  -  '

“ Yes " responded Wright “so I was told ly
one of the survivors. Mrs. Curtis and her ( hild
were never seen after the Indian attack. ’QWhp

.ther they, were killed. by the Indians or cairied

awayr captive, no one could tell.”
. “ Val, the wasn’t killed, in the attackftlzat’s
a dead sure g ” said the old 
were one on the ellers that helps 0 the
bodies; but the savages mought .have knocde
’em on the head afterwards.” r

“After the departure of his scn tom 81:.
Louis, old Mr. Curtis sued his way through
the world as usual. 6 was told, of course,
of the supposed deaths of his son, his son’s
wife and aughter, and if the old and reported
of his hardness, outwardly he made no sign.
Years passed on; there was no one toinstltntea
search for the lost woman and chi] and the

affair seemed buried from the em . Just-

about a year ago the old man ('rrtis died...‘ On
his death-bed he tho ht of his a n and of his
harsh treatment of t at son, and in contriticn
repented of his conduct. There was no absolute

proof that the mother and child were dcadmx r, 
indeed of the death of William. But of first
That the child ,

there was but little doubt.
might be living there were great hopes. So the
old man made a. Will; the sum of ten thousand
dollars he left to Roderick Wright of at. hula,
his confidential man of b with an in-
junction that the ten thousand was. to be ex-
pended in procurin roof of the existence-or

the death of the gir .elia, the (’m'ghter of his -

son William and his wife Dalila-p to thatng

Delia. his granddaughter, be an the with?!" 
era was another '01,“? in, ~ 

his fortune. And J th
thewill, that'if Roderick Wright

1: ;
finding the raising ‘l-eir. Delia Crrtie. some,“ ‘ 

be id the sum of fiftv thousand donors; '
‘ And you are the Roderick Wright menu
I wficftmer " " ' 

“I were one on;

‘kosI.

 

.54.;
_ 4-

I
l.
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m“ . h. _.... . . . 
“ Yes- for it was the White, Wolf’s band that

attack the settlement”. .

“Small chance of flndm' her, I reckon,” said
Jhe tra per. i

“I think not—that is, if the savages hadn’t
discovered us. The first thing I did in St. Louis
was to put an advertisement in the newspapers
for information relating to the massacre at Elk
City. Luckily, the very man who could give
me the information I desired, saw my advertise-
ment and answered it. The man was a neigh<
nor of Mrs. Curtis, and saw the attack on her
house; he also saw the woman and child carried
away by the Indians.”

"This gal, if living, Would be about twenty
years old now,” said the trapper.

“ Yes,” replied Wright. .

“ Wal, bein' so young a val when carried off,
it‘s more than likely that the red heathen have
brought her up as one of themselvos, ’cos the
leetle a1 wouldn’t be apt to remember much
’hout t 0 white settlements.” _

“ That is probable," said Wright.

“Then that’s the- fifty thousand dollars you
are arter in the Injun village?” said the trap-

r.
98“ That is the prize.” . i

“ Mighty small chance of ttin’ it new.”

“ I’m afraid so,” res ud Wright.

“ Bu even if you s ould find the rirl, and be
fully sa isfled yourself that she is t e one you
seek, it seems to me that it would he a diflicult
matterto prove her identity in a court of law
.so that she could inherit the estate'left her by
the will,” said Courtney.

“ What you say is very true; but I have all
the papers relating to her, birth. The mother
had an idea. that the, child might one day in—

herit some of her grandfather’s estate, so she ,

sent the apers to her relatives in kit. Louis.
The on! dithcult point is the question of iden—
tity. would have to prove that the girl
that I rescue from the hands of the Indians is
the same one stolen by them at the massacre of
Elk City fifteen 'cars ago ”_

“ Wal, I shoul' say that air would be a knotty
p’int to git round»” observed the trapper,

tagel .
‘ Isht so didlcult as you would think, hanks

‘ to the forethought of the motlior‘of the girl.

She, the mother, always had a thought that her
daughter Would some day be forgiven her

nts’ fault; but she was alone with the child
i: the wilds of the Far West; should she, the

' mother, die, the identity of the child might be

lost; 30, t.“ guard her from the consequences of

the very event that afterward did happen, the '

. mother caused the name Delia Curtis to he

2"

351‘?

' can not always, succeed.”

'  “115':
"i:  red-nigger!
.. «the.

 
 
   

. marrow night to run off with

flaked lirlndia, ink, sailor fashion, on the
v ' “’5 arm. .
' u hm ‘ had sense,” cried the

‘-“- whifthat woman
“  The man who imprintedtho name on
the arm was the very man who answered my
advertismncnt in St. Louis. so you .sse how
it.would be to rove the identit .of the
"for, of course. ,1 go can swear to is own
” ' V ' i .
William“ lilymligut for‘ this unfortunate dis-
coverv of us by the Indians, on would have
succeeded in your mission an found the lost
heir "said Courtney.
" “‘ 80.1? ' ~.
“2111’ now you’ll be lucky of you git out of
one ’ere valléaglwitn the ha’r on the top of your
,, .

head said . 4
“I’es all inalifetime ” replied Wright. “We

-“‘J‘es’ sol true as preaching; but I say, by

,’ hookav, I’ve got an idea. The leetle Injun gal—-

‘ ' * ' the 'call her—Lia comin’ to-
me What Blrd, as V Mister Courtney.
From diei- you kln‘ find out all ’bout the InJun

an? of any one on ’em has at the‘mark on
arm, the chief’s daughter w known. Then,
“:3 £23?“ lugs?” ii.“ “it” “will?
aunt a we. r an is one, .
make her ongof tbs-hang: of .the red heathen.

‘ i What do you think of the ideal” asked the trap-

his», excellent, indeed. We. should “have
Inweoded this time but that the Indians by

, some means leaned our intentions, and thus de-

ted our plans to surprise them.” said Wright.
that air dad-rotted Mudhole, the cus-
~I wouldn’t have.believed it
dogged imp 0f Satan. I'do think

he’s. B cot. It'snn us, a snake in a snake

l' ’ Injunisanln in. I“er.eadurnedtoo
  butthej‘best c“ us-inake mistakes
/ 1 ” .

.mytruo. Our“ present , lodk-out'u
i'outjof at: W as we! as possible,”

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l “ I kin do it l” said the trapper, emphatically;
f “ of I don’t jos’ you bite my ears off an’ use ’em
T for pin-cus ions.”

So for the present we. will leave our heroes to
meditate in the gloomy chamber of the little
cave, while we return to the White Wolf and
his Blackfoot warriors.

CHAPTER X.
LONGLEUS IN A inrricUL'rY.

SILENTLY through the forest went the Indian
warriors.

The band licadcd by tho “'hito Wolf followed
a course which Would bring them directly to
the spot where the' Indian warrior, ’l‘all liull,
had been stationed to watch the movements of
the whites.

After a march of some two hours, the White
\Voll’, followed by his braves, entered the little
glade where Courtney had been captured.

The \Vliite “hill enjoined caution and-silence
upon his warriors, as he expected each moment,
as he advanced, to come upon the camp of the
whites.

Slowly the braves advanced, and suddenly
the keen eyes of the White Wolf can ht sight of
the body of the Tall Bull, extended on the
mound whither ho had been struck by the keen
' 'fe oi the old trapper.

The White W'olf sprung to the side of the
geasl brave, and noted the gaping wound in his
no i. '

“ Wah !” he cried, in the Indian tongue; “ th
Tall Bull has gone to the happy hunting-
groundsl” '

The Indians crowded around the body. All
examined anxiously the deep thrust that had

let out the life of the warrior.

l “ The beaver-mlchcr has shown his teeth ' the
l fox has become a bear,” said the \Vhito “iolf
I for he doubted not that the Indian warrior ha

i fallen by the hand of the bi}; trapper. “The
I Blackfoot will hunt the bear to his air: he shall
die before another moon shines over the Flat-
head valley.” I

Then two of the braves, raising the body of
the slain warrior, bore it away toward the Iii-
dian village.

Ono of tho warriors, who had been examining
the surroundii. country, returned with the in-
telligence that e had discovered the trail of the
w n cs. '

Eager for vengeance, the red—skins took the
trail. Despite the darknessutho Indians readily
followed the path pursued by the trapper and
his companion. . ‘

Minutes lengthened into hours, and still the
trail continued, until at last it came to a sudden
sto ) on the rocky bank of the Flathead river.

\ hits Wolf and his band halted, discouifited.

“W'ah!” cried the chief, in evident anger;
“the cunning beaver-catcher has covered his
trail; he is a great warrior who is both bear and
fox at once.” Then, turning to his band, he
said: “Let m warriors search the other bank
for the stops 0 the cunning white-skins.”

The Blackfoot warriors eagerly obeyed the
orders of their chief, but the quest was vain;
no trace on either bank of the river was there
of the whites, thanks to the old tra per having
taken the precaution to use the we r ravine in
leaving and a. proachin the river. ed and
discouraged, t is White , 0113 called a halt. The
trail of the whites had disap area as utterly
as thou h they had sunk into he ground.

The c let could but confess that the cunnin
trapper had beaten him; the Indian, train
from the cradle to the forest wilds, was no
match in woodcraft for the long-lo ed beaver-
catcher: but, stubborn to the end, 0 would not
give u hope. The whites were in the valley
somew ere, he felt sure of it. He therefore re-
solved to dispatch some of his warriors to ick-
et the lower end of thew‘alley; sooner or titer
the w bites would attempt to osca and would
mg the higids the Blackfeet?a

e wopar as. e iy the S tted Elk and
Tall Thunder, by this time had «Eiged the White
Wolf. _The party led Ry ‘i‘ 1 Thunder, the
Wolf dispatched to gun the entrance to the
valley; the rest of the braves followed the Wolf
as he returned to the Indian encampment.

All this marching and countermarching had
taken time; the gloom of .the night had long
since gene, and the y tints of the morning
had been succeeded v the burning midday
Vhite Wolf and his warriors en-

sun, when l ,
tererl the Indian Village-

The Wolf went at once tothe lodge where the
prisoner Courtney was confined-and in front
of which sat the young Indian brave, Young

 

 

 

, Bear. . That confidinz youth; had not trou-
tbled himself to look. in “9011- hls prisoner.

   

   

 

3 every now and their ache
at m ‘ mpmen slith intently
:3! were» Quail,“ surgeon a, grad"

cape. The Wolf entered the lodge and found
it enipt . On the floor la the deer-skin thongs
with w rich the prisoner ad been bound, cut
into half a dozen pieces. A large slit through
the skins that formed the back of the lodge,
showed how the prisoner had escaped the vigi-
lance of the Young Bearwho guar ed the lodge.
Courtney had not been searched thoroughly
when made a priSoner, and therefore that he
might have had a knife concealed on his person,
and by its aid that he had affected his escape,
appeared reasonable to the Indians. Not even
the Young Bear suspected that the Indian girl,
White Bird, had any agenc in the. matter.
Again was the chief lull cd although in his
licart he was not sorry for the escape of the
young man; he remembered it’s time in the
white settlement, when Courtney had stcpped
forward in his behalf, and the memory 0 the
Indian for good or evil extends far beyond a

 

a .

’irhe “'ln'te Wolf gave orders that the warriors
should prepare for the war-path for he had re—
solved agam to set forth that ni ht and search
every nook and corner of the lglathead valley
for traces of the whites. '

Leavin the warriors preparing for the com-
inglexpet ition, we will return to the fugitives
hii 'ng in the little cave by the river’s side.

Gloomily the long do. seed to the
whites nestling in the dar corners of the cavern
that had been an ark of safety to them.

Sol, peeping waril forth from tlze cavc’s
mouth, beheli the In inns scouting along on the
other bank of the river. . j

“ The p’ison snrpints are artor us. sure as shoot-
in’,” he olicrveil', with a dry chuckle. “I rcck- '
on,”though, the heathen won’t be like to diskiver
us.

Tranquilly in tho snug retreat the whites rc-
mained, while the rod warriors were searching
up and down the river for their trail. Little
did they suspect that do foe. they sought was
concealed beneath their very feet. for the scout-
ing-partycn that bank of the river whcro the
lit ‘le cave was situated, ‘ over it Lalf a
dozon times in their scare . ‘

Night came at last, descending slowly upon
the surface of the turbid and swim-flowing war
ters. One by one, to tho cycs ol’ the watching
whites, the trees on the opposite hunk faded into
the dense gloom, and where om 6 their eyes rest-
ed upon the green forest, up ared now but an
indistinct black wall. The night, too, promfied.

_ in contradiction to the prmedingc nc, to“l.o dark

and cloudy; the moon was bid by the clouds that
covered tilt) sky. As the scout observed, in his
quaint way: ‘ _ , z 

“ It‘s an allflred good night for scouting.”

“You Will set out soon,_will you act? asked
lCourtney, filled With the anxiety so natural too.
over. . ‘

“Wal, I reckon it won‘t belong now store I
make a start of it. I s’posc you wantvto see the
little a1, don’t ye?" he asked, with a chuckle. ‘
The 0 d trapper could read human nature as,
well as he could decipher the signs of the for-
est. " . -
“ Yes,” replied Courtney, honestly. “I own
I am anxious.” '

“ Sartin; it’s human natur’; but, don't hu '; _ v
I want to see jist bow (lurk it’s goin’ to git More ‘ ‘
I start. I reckon thar’ll be some dan r in

in’ inter the lnjun village to-night. e vil-
fiaoge gust now must be like a good-sized hornth

' t me go with you if there is danger to 
be metl” impulsively exclaimed the ,young

man.

“What in thunder would he the_use of that?“
cried the trapper. “ It isn’t flglitiu’ that’s 
to . be did; it s sneakin’, an’ one s a sight bet ,
nor twd.” ‘

An hour or so more the old trapper waited,
and then, after a careful scoutin around the
mouth of the. cave, he essade \lus to an:

d 'tnkin . . ,1
‘0!   _,

past

0‘

g . .
“Be careful!” cried Wright as the
quitted the cave and stood within the
water of the stream

“You bet!" was'old Sal‘s rejoinder, ,as'lie I ‘ ,

started on his perilous journey“. “E! I git the _»
leetle out of the In an camp, an’ than sneak. ‘
the hu lparty out of t lnjun country it’ll  I ‘
something toth of in my old  ' t will he --
work, though,” and the man shut. is teeth firm- ~ -_
1y together as he walked on up the stream. Arr 9»
riving at the rocky ravin the trapperileft  . A
river Smut. d the ittle  space  l 5;

. e 2 r . ~ . , x .
meantimst and slowly he pmededdro‘uvward,

 
 
 
   
 
  
    

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" i.  to,  a

'14

'44 H

was there of human life. Onward still went

the brave heart, till at last he reached the ed

of the thicket and looked fm’m the cover of t e

trees upon the Indian village. There, in con-
trast to the silence of the forest, all was life and
activity. The Blackfeet were all astir. In the
center of the village before the door of the
council-1 , a huge fire was burnin , and
around it he Blackfoot braves were
the war-dance.

The trap r understood well the meaning of
the scene. e saw plainly that all the available
force in the villa 0 were about to take the war-
trail. The thoug it that the savages set such a
high value upon his capture rather pleased the
darin old forester.

“ I’ keejism top—knot out of the bloody hea-
thens’ han , e I kin,” he said to himself, as his
eyes meted upon the dancing, howling Black-
feet. “ I wonder whar the leetle gel is? Pooty
near time she were a-lookin’ fur me;” but no
sign of the Indian girl could he see. As he

I looked from Wigwam to Wigwam, vainly striv-
ing to discover her, an Indian gong, that had
evidently broken loose, followed y alf a dozen
gellin ours, and as many warriors in ursuit,

881184. throu h the village and made ' ectly
for the spot w are old So stood. The rush of
the horse was so sudden that the animal and his
howling followers were upon him before he
could retreat. To attempt to do so, with the
do and Indians so near him, would have been
to i, so he sunk quietly to the ground trusting
to t e tall grassvtorconceal him. In is heart
the old trafiper cursed the horse, the dogs, the
men and t e unlucky star that had brought
them so near his hiding-place. "

The horse was surrounded and caught within
ten feet of the spot where the trapper lay
and 301 had just begun to hope 0 won d
esca , whe one of the little Indian dogs
sme t’ him ut and plunged at him open-
mouthed, barkiu fiercely. The rest of the
dogs followed, an the Indians advanCed to dis-
cover the cause of the dogs’ alarm. The trap-
per felt asif his time had come. Already one
of the braves was within six feet of him; flight
was his only hope. His resolve was in-
stantly taken. In a second the old trapper was
on his feet and bounded oil! through the woods.
A yell from the startled Indians greeted the sud-
denappearance. They knew the ii re of the
long-legged beaver-catcher ri ht we , 'but that
their foe should be lurking a most Within the
shadow of their wigwams struck them With as-

tonlsbment.

On through the led underbrush rushed
Sol, leaving here and ere in the thorny bushes
strips of his hunting shirt and leggin .

“By hookeyi” cried he to himsel , as a bush
tore off a large strip from his sleeve. “ I shall
be naked as a new-born baby, of these cussed
thorn-bushes air so durn’ lovin’. I guess I kin
outrun thesa heathen or I’m a sucker,” and he
threw a rapid glance over his shoulder to note
thenearness of the foe. Fatal movement, for,
at the same moment his foot caught, and head-
long on the earth went the tall trapper. It was
a moment or two before he could regain his feet,
tangled up as they were in a net ork of briers.
The Indians had closed in aroun him; no ave-
nue of escape was 0 n to him' the cold perspira-
tion stood upon - forehea . One bold dash
he made for, his, Useless attempt! Fortune
was a the white-skin. for again his foot

ancing

on b in avlne and n he fell rostrate u
' mi he ‘3'“ P "it;

he earth. fore he could rise, the
warriors threw themselves upon him. Vigor-
oust old 801 struggled. Once with almost
superhuman strength, he threw his assailants of!
and gained his knee. The advantage, however,
was t momentary, for again t e red-slime
threw themselves upon and bore him to the earth.
The warriorshadnot tried to use their weapons,
their object being to capture him alive. is
:he trapper well understood; they designed him
or the torture-stake.

‘ Overpowered by weight of numbers, old 801,
efteravifirous and determined strug le, was
bound ti tly,hand and foot, with t e deer-
Ikin of the warriors. Then, utterly help.-
less in the hands of the savages, theyraised him
upon their shoulders and bore him in triumph
toward the village—one of ‘the swiftest runners
having bean dispatched in advance toap rise
the Blackfeet that their great enemy, thew te-

gs,~the beaver-catcher,

" ,skinnedtra r,Lo
'thezwhltetggfthat, dsolongdefiedtheir

giver, was new a prisoner helpless in their
A: a. prisoner-were
h- wb‘m damn

 
  

 
  
 

   
 

Beadle‘s ' Half-Dime Library. .

bitterness of spirifi, “to be captivated by these
hyer dog—rotted enthan It makes my blood
bile. I s’pose they’ll roast or fry'me at the tor-
ture-stake jist to see whether I am tough or ten-
der—the eternal heathen!”

And so, on the shoulders of the braves who
had by accident captured him, the beaver~
catcher was carried into the village of his mor-
tal enemies.

 

, CHAPTER XI.
MUDHOLE’S FAITH. .

ALARMED by the I ndiun runner, the whole of
the inhabitants of the Blackfoot village assem-
bled to witness the arrival of the daring white-
skin who had so long defied the efforts of the best
warriors of the Blackfoot tribe to kill or capture
him. At last he was in their hands, a he pless
prisoner.

‘ Loud were the ells, wild was the delight,
with which the ln inns welcomed the successful
warriors.

The prisoner was deposited in front of the
council-lodge. in close proximity to the blazing
fire; a fact which did not tend to make him feel
easier in his m'ind.

The women and children crowded around
him, with many a taunt and threat, till the
White Wolf placed a cordon of warriors around
him, and kept back the crowd. Then the hi h
chiefs, headed by the White Wolf, sought t e
council-lodge, to decide as to the fate of the
ca tive.

‘ho women and children, kept back from the
prisoner by the line of warriors, cursed him at
a distance, but as they spoke in the Indian
tongue, of whic the trapper understood not a
word, their taunts and curses fell upon unheed-
mg ears. .

‘I s’posc they’ll burn me, durn ’em!” mut-
tered the trapper, as he looked around 11 ion the
long line of hostile faces by which 9 was
surrounded. “ Ef they’d only give me a single
chance at ’em I’d clean out a few afore I go
under. But, ain’t dead it; I guess I’m as
good as a dozen dead men. ’ve been as ni h as
this to death afore, an’ pulled through. uck
may turn an’ give me a show; then let the red
heathen look out.”

From the crowd of women and children the
goung Indian girl, White Bird, soon appeared.

he said a few Words to one of the warriors
who guarded. the prisoner, when he readily let
her pass, for few braves of the Blackfoot tribe
cared to thwart the will of the daughter of
their great chief.

The girl came straight to the side of the help-
less man. - I
“_ e beaver-catcher is in den er,” she said,
inalow sweet tone speaking the glish tongue

With only a slight I’n ian accent.

“ Wal, beauty,” answered the old trapper, in
his honest way, “ I wouldn’t mind givin’ all
I’m worth—it ain’t much, though—to git out of
this ’tarnal scrape." ,. .

“ Do not fear to speak freely,” said the girl.
“None of the warriors that guard you under-
stand a word of our tongue.

“ I Wish they id, the durned heathen cusses,”
said the trapper, with rage in his tone. “They
couldn’t have captivated me ef they hadn’t ’a’
been twenty a ’m' one.” »

“You have est your life for me,” said White
Bird, mournfully, while tears gathered in her
dark eyes.

“ on’t speak of it, beau . We’ve all got to
die some time. They’ll pro ably gin me a taste
of that air fire afore I’m an hour older.”

The girl shuddered at the thought.

“Don't you mind ’bout e,” said the tra per.
,“ I’m old an’ tough, m’ I on’t think they’l tor-
ment me much; so don’t you worry ’bout me.
Jist, listen now, an’ I’ll tell '02: how you kin find
the young feller. ‘: He an’ is friend-Will need
your help to git out of this spesky scrape fur

hey’ll never git out of it themselves. on
know where the high gray rock overhangs the
river, ’bout four miles from hyer down the
stream?” ,

“yes, Lover’s Leap it is called. A young
Indian girl whose father would not let her
ma t e brave ‘sbe loved jumped from the
rock ate the river, and perished in the dark wa-
ters,” said the girl.

. “ J es’ 80,” said the trapper; “ thar is consider-
able of a pool inthe river ist thar. Wal, jist
at» the foot of that air rock _ a leetle cave, the
mouth of it all kiVered up with bushes. In that
air cave is the young teller an’ his friend.” _

“.1 will remember your. directions. . I Will
save our friends from the Blackfeet, and con-
duct them

settlements

  

 

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v

   
 
 
 

safe-throth the forest to the »

 

i=3
“ No, not at present, beauty,” replied Old

01.

“The chiefs are coming from the lodfi” said
the girl, suddenly, as she glided from t trap-

r

pe .

As she had said, the chiefs, headed by the
White Wolf, were coming from the camel]-
lodge. Soon the;' gathered around the prisoner.
At a motion 0 the White Wolf, the trapper
was raised to a sitting position. ' -

“Beaver-catcher,” began the White Wolf.
“the braves of the Blackfeet have sat in the
council-lodge; they have talked of the fate of
the long—legged trapper. The white-skin has
caught the beaver and the muskrat in the wa-
ters of the Flathead; he has hunted in the valley
of the Blackfeet and on the war-path he has
slain the Tall Bul , a great Blackfoot chief; his
spirit looks down from the hapgy hunting-
grounds and calls for vengeance on is pale-face
murderer. The chiefs of the Blackfeet have
decided that the beaver-catcher shall die at the
torture-stake. Let the whitevskin prepare, for
death is near. ”

The chief had addressed the prisoner in the
English tongue, which he spoke fluently.

The traéifier moved not a single muscle when
he learne is doom. . '

“Look hyer, chief,” hevcried, “I want a
chance to re ly to your talk, but our people
don’t unders nd my 1 e. ill one of
your braves translate for me?’

“I will i” responded a dee% fiuttui‘al voice in
English, and the Spotted I stepped forth
from behind the “warriors. The astonishment
of Old Sol was visible on his features—on the
hard muscles of ,his face that had not Chan ed
a_whit when his fearful doom was rev ed

1m.
“ Mudholo, by thunderl” was the trapper’s
exclamation, as he looked upon the features of
the Indian. ' ’
"Ugh! Mudhole once, now Spotted Elk, a.
chief of the Blackfeet,” replied the savage.
“ You’ll do fur what I want. Will an tell
these Injuns jist what I say i” asked t e trap-
e .

v

r.
“Yes ” was the laconic response.
“ Wa , then, jist open your ears,” and then in
a calm, quiet tone the old trapper commenced to
abuse the whole Blackfoot nation. He told
them that they were do 8 who ran before the
white man’s tread; that t ey were cowards who
feared to attack a fee unless ten to one; that he
Single-handed, could defeat an ten warriors o
the Blackfoot nation, and dc ed them to the
test. All these bitter words the S tted Elli re—
peated to his brethren, exactl as e had spoken
hem. A bowl of anger rem the en
braves greeted the close of the trapper’s re-
marks and but for the personal interference ‘of
the - bite Wolf and other leading chiefs, the
multitude would then and there have satisfied
their rage and have saved the fearless man from
the torture-stake. 7
The angry braves at last driven back and
quieted, t e trapper was carried to a stout oak
tree, at the foot of which dried wood, had been
laced and all pre arations made for the fire
at was to be his oath. w . ,
Held firm by a dozen or so‘of stout warriors,
the trapper’s arms were unbound; then he was
laced with his back to the tree, and his wrists
rought to, ther behind it and lashed tightly
with deer-s in thongs; then the thongs were re-
moved from his feet, and his ankles lashed firm-
ly to the tree, the then s passing around, it. The
prisoner being firmly. ound. the chiefs retired
rom him, seemingl for a brief deliher be-
fore the a plied t e fire.

chief was the Spotted Elk. .

“ Longle is in dan er,” said the chief, uiet-
ly, in Eng ish while e was apparently
examining if the lashmgs were secure. - .

“ Death is looking me in the. face, Mndhole,”
returned the tra per. “I guess the Blackfeet
have got me this me.” . ' _ -

“ Does Lorglfgs remember when he took tho,
wounded In ' n to his .lod e and cured hi'
wounds?” asked the Spotted . . 

“Yes,” replied the trapper; “does the skid
remember it?” . . , . .. .

“If the beaver-catcher waits he will see. The
Mudhole is now a rest chief! of the B
nation. When the 1 ,
(1121]: will be the chief of the tribe,” Hid

  
 

One chief alone n- -‘
mained y he side of the doomed trapper; tint

teWolfdiathe'S, _
In-

n. » . a. .. _. .
~“And youare the  Elk?”- ' ' the
re ' I I I. I ‘1-

I': ,Q..‘..:: . ..

 

 

 

     

    

fl‘;  -

"‘ "l

-Sol_fl(;}inger. 15

 

 

i...

 

    

   
  
      
 

he loses it, he loses all,” sententiously replied
the Indian, stalking awa from the trapper.

Sol looked after the ndian, with a uzzled
expression u e He co d not
understand t e nature of the savage. His
words seemed to promise hope, but the time for
help must come soon or not at all; hours were
minutes now.

The oak to which the trapper was bound stood
at tho upper end of the village. Between it and
tho forest, in one direction, lay nothing but the
In: line corral or horse-pound, which was as the
trapper could see by the light of the hre that
blazed infront of the council-lodge, filled with
horses. Ten paces from the prisoner stood the
circle of chiefs; be 'ond them were congregated
the rest of the village—the common warriors
the women and children—all anxious to behol
the death of the famous beavercatcher.

“ Hy’or they come!” cried the trap r, be-
then his clenched teeth, as a brave a vanced
with a torch of blazing Wood to fire the mass
beneath the trapper’s feet. 9‘ I’m in for it now!
N 0 hope, no chance for a ueeze fur life. My
time has come an’ I’ll face t 8 music like a man!
The ’tarnal red skunks shan’t say that the Giant
Trapper squealed even when the. fire were
a-burnin’ his innards out.”

The warrior ap lied the blazing torch to the
dry wood bcneat the trapper’s feet, then re-
tired to the crowd to enjoy the agony of the
dying white-skin. ' _

The trapper could hear the crackhng of the
flame“. as the dry wood caught the fire; the
smoke began to ascend and lind the eyes of
‘thc helplms prisoner.

Sol could alroad feel the heat of the burning
weed. and 'in that}: a parently the last hour 0
his life, the rough old) trapper, the man of the
“roads. and prairie, commended himself to his
Ma er.

Then, in his deadly ,eril, with the pale king
of terrors staring him ull in the face, he sudden-
ly became conscious that the thongs that had
bound his feet to the tree and his wrists together
were loosened sudden] , and the handle of a
knife was thrust into is hand. The trapper
then understood the situation in a moment.

A hoarse veice whispered in his ear: .

6‘ Make for the corral—nthe gate is unfastened
...mm the horses loose—you know the rest!”

The trapper knew the voice instantly; it was
the voice 0 Mudhole, once the outcast warrior,
now one of the great chiefs of the Blackfeet.

The trapper with a single lance took in the
scene before him; then W1 h a terrific yell
which r like a , of thunder on the ears of
the astonis ed Indians, he lea from the tor-
ture-stake, dashed through flames. before
him, ma,.knfle in hand, ran swiftly toward .the
corral. 'Ii‘oramoment the Indians were para-
lyzed by the sudden movement of the prisoner;
a moment they gazed upon the strange scene,
uni then, \lVitE cries of rage sprung forward to

' terco tt 16 rappel‘ . .

‘ m1: evé} Lon rlegs ran SWlf'tly, he did so now,
for he was we aware that life was the prize at
stake. On he went, exertui every muscle

heading for the corral._ Thong he had gain

a few yards by the qmckncss of his start, and
the surprise of the Indians, yet, as they were
nearer inn. direct line, to the corral the obJect-
ive ' at in this d to race for life, the trap-
.per ml need of. all his splendid (powers.

7‘As-he ran be calculated the 0 ds against him.
On his left a single warrior was running, knife
in hand on a course that, gradually approach-
 'nc on which the trapper was running,
must before he reached the corral bring them
together. That warrior was the White. Wolf.
. his ' ht another Indian was close on his
truck, but to him the trapper did not expect

tgs’thechief was no at er than the Spotted

. l.

    
 
 
  
   
  
 
  
   
  
   
  
 

e rest of the Indians were fast falhng be-

the terrific pace at which the flying man

being too much for them.

y ingre and heandWhiteWolf must

com together.

‘ ins,” hissed~ strapper, through

: - y the long

the 
upon

and the

WW

 

_ 2 their chief

to moraine the tra '
A mm The 'Indian‘made

White Wolf  . v
- - e at the bite as he
asweep with, his Vi Mt 

. . 1 ed the blow with
 through stou deeMkin into

  
   
   
     
  

  

 
  
   

  

- f not. at-

  

     
  
  

. their

 

encouraged b the example of the chief, wired
the trapper y the leg. With a terrific kick,
Sol sent the cur yelpling into the dust but, b
the motion he lost eadway, stumbled and lo
u n his knee. The White Wolf, who was
0 ose upon his heels, raised his scalping-knit’e
and aimed a death-blow at the fallen trapper.
A moment the knife littered in the air, then
it descended with tcrri no force, driven With all
the strength of the savage‘s arm into the bod

forward to receive the blow intended for the

tra per. .

181115 the Indian kept his faith, and Mudhole
paid the debt he owed to Old Sol.

The trapper regained his feet, and, with a
motion as quick as a cat, drove his long knife to
the heart of the White Wolf, who in vain at-
tempted to parry the terrific stroke of the trap-
per’s arm. With a hollow groan, the great
chief of the Blackfeet, the famed warrior
White Wolf, sunk upon the earth the blood
streaming free from his womid. By his side
lay the Spotted Elk—dead! ’ ,

On again went the now hopeful man. The
Indians in his rear had gained a little upon him,
but they paused for a moment by the side
of their dying chief, and then again. with cries
of vengeance, pursued. Gaining the corral,
Old 801 burst in upon the horses, yelling
like a demon. The frightened steeds burst
through the open gates upon the crcvd of
advancing Indians like a whirlwind, and the
savages for a moment, were obliged to aban-
dc‘m the ursuit to save themselves from being
traniplei to death by the horses. The trapper
profited by the confusion to swing himself u )0)!

be back of a roan-colored pony, and, gun ing
the animal by the (leer-skin halter, plunged
through an opening in the thicket, and rode fu-
riousl along the little path beyond.

\Vit cries of rage the savages mounted in hot
haste, and set ofl.’ in chase of the flying Iceman,
who had not only escaped the torture-stake but
had slain their great chicfi

0n through the wood went the chase—tho
trapper riding for dear life and the savages fol-
lowin hard upon his truck, guided by the noise
of his’horse‘s hoofs. .

Five of the Indians, who were better mounted
than the others, kept togetlier'in the advance.
On they went, listening ca ‘rly to the sound 01’
the horse’s hoofs before t cm. By that sound
they could tell whether they were aining upon
the fugitivo or losing ground. At rst the trap-
per seemed to gain upon them: the sound of the

oofs grew fainter and fainter .to their ears,
then. to the joy of the Indians, the pace of the
fugitive seemed to slacken, for the noise of the
horse’s gallop grew louder and louder; they
were gaining upon the trapper fast. They ur ‘ed
ponies to increased it —now 1. ey
cau ht sight of the steed, flying through the
thic et 0 nings; they were ,aining rapidly
upon the orseman. On they ow, riding like
mad. At last they dashed alongside of the fly-
ing horse, to find that it was—riderless.- The
cunning trapper had slipped oil! the horse during
the chase, concealed himself in the underbrush,
and probably chuckled as the Indians rode mad-
ly by him, in [inth of the afl'ri hted horse.

The Indians old a council. V hen and where
the trap or had left the horse and taken to the
thicket e could not guess, and in the dense
darkness 0 the night, scouting after the trail of
such a cunning woodman was folly.

With heav hearts they returned to the vil-
ltage, and to] of the escape of the long-legged

ra per. . ‘ . l

e Blackfoot nation that iii ht mourned

over two at calamities; the oath of their
great chie and the escape of the beaver-
catcher.

 

.1

CHAPTER XII.
‘ LINKS IN A Cam.

THE White Bird, after the conversation with
the old trapper took advantage of the confusion
attending e bearing of the white to the ter-
ture-stake, to leave the villa e. When she heard
{Loam the lips of the White I OH the doom of the

var-catcher, she knew she had no power to
save him; her weak aid would avail him no-
wfully. she resolved not to be-

thin :so sorro
hold death but to flee from the village, .join

conduct him at once from the

her lover and ,
fier 'keen womanly cease told her that

valley.

‘the savages, busy with the torture of the hel
‘ I e rest of ta

I, would not seek for th

 

' the wonderful escape of ile-  I

' forever,” cried Courtn

 

one of the chiefs as to the whereabouts of tie
missin warriors. That fact troubled her but
little, or she knew of a r063 58 by the “ Bit-
ter Stream,” as it was on y the Blackfeet
through which she might conduct the whites, and .
thus evade the red pickets at the lower end of
the valley.
The Indian

'rl ined the wood and follow-
ing a little pafii ga ’

, came to the rivor. Down the

_ . river’s bank she went with hasty steps, for time
of thew—Epottcd Elk, who had thrown hmise f ‘

indeed was precious.

An hour later found her at the entrance of the
little cave. .

“Harry!” she called, softly, “’tis I, White-
Bird 1” '
Courtney, watching within the cave know
well the voice, and, in an instant more, 8 e was

folded to her lover’s heart.

Briefly she to] l of the surprise and capture of
the trapper. Bitter was the sorrow of the two
men, for they had lea mod to love the brave old
man. Their sorrow could not save him, for, as;
the White Bird told them, by that time the
guide was doubtless a corpse. . ‘ ._ _

The White Bird proposed her plan of flight,
to which both the whiies agreed. * ‘

“When shall we attempt it?” asked Court .
no '. z

‘ In an hour," replied the girl; “The night
is growing clearer; the moon should rise soon
and give us light.” ‘

‘ oor Sol!’ cried Courtney; “ I shall never
forget him.” »

“Nor I either,” replied Wri ht, “I shall
always blninc myself as being , "c cause of his
death, for, but for me, he won not have ven-
tured into this wilderness.” ' 

And where was he whose untimely death they
were at that moment deploring? Why, mak-
ing his way through the icicst toward the cave
as fast as his long legs would carry him. ‘

His idea in taking the horse from the Indian

village had been to deceive the red-skins. lie
know well how easy it would he to sli from the
back of the animal, conceal himso f in the
huslies,-aml let the rod warriors follow- on the
trail of the i'unawa. boast. The cunning tritk
had lzccn successfu ; the savages had been
thrown off the trail, which they could not in-
gain until} the morning, and then not without
(liiIiculty. .
. “Now, then,” cried the old tra per, commun-
ing with himself in his usual ashion, as he-
strode through the forest, with his long, tirelcw
stride, “ of t ie leetle gal has found the cave all
right, an’ is thar, We’ll put for the settlements.
to onc’t. It won’t do to tell her, though, that
I settled the hash of the big chief; he may be “a
relation of horn.” . .

Old 801 reached at last the little cave, and
entered it much to the sur rise of the inmates.
His cheery voice had told t em who it was.

“Sol!” cried Courtney. “Is it possible you
are alive?” -

“ You hat!” was the hearty rejoinder.

“Wh I saw you at the torturostake,”said
the Ind n girl. ~ -

“Sartin,’ re" lied the trapper, f‘hut Ididn’t
stay thar, than to Mudhole. He cut‘the thongs
that bound me to the stake. put a knife into my
hand, an’ then I my a muck through the Injun
village. it were a lively time for a few
lites, you bet! I reckon the Blackfeet won’t
forgitnthe doin’s of this night fur some years to
come. . v

And the old trapper was ri ht: for can
after the events we ave relate by the ack-
foot camp-fires. on the trail and rn'iLe Inuit.
'1I‘.’ikl]'!l’lv'll."'.'
vcr-catcher, who Lore advent.)  and tin
death of their great chicfat his I'uvdn r w” 'g‘w'
by the old warriors to the row}: 'I' c 
was the strange death of thy f‘wiw r ’l' t 1":

tten in the annals of his m -  «so I u

lieved him tohe possessed with an evil spirit;' ‘ 1; y: 

who causedhhim to give his own life to save the
{weaver-cute er. . ‘~ .
Courtne detailed the plan of White Bird-to
esca. frgm tgf valley: Old 801 nodded his
h ' v v a 
f3 11.1%? Pwrgrk, I wfikon,",§ilfibfieflg:i ‘ft’he moon .
wii hou,an enwe n. -- l g.
1m" in bid farewell to this fatalyalley

vtfl‘Yes, we '1 e
the fifty-thousand-dollsr
treasure that you were goin’- to

git upin the In- I'

'jun vill i" questioned i.  ,
, t‘I 1min}: I shall leavedthat in t{for ha: y
Y 31 orma an learn truth. 7 j v .
(3395' so!” criedghmpper. “ That will suit
in?2 ist like shogtin’ l” = . ~ 

“ But, how about

knewthat  luteBird,»asked- . "use
the" gag,” r

. _ at“ r‘

».,‘.

 

 

 

16

Beadle’s Ham-Dime Library.

 

 

E ._,.
“ NO,” simply answered the girl. . defile in the rocks conducted b the White 284 T“ S“ MUD!“ By Prentiss In - am" so .
" Will you not regret the step?” asked the l Bird—or, as we sho’uld call her, elia. Curtis— fl §:;Y’&§%L§Y“TE§§§EOO¥Y  Egmhfifi'fi‘  -

lover, softly; his tone could only reach the girl’s
car.

“ No; I love you better than I do any thin in
all the world. I have lOVed you from the rst
moment that I saw you in the settlement at
Fort Benton. Do you not remember that I
chewed you my face there?”

" Yes,” replied Courtney, “I do; the most
beautilul face that I ever saw.”

“ A111 you think so now; but, will you always

hink so!’

“ Yes, while I livo I shall love you. Have you
not left home, friends and all for me?” cried
Courtney. “Have you not saved my life?
But for on I should he even now a prisoner in
the ham 3 of the Blackfeet.”

“ I do not think on would deceive mo, and if
you do, the oor V bite Bird can but uie,” re-
plied the gir sadly.

“While I ive In life is lodged to you!"
cried Courtney. “' on have efthomo,fr1ends,
countrv, all for me, but you shall not re ret
them, for my love shall make amends for al .”

And owr the soul of the lovers crept the holy
calm that pure love alone can bring. Young
hearts were they that lived truly for each
other.

“ Then you will undertake the expedition that
I spoke of!” Wrir'ht asked of the big trapper.

‘ You jist bet fwill!” emphatically returned
old 801. “I calculate I kin wallop the hull
Blackfoot nation either with list, legs or head.
I ain’t much of a ilghtin’ man; but, when vou
pen me into a corner, and say, ‘ilght or ( ie,’
ygu kin, pretty gincrally reckon that it’ll be

ght.

“You shall lead the expedition to find the
heir and if you are successful you shall haw,
one- all.’ of the fifty thousand dollars,” said
\Vright.

“What on airth Could I do with so much
money? Iain’t.got any use fur it,”returncd
the tra per.

“We I, you shall fix your own terms,” said
W'ri' ht.

“ os’ 90; couldn’t be anything more squar’,” .

replied the trapper; “ but, s’pose I just ask the
leetle gal over thar ’bout the critter we’re
arter.”

! “ Do,” said W'right; “we may learn some-
t Ill) .

“ ay, White Bird, I don’t know as you know
it, but we’re arter somebody in your village.”

" Yes,” returned the Indian irl; “ you seek a
treasure in the village of the B ackfeet.”

“True as preachin’ 1” said the trapper, “ but
as the Injuns somehow know of our plan, we’ve
kinder made a failure.”

“ No,” returned the girl, quietly, “ you have
succeeded.”

The trap r stared at her with astonishment.
Wri ht an Courtney also were puzzled at her
war 5.

" I reckon you don’t exactly understand me,
lecth gal,” said Sol. “ You see, the fact is,
beauty, we seek a treasure, as Misther Wright
calls it, worth fifty thousand dollar i.”

“ Yes, I know you seek what on calla treas-

ure, but, how it can be worth t Iat sum, I can’t -
But, I again say, you will succeed.” ‘

imagine.
The 'r1 3 he with calm assurance.

“ k yer,” said the 01:1 guide, not able to
make head or tail of her words; “ we’re arter a
leetle gal—”

“ Yes.- I am the girl .V” said the White Bird.

“ Thunder!" cried the trapper.

Wright and Courtney started in astonish-
ment.

“ Yes: I heard the White Wolf say in the
which settlement that on sought mo. You see
I save you the trouh e by coming,” said the

“ But the girl we seek is white,” said Wright.

“ So am I. Taken from my parents by the
.Indians when a child; on my arm, in little blue
characters, is my name.”

“ And that name is?” questioned Wright, ea.-

rlv.
n“ Delia Curtis,” re lied the girl.
“ Hooray 1” cried t e trapper, gleefully.

And then the story of her rents was told? to
the White Bird, and her 19 history was
‘hearl by the three men who risked their

lives to rescue her from the savages.

The White Bird had not, until her return
from Fort Benton, known that she was not of
the blood of the Indians Then one of the old
«gums had revealed to her her history.

can hear from the time that the trapper
hid entered the cave, the moon came slowly
over the true-hips.

The time had come for flight; to, through the

went the little party.

At the little glade, on the Bitter Stream,
where they had camped, they found—as the
trapper had predicted—their horses, for the
horses Of \Vright and Courtney had followed
the example of the clay-colored animal of the
big trapper in remaining close to the spot
\\ here they had been left by their masteis.

With the aid of the horses, the little party
reached Fort Benton in safety and without see~
ing a single hostile savage.

At Fort Benton, VVI-ight, Courtney and Delia
parted with their Old guide and faithful friend,
and took passage to St. Louis. In St. Louis
Delia easily proved her identity, took poses-
sion of her property, and then became the wife
of Harry Courtney.

Wright received his fifty thousand dollars
and settled down contentedly.

As for our long-legged friend, the shrewd
beaver-catcher, he still traps in the North-west.
and no man brings a larger or finer pack of

ltries into Fort Benton than Ginger, familiar-
y called SOL, THE GIANT TRAPPER.

THE END.

BEADLE'S HALF-DIME tIBHABY.

 

 

 

l 213 FRITZ To THE FRONT. By E. L. \theler..... 5c
‘ 21-1 WOLFGANG. By Unfit. Frederick Whittaker.. 5c
, 215 CANAIN'BULLsT. y T. C. Harhaugh 5c
1 216 BIsoN BILL. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham . . . . .. 50
217 CAPTAIN CRACK‘SMOT. By E. L. Wheeler.. . 5c
l 21% TIGER. TOM. B OllCoomcs  50
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1 2‘30 Ton TANNnR. By Charles Morris . . . . . . .. ‘ hc
221 SUGAR-COATED SAM. By Edward L. Wheeler. r
222 GRIT, TIIE BRAVO SPORT. By Col. Ingraham. 5c
223 OZARK Air. By Edward Willeit . . . . . . .. . 50
2'31 I)AsIIINo DICK. By Oll Coomes . . . . .. . he
2.5 SAM CHARCOAL, Tun PREMIUM DAnKY. By
Charles Morris . . . . ..  . . . . . .. be
I 226 SNoozsn, THE BOY SHARP. By E. L. Wheeler. 5c
1 2:27 DUSKY I).\nR"L, TRAPPER. By E. Emerson... So
228 LlT’I‘LE WILnrmn. By 011 Coomes.  50
; 229 Cum mN KATA. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham . 50
1 2:0 Tm: YANKEE RAJAH. B C. D. Clark . . . . . . . .. he
2'11 PLueKY PIIIL. . By T. C. arbaugh   5c
are (IJLD-DUST DICK. By E. L. Wheeler.. ..  be
233 Jon BUCK or ANGELS. By Albert W. Aiken. 5c
5334 BrNI-ro, THE YOUNG IIoasE-Bnuxsn. By
Buckskin Sum. .. . 50

2'35 Smnow SAM, TEE Mnsanosa BOY. By

Charles Morris. .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
2‘36 APOLLO BILL. By Edward L. Wheeler .. .. .
2.37 LONE STAR, THE COWBOY CAPTAIN. By Col.

Prentiss Ingraham. . ..  . . . . . . . . . ..
239 Tm: l‘Aasox DETECTIVE. By 011 Coomes ..
239 Tm: GOLD-sansnn GUIDE. By Mayne Reid...
211') CYCLONE KIT.- Bv Edward L. Wheeler.. ..
241 BILL BIIAvo AND HIS Bum PAIms. By '1‘. C.

Harbaugh .. .. . . ..  . . . . . . ..
912 THE Two ‘Bwons.’ By t‘liarles Morris.’ 
243 THE DIsOUIsan Gums. By 011 Coomes .
244 811mm SAM. THE FRONTIER FERRET. By Ed-

wardL.Wheeler .. . .. .. ..
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9-111 GIANT Gnoma. By Buckskin Sam . . . . . . ..
217 OLD GaxzzLY AND HIs Pars. By Captain

“Bruin"A'lams   .. . . . . . . ..lSc
‘218 SInanA SAM‘s Samar. By E. L. Wheeler be
219 MILO Roman. By Captain Fred. Whittaker... 50
250 MIDSHIE’MAN Murmurs. By Col. P.1ngraham. be
251 LIGHT-HOUSE LIGE. Bv J. F. C. Adams ..... .. 50

252 DICK DAsuAva. By Charles Morris .  be
253 SIERRA Sm‘s PAIIn. Bv E. L. Wheeler . . . . .. he
25! T'II: HALF BLOOD. By Edward S. Ellis. . 50
2'55 Cu’PAIN APOLLO. By T. O. Harliaugh . . 50
258 YOUNG KENTI'CK. By Captain Mark Wilton. 5c
25? Tm: Los'r Humans. BY J. F. C. Adams. 5c
2'39 Sraruu SAM'S SEVEN. By E. L. Wheeler. hc
259 Tum GOLDEN HARPOON. Bv Roger Starbuck. 5c
1 260 DARE-DEVIL DAN. By 011 Coomct...  .. 5c
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fill-‘1 DnAnwoon DICK’ i DIvmn. By E. L. Wheeler.
294 Tna FLOATING FnA'rnsn. By Col. Inmham.
2?).5 Tm: TIGER TAIIIm. By Capt. F’. Whittaker..
266 KILLII‘AII, THE GUIDE. By Ensign (‘harles
‘ Dudley Warren. (of the Engineer Corps)... ..
267 Tm: Bncxser DETECTIVE. By Harbaugh 
268 DEADWOOD DICK’S DEATII TRAIL. By Ed-
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269 Tar. GOLD SKIP. Bv Col. Prentiss lnmham.
2'70 BLIzmnD BFN. By Captain Mark Wllmn....
271 Tim Hues HI'NTEII. Bv Edward 8. Ellis 
272 MINxstN MIKE. By 011 Coomes .  
273 JUMBO Jon. By Edward L. Wheeler . . . . . . ..
274 JOLLY JIM. By Churlcs Morris . . . . . . . ..
275 ARIZONA JACK. Bv Buckskin Sam . . . . . . . ..
276 Mm MoNTIn’s CRUISE. By Col. Prentiss
lngraham . . . . ..  .. . . . . . . . . . 
277 Danrm DOLL. By Edward L. Wheeler ..
278 Tun Tum: TaAmas. Bv Maj. L. W. Carson.
. 279 3:0 I‘YINCH, Tim RIFLE KING. By T. C. Har-
so Manta Mann's Firs. By Prentiss Inmham
291 DENVER Dow’s VIC'I‘JRV. Bv E. L. Wheelcr’.
Tn: TYPO Baa-"crivu. By Elwarrl Willett. ,
83 I.le Jon. By Major L. W. Carson . . . . . . ..

 

 

u
G

Wilton... .
287 BILLY BLUE-EYES.
238 Tch 80er KING.
259 JOLLY Jim‘s Jon.

By (‘01. P. lngraham. . . ..
By Capt. J. 1'. C. Adams.
by Charles Mon-is . . . . ..
290 LITTLE Foxrma. By 011 Ccon.€s . . . . . . . ..
2111 Tnuk, Tin; P'sums'r. By Eduard L. Wheeler.
2112 SANCIIO l’nnno. liy lhajor E. 1.. St. Vmin....
293 Ran CLAW. By Cnpluin (« IDSlLCk .

29.1 DYNAMITE DAN. By '1'. C. Iiartnuch"  be
295 FEARIJfiSS PHIL. LyEdwnrd WillItt.... . .. 50
291) DENVER DOLL‘s IllJl'T. lgy E. L. “l‘eelrr be
‘39? THE TARAN'J‘ULA or ’l'Aos. li‘y Buckskin Sam. 50
20% THE “'A'rEn-HOI‘ND. By C‘llarln s Morris. 5C
299 A No. 1.11m DAsIIING ’l'OLL-TAKEII. by E. »
L. \\ heelcr  .. . . . . . . . .. V
300 THE SKY DnIIoN. By 01] (comes. . 5'c -
301 LL‘Am'ILLE NICK. By Major E. L. St. Vrnin.. be .4
302 THE MOUNTAIN DE'l l-ZCTIVE. l y T. C. Har-
baugh.... . . . . ..  So
303 ‘LIZA JANE. THE GIRL Minn. ~.By Whmler. to
301 Tm: DEAD Sizo'r DAFDY. By Col. 1’. ‘ngiulmin. 5c
 DAsIIAWAY. or DAKOTA. By (hm-11s Mt rris. 5c
3015 NECK-TIE Nan. By Maj. H. B. Sl((l('uld. 50

307 THE STRANGE PAnn. By Lmkskin Sam. .
308 KENO KIT. By Ct]. Prentiss ll grazl am

309 DEADWOOD DICK’s FIG IJrAI. By \\1 mien.
31'! THE BARBANCA V- OI F. By Jos. F. Bm‘m‘r, Jr.
811 THE. Roero Sl’frlt'l‘. By Edward Willur...
312 Rumor Runs. 11y MO 'or E. L. St. VI'uin. ..
313 CIMARRON JACK. L‘y lire-derid- [rm y. ..
314 Tm: MYs'rIcnIOUs MAEATDER. B) I; “lam.
311 Nun, THE CABIN Br Y. By Jack Fermi. ut. ..
316 OLD ECLIrsE. By T. C. Hal-ban; 11.. ..
317 Pm“ OCR PETE. BylLieut. Ali’rul 'l'l ornc....

. 

3115 KER-WIIOUI’, Kan-Waco! 13y l‘uclcikin F: m.

319 THE BLACK RII Inn. By Jo“. E. ’ m1:m-,Jr...

3‘30 THE SEA Sonar sass. 13y Jail: ivrrngnt 

321 DEADwoon l‘I(,K‘s DOZFN. Br E. L. V\ lweler.

322 N [{MO. an. DETECTIVE. l y Edward Willett...

323 ARKANSAW JAMIK B Hairy Humid. . 51.
'21 RAIPH READY. Bv harles Mn rris :.. .. be
3:25 KELLEY, MICKEY ' ('o B ' E L. Wtecler. . be
3:36 BIII. BI ARE, THE SI AYER. .y 'l‘. C. Iiarl-anph. be
327 ( mam)an ('AT. Tm: CADI‘O. Byllrckskir Sam. 5c
328 THE SKY DILTl-lC’llVES. ByM‘ j' l'hiltk“)’Fl‘(‘(‘. 50
3%) Rim-SKIN TOM. By Barry Ham-d. . 5::
330 LITTLE le K-SI'OT. By Fdxmul L. “‘l-a eltr. 5c
3:51 1 lACK NICK. By C» t. Fred. \\ liittalu r. . 50
332 FIno Fran. l,y I.uc 'skin an‘. . .. 5c
33‘) BRIMFTONE Hon. 1 y Major E. L. St. Vrnin.... 50
3‘14 KAKGAROO KIT. By E L. Wheellr  . .. 5c
‘83.") OLD DounLE FIsT. By Jr se h E. End“ r, Jr.. be
will BIO lvEKRON. B ' 'l‘. C. Em augh.... ., to
337 BEN BInn. By V. J. Hamiln n . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 5c
ass AT. ran Bur. Ely Philip  Warne...  5c
33'.) 1{.‘NGI-.Il00 KIT‘s AIKET. l y E. L. V. heelor. Fe
340 ('11? Tun CONTOIITIINIST. By Fd Willitt.... {Fe
311 TONY Tu IINE. By Cl‘arlcs Morris... . . . 51:
842 THE MOUNTAIN DEVIL. By Harv l‘azard . hc
313 MANHATTAN MIKE. By Eur; rd .. Wl celcr.. be
344 Tm: FIGHTING Tue 18: l l‘( ksltin Sam . . . . .. 50
315 l’ITILass MATT. lyT. ,. Emlauglu . 51:

346 RAPIER RAPHAEL. By Maj: r H. B. Strdt'ard.
347 DnAnwoon Dch‘s DI'CA'Is. By E. L. letelcr.
348 FIRE-HEELS: or, Old I‘kirfhnt the Death-

Shadow. ly Roger Starbuck. . . .. .
319 “'l'J) WOLF. Tm: WACO. liy l‘uckskin Snm .
850 Ran RALPH. THE RIVER ovsn. 1y Ned

Buntline . . . . . . .. ..  . .

351 DEADWOOD DICK Smmczn. ByEdward L.

Wheeler. . .

352 Tomns'IONr. TOM. By Maj. E L St. Vrain
353 TIII: REPORTER DETEOIIYE. By Chas. Mon-13..
854 BIG HORN lam, THE HILLTPAIIP. By Starbuck.
355 THE KING (F Tm: W01 us; or, Daniel Boone 5
Last Trail. By Jos. E._Badger. Jr. . . 
356 COOL SAM AND PAan. B T. C. Harbaugh.....

357 'l‘Im RANCH RAInaas. aBuckskin Sam.
358 FIRST CLAss Faun. the cut from Gopher.
By Edward L. Wheeler....  . ..
359 DuaANoo DAvn, rm: YOUNG Wnrs'qua CuAII-
P1 N. B Maj. E. L. St.VI-a1n. . . . . .. . . .
360 SILvnn- ASK, Tin: MANOI' MYSTERY. By J. C.
Cowdrick . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ..
361 Tm: PaANTon LIG urnonsu. B R. Starbuck"
362 Dunwoon DIcII‘s CLAIM. . L. Wheeler..
86‘! LITTLII TORNADO. Philip s. Warne.. .. ..
364 SNAP-SHOT, Tm: BOY Icons. Buckskin Sam
3‘15 BALI-moan BEN. By A P. Morris. ..  
366 VELVET FOOT. THE INDIAN Dmc'nvn. By '1‘.
C.Harbaugh..   .. . . . . . . . . 
367 WIDE-AWAKE Jon. B Charles Morris  ..
338 YmAJnI. TEE Gom- ATnmn. By Wheeler.
369 SaAsTA. THE GOLD KING. By J. Ugowdrick.
370 Banana BEN, Tun Run-RUNNER. y Roger.
Starbuck.  ..
371 KINGBOLT Cmus. By Ms. ,
872 YRIIKA JnI's IZE. By . L. Wheeler. .... ..
373 Ll'l'l'I-l: Jmoo. By Philip S Warne..
374 GOLD DnsT Ton. By George Henry Mona...
375 CIIIOTA, TIII: By Buckskin 8am. .. .
876 CALIFORNIA Jon's Fms'r TRAIL. By Colonel
Thomas Hoyer Monster ..... ..
8'17 BONonnL. TB! BOY Rona. Col. Ingraham. 5°
378NAnon Nun. ByEdwaI-d L. eeler......... BO
879 LARRY. Tau Lanna. By Charles Monte... .. be
880 AVALANcnn ALI. By Maj. E. L. St. Vrain... to
881 Baum Bun. By Buckkin  

KIT. By Edward L. Wheeler... ...... . .
398 Tm: INDIAN PILOT. B 001. P. lug-shun..." Be
384 WHIP-KING Jon. By HCoomes..... so
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