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Published  1'3,"
1\I(. in 111.

A LIFE FOR A. LIFE.

DY W. J. HAMILTON.
AUTHOR or “run urn lilVV‘lllilillUOD," ETC.

Cll:‘.l"[‘lii’. I.
CAI‘GHT IN THE ‘* Nomimn."
THE tempth Was at its higlit, the furious rush
of the “Norther,” tuat scourge (-f the Texan
lains. No one, unless he has faced 1in chilling
lireatli, has any idea of the fem'ful danger which
hangs 0Vt‘l‘ the unfortunate :wlio‘is caught upon
the plains when tlw cold Wind is x: ltS hight.

rs. J. Hum .k «0.. :

 

Great trees are uplnrnwl by its gigantic powur,
buildings are thrown down,
and even the tough chapar-
ral is leveled as the tremeno
dons blast crushes ovpr it.
The air takes on a bluish
tin ;the clouds hang low
an the hitherto sultry air
becomes all at, once terribly
frigid, the chill piercing to
the very marrow.
Such was the scene upon
which the tale opens, and
two figures mi ht have been
seen lying um er a wall of
rocks 11 n the Texan border.
Their orses overcome b
fear, crouched upon the
beside them, emitting almost
human moans of fear, while
the men, wrafiping their
blankets about t em, pressed
as closely as possible to the
rocks, striving to shield them-
selves from the chilling blast.
Looking out upon the plain
they could see frightened
herds of animals of all de-
scriptions joined in strange
fellowship and flying before
the pitiless blast. Buffaloes
various kinds of deer, wild
cattle and mustangs, with
almost countless groups of
smaller animals, scurried
here and there. the wind
forcing them forward with
pitiless power.
“This beats my time,
Jack,” said one of the crouch-
ingmen—a handsome oung—
star of perhaps nineteen
years of e. ‘ It is a won-
derful exhl ition of the pow—
er of the Creator who gave
these countless herds this
(11668 plain to feed on.”
‘_‘ Don’t be babyish, Ned
W11,” said the man called
, a rather rough-looking
fellow in ranger dress, bear-
ing the never-faili rifle
pistolsandbowie. “ tdon’t
mud well to hear one of
our Maxim-ston-

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pliwl fin :. '1‘. \ll‘itVYllllJ; l‘ih‘ii a hill -. "11'"-
hrivs ‘(tvll :- HM livl: ill“ and pui'lii'ijur-z ll' l: :1? :1. \'
run it. unit It; for us to quarrel; “u have too
murh to lo 

“ Ymi m-wl not remind Illl‘ll‘i‘dl I am hound
hand and f wt. and in tlw qul‘l' of :i unwilwa
man, “ho think; advantage of (in Hillll iLi'u-(l
from me at the gallows-foot to lllillu‘ mo (in his
dirt \' Work.”

“ Do you want to draw back, Neil 3" demanded
the man. with s snrkliug eyes. “ You know the
penalty if you do.”

“ That h r Lin-penalty!”replied(Tlnytoi1,snnp-
ping his iiiigwrs. “ But for breaking a solemn
oath you could not held me for a SAUSI'} nay.”

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I Iifl‘lg’ll.” Ercv‘TF-«l Jack Evans, sav-
"11rd: at lizht i_‘(‘i'. Vll- i: Wr'm
.l t'..'i ll‘.“ 1‘.“   ‘ "ital was
‘11:; «ml Hull" 1-;  .. v :. Uni."
m'fiu- ifgr: r. a; flu: “é 1-1:“ ix "lzili‘Ll upon the
imam 16.11;»; inwv  ill llm V:l.’i.~' oi" :i l.~i‘(i of
T nutrients. and w trim: “119158ilrvi‘oiilm-storm
llriii,'l"".'1‘_flllli' l.le l‘.ll'.ll‘.‘ill_}‘ l»lomi\'iii.~1»osition
v \\'!l\' forgotten in his desire to escape. N61
. HUHE’ i’«.i'\'t;liwl :1 3.1.1». holding on llv :i stunted
. >hr'uli to in «‘1’ lviiiir-w’i‘ err-c1, u ln'll :11)“le unu-
» tum: ll(>lii.’lt‘-i wildly past. and. clii’iging tolis
; inane and keeping her seat only by a drziperah
: l-ll'ort, was a beautiful girl not more than Sb-
icon years of agv‘. Ned had only a glimpse of 3
white bountiful face. golden luiir flouting out 'I
the breath of the norther, and the look of ta:
ror iii ‘LliL- heawxnlv blue eves, when the min
tang was out of sialit rounding the point of tb
timber just in from.
“Did you so: that. Jack Evans?" screamed
Ned. “She will die in the
storm if we do not give mt

helP! ‘
_‘ How are you going to
give her help while the nor—

thei‘ lasts!” re lied Jack,
coolly. “You’ better 1'-
after her; like enough ya:
can keep up with the wind.’

“Do you know that I
should take pleasure in
‘leolglging .fiOgthggn, friend

ac . 5211 e setti"
his teeth hard. “ Cline ya,
don’t drive me too far. ”

Jack Evans glanced i
the broad shoulders all
swelling musclel of his on!
companion, and wise y m-
frained froms ' ga
to arouse his rage furtlmr.

Y “ I didn‘t mean any tug!
bed,” he said, humbly.
know you‘d like to help‘lb
girl and so would I. M
wk at those horses 8. mo
IllL'Xlt. Do you think itpu»
bable that you could
them to move out in
norther? They are shim-
in with fear now.”

[ed glanced at the limb-
ling brutes and ackno
ed, with a groan of d ,
that they were useless new
but he might beableto
low on foot. He dart!
away with this intention tn:
was thrown down treating
and forced to crawl had
again to the shelterof the
rocl'u‘.

” Now listen to me, Ned,”
said Jack Evans, as theboy
lav sobbin upon the earth.
“I know it’s hard to see a
Erett)‘ creature go that we .,

ut, what can we do? Tm
as if we had not done our
best to saveher,and lists
soon as the storm
we’ll foller her and pain;-
we‘ can be of some um ’

al

 

  

  

 

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on his elbow.
nun-er right than I was, after all.
aq signs of a break, yet."

“It wont last half an hour,” replied Jack,
looking at the sky. “You can see fer ycrsclf
tht it is lightening up to the northward. and
we can start soon. Talk to the horses :1 little;
yen understand the brutes better than I do.”

Ned crept to the side of his trembling horse
and began to fondle him, and the animal
ceased to quake with fear. and the light came
into his c} cs. Ned passed over to the other ani- .
malt, and by skillful handling, soon got him1
over his fright, and if they shivered now it was
not with fear.

"They are all right now, and will do any
thing We, ask of them,” said Ned. “It is get-

’ warmer, I think."

‘ I told you that we had got the worst of it,” ‘
said Jack. “If I understand any thing, it is 3
the Texan prairies. I‘m a rough man, Ned, and §
have done many a wicked thin", in my time,
but an innocent little creature 1i 6 that can find
the way to my heart uicker than any thing
else on earth. Do you now why é”

“ You must tell me, Jack.” ,

“I had a little sister, once, with just such |
hair and eyes. I loved her better than any l
thing else on earth, and she died. I tell you, '
Ned. if that little child had lived, Jack Evans
would not be an outlaw now, hunted for his I
scalp. At times I seem to see her face, and l
she’s kept my hand from blood many a time. I
Wish she could do it always.” I

“Shake hands, Jack,” cried the boy. “I’m |
proud to have you for a friend, and if we uar- |
rel again, it won’t be my fault, now t atI I
know you.” ’

“ A man don’t dare to let out the good in his
heart among that truck yonder,” replied Jack, 1
with a motion of his hand toward the Chapar—
ral. “You know how it is, Ned—they‘ll say 1
old Jack Evans is turning baby. I’ve thoughta l
hundred times I’d shake them and go to the |
Nor‘—wcst; but I love Texas, and they’ve got all |
I have in their hands.” I

“\Vc’ll talk about this another time, Jack. ,
Don’t you think we might venture out now 5” ;

“Vl'ait about five minutes, Ned. Here itl
canes again, and this is the last gust. It’s an g

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“You‘ve got a heart yet, and
Do "on see ‘
, J .

Mil wind, the northcr.”

The blast swept by, carrying destruction in
in! path, and then suddenly ceased, and the at-
m-sphero began to change. They looked to
their girths, pettod the horses a little, and '

ng into the tddle, riding slowly out upon

trail. By good luck the black mustangr and

‘(1 through the point of the timber. scatter-
ing the bushes in his course, and for thL. point
they headed, and found bits of cloth flunering
upon the mesquit thorns, while a clearly-defined
trail crossed the prairie toward the south.

“Forward,” criod Ned, bending forward in
the saddle, and fixing his eyes upon the trail;
“we will save her yet.”

 

CHAPTER II.
IN THE TREE-TOP. \

FOR half an hour they rode in silence on each
side of the trail, which luckily was not crossed
‘ fieothers, and the could keep up a good pace.
face of Ned layton wore a somber. look,
for he feared, at each roll in the prairie, to
come upon the mangled form of the girl who
had flitted by so strangely, caught in the north-
er. Jack Evans said not a word, but his eyes
wan busy, and as roll after roll of the prairie
was crossed he began to hope.

“She’s a. luck little darling anyhow” he
said at  “Ifbw she hangs ’to that half-
hroken mustang!”

“If she can kee the saddle, there is some
vbpe,” re lied Ne ,with a sort of sob; “but
the groan is getting awful rough.”

The trail turned a little at this point, and
headed for a. thick growth of mesquit, about a
mile in front. - Jack paused; a. look of wild ter-
ror came into his face, and he clutched at the

el of his saddle for support. The look of
I y fear upon his face was reflected upon

- thatof bisyoun com ‘on.
“ What is it, ack?” 9 said, in a. sort of whis-

r.
pa“He heads for Dee Gulch. If she has gone
down there, mortal elp is of no avail. But
' 9, £011; life tor death.”t0 th L
struc in t air spurs 6 very rowe s,
uni-ted on. The horses seemed‘to partake
of their spirit, and the mi? was over in
'le-Ithan two minutes bot mu gsgoingat
of their ' every nerve.

 

filo , straining
my: ‘ kc into t e bushes, and pulled up on

  

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

the verge of a ravine so deep that the low pines
which grew at the bottom scarcely touched the
eogc.

Ned Clayton started back with that look of
horror frozen upon his face. In his wild prairie—
lifc he had often seen men, die—had braVcd
death himself: but what was death in the heart
of an Indian conllict compared with such a one
as ihisf Iiis stroll; nulsclos lost their strength,
and he sunk to the (arth weak as a child.

“Sb-adv ’ This won't do, Ned,” said Jack
Evans. stcrnly. “ Come, be a man.”

The words nervcd him and he sprung to his
feet and approached the fatal verge and looked
down. The branches of the trces beneath had
bci-nparted by the fall of a heavy body, but
had risen again, concealing the earth beneath.

“ I‘m afraid it‘s all over, Ned,” said Jack
Evans. " It is forty feet to ihe. ground, and if
the trees did not break the fall— Will you go
down, or shall I?”

“ I’ll go,” replied Ned, eagerl '. “I’m the
best climber, by all odds, and if need you, I’ll
sing out. Give me your lariat.”

Jack took the dressed rawhide lariat from his
saddle and passed it over to Clayton, who join-
ed it to his own by the knot known as the double
bowline, which could not jam or slip.

This done, he fastened one end of the rope
about a tree and threw the other over the edge
of the cliff, where it dangled within a few feet
of the ground. Assisted by Jack, the boy swung
himself over the verge, and went down the
lariat, hand over hand with great rapidity, and,
reaching the earth unhurt, parted the bushes
and saw the mangled form of the black mus-
tang lying upon the uarled roots of the pine
trees, crushed into a s iapclcss mass by the fall.
llis legs were broken, his neck doubled under.
neath iis body and the skull crushed to a. pom-
ace. Exerting his utmost strength, the boy
managed to thrust the body aside as he saw no
trace of the beautiful girl. \Vhere could she be
if not beneath the fallen steed? A close search
about the body revealed nothing, and Ned
shouted to his companion above:

“ The horse is here but the girl is nowhere to
be seen.”

{Q he spoke he glanced upward and saw some-
thing vulch and ghastly among the green leaves
of a pine tree. thirty feet above his head. He
uttered a cry of dismay. The girl was up the
tree, but whether dcador alive he could not tell.
Grasping the body of the tree, he ascended rap—
idly and reached the place where the white dress
of the girl showed amid the foliage. As he came
near he could see that fie was senseless, and
that there were spots of blood upon her dress.
She had fallen upon a strong branch which
tended u ward, and had been thrown into
a fork of the pine in such a way that even
though dead it would have been impossible for
her to fall. Ned pushed upward in a fever of
excitement, fearing that she might fall before
he could get to her, but he breathed more freely
when he swung himself up to the limb by her
side and looked down into the beautiful face.

“ I never saw anything half so beautiful,” he
murmured. “Oh, Heaven, I hope she is not
dead.”

She was indeed beautiful—one of those rare
creatures in whose face you can read spotless
purity of heart. He ently disengaged her
from the branches, raise her head a little, and
could feel that she was warm, and placing his
{finger on her wrist decided that the pulse still

t

a .

“ Alive, Jack!” he shouted, cheerfully. “ Hur-
rah! Let us get her up out of this hole.”

The tree stood close to the edge of the ravine,
and Jack ushed out the lax-int with a pole so
that the y could grasp it. Drawing it in
quickly, Ned lashed 1t under the arms of the
senseless girl in such a way that it could not

sli .

RTake in the slack above, Jack,” he said.
“Carefully now; wait till I give the word.”

He took the senseless form upon one arm and
walked out far as he dared upon a stout limb,
holding to one above him for support. Here he
held her out until the cord was perpendicular
and she could not strike against the wall, and
then ave the signal to his friend above, who
haul away and soon had the light form of the
girl safe upo; 4the level, at the verge of the
chasm. The rope was now let down for Ned,
and he quickly stood upon solid earth, gazing
with a stragge fondness at the beautiful being
he had sav . ,

“I tell you what it is Jack,” he whispered,
“ she is worth all the tron lo we have had. She
was alive when I tookber up and I gums we can

her around.” I i
“ 1: some water,” cried Jack, shortly.

 

“ Don’t stand filing there, you young cub, un-
less vou want be r to die, on our hands.”

“ ut some whisky on her li )s and nostrils
while I go for the water.” said - ed, snatching
the canteen from his saddle. “ I’ll put a girdle
round the earth in forty minutes. for her sake.”

“ She is a nice girl,” said Jack, uncorking the
canteen and pouring a portion of its contents
into his palm. " Aw’ay with you.”

Ned hurried away while the older man stoop-
cd and bathed the pale lips of the fainting girl
in the strong spirits. He had satisfied himself
that she still lchd and that no bones were
broken, and bent over her fondly, his rough
face showing a sympathy hardlv to be looked
for in one of his (3 ass. l-Ie was thinking of that
sister whom he had 10st so long ago—a child
like {this—and what he might have been had she

1Vc< .

The color began to steal back b imperceptible
degrees into the pale cheek of t ie girl and She
stirred a little just as Ned came back with the
canteen of water.

“Fill the cup about two-thirds full and give
it to me,” he said. “ She is coming to herself.”

Ned obeyed orders and stood waiting anxious-
ly, holding the cup while the run er bathed the
face and neck of the maiden in t 19 pure liquid
which the boy had brought. Their perseverance
had its reward, for she opened her eyes looking
wildly at them.

“ There, there, little ’un,” said Jack, tenderly
“you are all right now, if you keep up a good
heart. Give me the cup, Ned!”

He took it from the now trembling hand of
the boy and poured in a little of the liquor.
This done. he made her drink a little, and in a
moment she was able to sit up, supported by the
ranger.

" That’s right, little ’un,” said Jack. “Never
say die while you have good fricndson hand,
ch? Drink a little more and get strong.”

She obeyed with touching confidence, but was
evidently in a 11.1120 of d 111M, not knowing
where she was. Her eyes pt :sed from the dark
face of Jack to the more youthful and handsome
one of Nm Clayton, and aghmpse of remem-
brance can *to l.cr.

“ I saw y on under the rocks when I passed,”
she whispered. "I can recall little except the
fearful storm, and that terrible ride across the
prairie, and then I fell, and can remember noth-
ing more.”

“ This youngster was for chasing after you in
the ‘norther,’ but he couldn’t go ten steps before
he was down,” said Jack, laughing.

“Thank you ” said the girl, softly, “thank
you very muc . I know that I should have
died but for you. Where did you find me? I
know that I fell, that is all.”

“ I’ll tell you as we ride back,” said J ack, bur
riedlv, for I(‘ saw that Ned was about to show
her the fearful danger from which she had been
rescued. “ Where did you live, little ’un?”

“My name is Lillian Hardin, and m. father
has a ranch down the river toward tanley-
ville.”

Jack cast a- look of strange meaning at his
young companion.

“ Ca tam Hardin, do you mean?-the Ranger
of the i0 Grande’t”

“They give my father that name upon the
river. Oh, gentlemen—”

“Hold on,” said Jack. “ I ain’t a. gentleman
—fur from it. I’m a regular old Texican ranger,
hide and hoof, and gentry and myself don’t
mix. Well, as my young friend Ned has busi-
ness with your father, I guess we’d better tod-
dle 77

“ Where is my horse?”

‘ B’leeged to leave him,” said Jack, shortly.
“ You’ll ride behind me, and m mustan won’t
feel your weight no more ’n :1 Gather. 0 you
feel strong enough to ride now?”

She arose at once, but as she still seemed
weak, the old ranger caught her in his arms and
carried her quickly d0wn the $10 , while Ned
took up the lariats, untied them, p aced them on
the horses, and led them through the bushes.
They had just reached the edge of the chaparral,
when the older ran er pause and held 11 his
hand—a signal whic the oung man had) too
often seen not to understand. It meant danger
At a touch from Ned the horse sto ped short
and stood silent, while Ned stole gen y forward
and reached the side of his com 'on, who had
sunk upon one knee, holding Li ' n in his arms,
and was peering through the bushes at a. up
of Comancbes who stood
about three hundred yards from the cover.
They were in their war-pain gorgeous in
scrapes gnd feathers, and y were not
pleasant neighbors for the small party in the

 

 

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Single Hand.

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“The girl must be hidden,” whispered Jack.
" If them cusses strike our trail. they will fol-

low like hounds on a scent. I know their natur’, ‘=

and it is p’izen to think how mean they can be.
Meanness is their natural gait.
them.”

Lifting Lillian in his arms again, he began to
search for a hiding-place. lle found it at last——
asort of natural cavity in the face of the ra—
vine, so overhung with bushes and Vines as to
completely conceal it from View. Telling her
to remain quiet, and on no account to move un-
less she heard her name called, he hhrried back
to the spot where the boy was still watching for
the coming of the Indians, who remained in the
same position, conversing eagerly, and pointing
now and then to the south. Ata glance Jack
had recognized the man who had led them,
" Sin le Hand,” a rcdoubted chief of the Co-
manc les, a man who was known and feared for
years along the Texan borders. lIe alone was
mounted, a man of gigantic mold, with a face
out like a Roman cameo, a nose hooked like the
beak of a vulture, and black eyes full of savage
fire. The W'estern annals are full of tales of
his prowess and savage deeds. He had dared to
ride at the head of a thousand warriors through
the streets of a Mexican city of forty thousand
inhabitants, slaying as he went and carrying
off almost incalculable spoils. 0 had taken
his share in a hundred fights with the rangers,
and many a Texan family had cause to remem-
ber his name with sorrow. His dark hair, un
polluted by knife or shears, fell to his saddle,
and upon his stately head he wore a tiara of
many-colored feathers, giving him a strangely—
picturesque appearance. But this man, perfect
in every other respect physically, had one do-
fect. He had but one hand, and from this cir-
cumstance derived his name. there his left
hand should have been there was nothing except
a round. bony protuberance shaped somewhat
like the head of an adder. He wore the peculiar
dreSs of the Comanche chief, and over all was
cast a gaudy scrape, probably taken from some
unfortunate Mexican who had crossed his track.

“ I don‘t like the look of this, Fred,” whisper-
ed Jack. “I don‘t think we are game to take
care of twcnt Comanche with Single Hand at
their head. \ 'hy don't the mean cusses go on
about their business, blast ‘em 5”

At this moment one of the ymmgcr warriors
approached Single Hand and said something to
him, pointing to the prairie not far away.

“Bet you forty ( ollars he sees our trail,”
groaned J aek. “ See here; we’ve got to shin,
out of Galilee, mighty quick, or we are done for.
Lead the bosses back to the edge of the ravine
and take off the lariats at the place where we
went down.”

Ned hurried back at once and Jack remained
to watch. He saw that the Indians were scat—
tered over the plain, studying the fresh trail,
and from time to time pointing to the Chaparral.
At last, seeming to make up their minds, they
made a sudden dash for the thicket—so quickly,
indeed, that it was with the utmost difficulty
Jack ’ot back in time to avoid them. He found
that ed understood him and had already hung
the lariats over the cliff and was waiting for him.

“Down with you, my lad,” cried Jack.
"‘ Here they come, devil bent for election. Take
your rifle.’ 4

They “ slung” their rifles, pistons tind ammu-
nition, and slid down the rope into the tree and
from thence to the ground, and found a cave
which commanded the ver ,0 of the fissure,
"where they were out of sig t. They had not
done this a. moment too soon, and their horses,
which had fled at the approach of the Indians
were hardly out of sight, when the tufted hea
of a Comanche warrior appeared looking down
into the ravine.

“ The white men are not Hrds to fly through
the air,” said a commanding voice, speaking in
the Comancne tengue. " They are hi den
somewhere. Let my you'rg men look for them,
for we have been long upon the plains and have
not taken one American Scalp.”

They could hear the Indians hurrying to and
fro above them, and feared that they might dis—
cover the »hiding— lace of Lillian. But, from
the place where ey crouched, they could see
that the hanging vines and bushes which con-
cealed her were as yet undisturbed.

“The little ’un is smart she is,” whispered
J wok. “If they don’t find her, we can take our
chances. Hal the red nigger has found the 13.-

It was but too true. The means of their de-
scent was revealed for it had been impossible
for them to move it after going down. A wild

911 from the Comm ounood their
at the disco

ch06 can do-

 

It just suits .

CHAPTER III.

HIDE AND SEEK.
, LILLIAN remained snugly ensconced in the
l nook in which she had been placed by the cau-
tions ranger, listening with bated breath to the
cries of the savages. and quaking with terror
every time the footsteps came near her in the
progress of the search.

grieved that t
had brought them into danger. She approached
the opening and moral out without moving the
leaves but C()lll( not see them although the
movement brought the lariat by which they
had descended into view, and showed her that
an Indian had already commenced the descent
and that others were waiting to follow.

“ Are they blind or have they found some
way of escape, that they make no sign?” she
muttered. The idea was no sooner formed than
it was answered, for the sudden discharge of
two rifles, so nearly at the same moment that it
seemed like one report, sounded through the
glen. The savage u )on the rope released his
hold and fell into t e ravine with a loud crash
as the branches broke beneath him, and another
who stood upon the cliff fell dead in his tracks.
This sudden attack surprised the Indians, who
at once dropped behind the rocks, while a hoarse
cry of triumph came from below.

A strange battle now commenced about the
ravine. The moment the two besieged menhad
fired they shifted their ground a little, while the
bullets and arrows of the Indians rattled
through the leaves into the spot over which the
smoke of the rifles arose. They lay sheltered
beneath a great pine, the trailing branches of
which SWe )t the rround, and whenever an In-
dian dare show llS head abOVe the ledge it be-
came the mark of a bullet. Both Ned Clayton
and Jack Evans were finished marksmen, and
were not likely to miss their aim at that dis-
tance, and they soon made this evident to the
Indians, who had four killed and as many
wounded when they withdrew to consult.

“ They’ll make, it warm for us yet, Ned,” said
Jack. in a low tone. “ We must shin out of this
somehow.

“ And leave Lilian!” cried Ned, indignantly.
“ I’ll never do it.”

“ Can‘t we come back, you obstrcpelous
young varmint!” whispered Jack. “ I ain't
more likely to leave her than you are.”

“ All right; don’t let Your angry passions
rise, Jack, for I’m sure did not mean any
harm, so lead the wa . But, hold on; we ought
to giVe her some kin of a signal to show her
that we mean to come back.”

“ Can‘t be done, boy; she will stay until we
return; you may bet on that. Come on.”

There was little time to lose, for already half
a dozen lariats were hanging over the sides of
the ravine, and the Indians were preparing to
descend. Stooping low and keepin under the
shadow of the gloomy piles, they arted awa
up t 10 ravine, moving cautiously, thou r
swiftly. The bottom" of the ravine was of t 16
hardest rock, and to trail them would be im-
possible. For half a mile there was no break in
the gulch-wall, but at last they reached a place
where an irregular cleft ran upward upon the
side 0 posite the cavity in which Lilian lay
conce ed. They climbed up hastily and reach-
ed the top, and at once turned back toward the
place which they had 'ust left, keeping out of
si ht behind the bus es. The frantic cries
w 'ch they heard below them, convinced them
that the Indians were again at fault. Looking
into the ravine, Ned saw them hurrying wildly
about, seeking vainly for some trace of the fu-
gitives.

“They’ll have to give it 11 ,Jack,” chuckled
the boy. “ If we only had ' lian With us now,
we could leave them alone in their 10 .”

“ I didn’t like to risk it,” said §ac Evans.
“ They are mean cusses, and the gal is perfectly
safe where I left her if she don’t get impatient
and show herself before the time. Keep dark,
now; them Kimanche would start at the rustle
of a leaf.” ‘

They stole on cautiously, and reached the point
at which they aimed, just opposite the hiding-

lace-of Lillian. Here they foun a shelter and
ay down to watch. Mom this ver they could
see that onl eight or ten of the savages had
gone into t e ravine, and that the rest were
standin in a group above the immovable f!
of Sing 6 Hand, upon the verge of the c eft,
watching the proceedings of their companions
below, with intense interest.

One of the savages inhis search happened to
nearthefamoftho rockwhichwasthehi -
place of'Lillian. He paused suddenly and pi 3'

 

i

r
l
l
l
l
l
l

She had seen her two .
strange friends descend the ravine and knew ;
that, for the present, they were safe, but was i

10 desire to be of service to her ‘

 

 

ed up something which lay upon the earth, and
looked at it close] '.
small twig, covered with green leaves, but t
readeis of nature become perfect in their art
by studying the trivialitics which others would
pass by in contempt. ‘

Where did the t“ ig come from? It w. s green,

It was nothing excelpta ‘
056

had not been broken from the parent stem more ,

than half an hour. How then did it come here,

since none of his companions had passed the ‘

spot? These Were the questions which forced
themselves upon the nund of the savage. He
step (1 back a pace or two, intently examining

the face of the cliff for a solution of the ques— ‘
tion, and his eye brightened as it lighted upon .

the bushes which hung over Lillian’s place of
concealment, for he saw that other twigs were
bent and broken and that some had been ar-
ranged in too artistic a manner.

An Indian does not readily follow a false
scent, nor does he like to raise afalse alarm,

lest he incur the ridicule of his companions. *

This man was an old warrior, and had much to

lose if he misled his com anions, so he threw ’

down the twig and walke deliberately back to
one of the lariats which hung over the cliff, and
commenced the ascent.

“ Now what is that red thief after?” whisper—
ed Jack, w ho had been watching his movements,
uneasily, for some moments. “He means mis-
chief, I am afraid.”

“ Shall I give it to him?” demanded Ned, eager-
1y throwing forward his rifle.

“ No, hold on,” replied Jack. “I don’t want
to let them know that we are here until we are
forced to do it. Let him go 11 .”

It would have been better i ' Ned had followed ’

his first im )ulse, for the man did mean mi. ief.
He struggled to the top of the cliff and was
helped up by 'those who remained with the
chief.

“ Why does Nemona. come here?” said Single
Hand. “Has he seen something from below?”

“Nemona has seen something,” replied the
warrior. “ He does not know whether it is a
good sign or a false one, but will go and see.”

He stalked away alone, and a moment after— ’

ward appeared upon the summit of the cliff,
direct] above the spot where Lillian lay.
Then ack Evans saw too late that he had been
wrong in suffering the Indian to esca )0 so long,
and as he bent down to thrust aside the bushes,
the ranger raised his rifle and fired, and Ncmona,

without a cry, fell from his perch into the ravine '

below.

“ That comes of being too cussed inquisitive.”
roared Jack. “Give it to the others, my boy.”

Ned fired and had the satisfaction of crcatmg
a decided disturbance in the group about Single
Hand.
through the heart, and the bullet passing com-
pletely through his body, wounded the great
chief slightly in the wrist. In an instant the
place was deserted, not an Indian remaining in

sight, either upon the cliff or in the ravine be‘ W

low

me see the red nigger t lat dares to put a finger
upon those bushes while I am here to watch.“

One man dropped in his tracks, shot '

“.We’ll guard that 5 0t,” cried Jack. “Let 

The Indians down in the ravine were in a --

tight place. They had the highest respect for
the aim of the rangers, and knew that it would
be ver, unhealthy for them to show hand or
foot w 'e the whites were on the watch. It
was an awkward predicament, and Single
Hand began to be very doubtful whether any
thing was to be made out of this obstinater
valiant pair.

The two had reloaded their rifles and were on _

the watch for any second attem t to approach
Lillian’s hiding- lace. Sing}: and was acute
enough to see that somet '  was concealed
near the spot where Nemona ad met his fate
which the rangers desired to defend, and he
was equally determde to find what this hid-
den treasure might be. Creeplng up to the edge
of the ravine, he shouted an order to his men
below in the Indian tongue, and Jack Evans be-
gan to look blue.

“ We have got to git,” he said.
hear hat he said?”

“D n’t know the Comanche tongue,” replied
Ned. “ What did he say?”

“ He ordered them to up the ravine, find a
place to climb up, and ta e us in the rear.”

“ Don’t let us run, for God’s sake, Jack,”
pleaded Ned. “I can t leave her that way.”

“We’ll only get 'chawed up if we stay,” said
Jack. "‘ Let me think it over. I have it—como
with me.”

He slung his rifle and darted into the chap”-
ral, closer followed b Ned Cla n, and mak-
ing a circuit, approoc ed the c oft where they

had come up from the ravine. Here they lay
, .

“ Did you

   

        
     
     
     
        
        
         
        
     
      
  
 
 

  

-w'n

' enemies to decamp, which t
- antly did, full of rage at their loss.

  

4

'Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

 

(

down and waited, and shortly after the Indians
who had been in the ravine came out of the
cleft, and strikir; their trail above, followed it
SWiftly southward. The moment their forms
were concealed by the branches, Jack arose,
laughing, and the two went down the cleft into
the ravine.

“ That was well done, J aek,” said the deli glit—
ed boy. “I don’t know that we can help her,
anyhow, but [want to see the last of it and

know which way they take her, and then we t

can see the captain and tell him what brill).

They crept in silence until they had passed
the. place where they had previously been con—
cealed, ere the savages could complete the cir-
cle which they w'oul l doubtle-s illlilil‘ before
they ill:~'li“ll in upon the emplr 11"4. .’\;.;’:!iti
they concealed tlll‘fllN‘lYt‘S :lllil untitled further
developments.

"' We are playing this {game of lll’lU—Il‘illl-Hi‘t‘il
pretty tine, Ned, my boy." .‘Lllli l‘lvans,
can‘t inst l'orevl-r, and the}; \'.ill get round us
sure. H l can get a. crack at Sillflli‘ llnnd now,
his. l(>:)l'l‘.: will be at an end, for In marl; him,
down certain.”

The s:t.\':r;:-s who had coineup from llii ravine
gathered in cautiously, hl‘ll pantie their rns‘h,
yelling“ iii-:0 demons. bill they :twppeil in blank
dismay .‘L-w they found the birds llown. 'l‘heii‘
cries of ti'iuzr‘ph l'lli‘lllijl'li to (players of surprise.
and thin one of tnem shouted the unweiiome
tidings to the chief.

“ Which w.th have they gone,"
Hand. with nit showintr liiii:~~'elt'.

“The :rri. i: n. ls l’\‘\i_ll ‘lw iii-x netting; sun,"
plied the warrior who bud spoken. V

“ They heard. the words of Single llanzl when
he told you what to do, and have lied." said the
chief. “ Let the warriors return and we will go
on our way. This; has been a bad trail for to.)
sons of the Comanche.“

“ Bet your life it has," muttered Jack. “Ain‘t
it high. Ned, the way we have fooled the mean
sharks!”

“ lint they will get Lillian, now, and it seems
hard after what we have done.”

“ \Ve can’t do any more. If we fire at them
now when they show themselves, these other
blackguards behind will come, down on us like a
flood, and we can help her more if we keep
shady than we could after they had raised our
ha’r. It isn’t a very big party, anyhow, and
I’ll bet my last pieayune we get her away from
them in less than two days, if we only lay low
and keep dark till the imps leave. that do you
an .3”

‘ I suppose you are right,” said Ned, “ but it
giflinds me terribly to let them beat us, after

slion ted Single

1‘“.

“They’ve lost some scalps trying“ it on," said
Jack, “and that don’t set very well on their
womachs. Quiet now, for your life.”

Two savage warriors ap iroached the place
which the whites had de ended so long, and
thrust aside the bushes. Jack Evans groaned,
and Ned covered his face with his hands, for he
did not“ wish to witness the capture of Lillian.
But a low exclamation from J ck caused hini‘to
bokup, and he saw that, as he Indians had
worn away the bushes from the cavity, it was

empty. _

_, ‘ Oh, wouldn’t I like to ell now?” hissed
Jack, below his “breath. “ ouldn’t I 1i eto
scream like a painter? That gal has tric ed
them, as sure as you are born.”

The Indians were at a stand-still. It must be
remembered that they were not certain that
the cavity contained any one, but were led to
think so by the obstinacy with which the whites
resisted any approach to the spot. Now that they
saw it was empty they did not know what to
think. If there had been a trail, it had been
obliterated by their feet, and for the present,

' lian, wherever she might be, was safe.

‘Oh, how I want to yell,” m ttered Jack.
“ Smart? It ain’t a name or 1t. S e’s the ’cutest
'rl in Texas. Hush! here come our friends
glam the other side.”

The warriors now appeared and were assisted
up the clifl’ by their friends, and for awhile the
murmur of voices could be heard above them.
The whites remained quiet waiting for their

hey at last reluct-
As usual
in such cases where it is possible they carried
ofl the bodies of their slam friends, and as the
sound of retreating hoofs could be heard the old

rangr lea ed to his feet.

“ lory allelu'ah! They are off and they
ain’t, got the gir l Now, then, let us try to find
her ’ '

The scrambled up the side of the ravine,
aided y one of the lariats which had been left

. hadn‘t AS they reached the crest Jack hur-

 

"but it ;

 

 

 
   

 

ried out to the edge of the Chaparral and looked
after the Indians, and saw that they were near-
ly a mile away, riding swiftly across the great
plain. They had evidently given up all hope of
revenge, at least for the present.

“ All right, Ned,” cried Jack.
see if she answers.”

Ned wliistled and called Lillian by her name.
A merry laugh was the reply. and, as it seemed
to come almost from the earth beneath. he look—
ed down and saw the })l“lllllllb face of Lillian
peeping up from among the branches of a low
pine near the edge of the ravine. As is ol'len
the case \\ illi these times the low r brunt-hes
touched the ground. forming iinilemeniii e.
spit-W134! llllllllf""ili£l i'.

“ Hurrah!" cried i‘lel. " llt‘l'!‘ '11 the
size ol' litef (‘on e «:21 of that.  on li'tii- a itulll‘

“ Call her and

.1 ,
5,,1.‘

lil' 11H:.l.\lt‘li izl‘l‘ it) gel Hill H! in t' lllllllig'dll‘il't“

end rec: ive the warm grit-13w. ot'.l.-icl; that».
who was delighli-ii lieyo :d measure at h ‘3' es-
t-zipe. After the iodinns in the in». i"
moved :i'.\‘.tj'.:tud szit' lied that lit“ ("iinritielH-i:
Would \illllll l'oi'ci- hz-i'f'rictei 21o deermip. slve hrtd
crept oul ol' l:"l‘ hidinv‘piul e whim the i'et‘ '
were ei'e. ping; out ol sight of 134- nevertniiiog
rifles and low-oi her way llllllt‘!‘ the one
brancbm. l‘iy {fowl fortune :liis mow i-nenl diil
notatirnct the attention ol’ the enemy.

“ All right so tar," said Jack. “ Now, then,
let us look for the bosses.”

   

 

kins

   

(JllAlfi'l‘iClL lV.

'I‘ll'l‘l MlJl-I'l'let—l’l‘lhlil2's TASK.

 

'l'lllil horses had only run :i short, distance. and,
bent}: \\ell»tr:iineil, the shrill whistle ol' Ned
(‘l:‘,_‘.‘l't’;n ipiiekly brought them to the spot.
After lookiur; carefully across tliepv'.tii‘ie and
ascertaining the general directinn taken by lhe
(‘oiiirtiii-lies, they i'e-Lle oil at :t i'i;‘lil~:liiele wilh
the course of their enemies, and put. the horses
along at a good price. Lillian rode beliiirl 55-h
l‘lvzins, whose strong horse did not seem to i5‘l
her :uldilionul Weight. and carried them nobly.
Half an hour later, as they crossed a roll in the
prairie, they saw a strong party of horsemen.
far in front, halted i‘oramoment upon the green
prairie.

“Who is that!“ cried Jack, sharply.
you make them out, Ned '1”

“ Rangers,” replied the boy. in a short, quick
tone. “ We have nothing to fear from them.”

The rangers had sighted them at the same
moment, and at a word from their leader those
who had dismounted sprung again into the sad—
dle, and the whole band darted toward them.
As the came nearer, Lillian uttered a cry of
joy an stretched out her hands toward a hand—
some, midJe-aged man who rode at the head of
the troop. A wild cheer went up from the en-
tire partv as they put their horses to the gallop
and quickly surrounded our two friends, while
the leader caught Lillian in his arms and clasped
her to his breast.

“My child, my child my darlin Lilly!
where have you been? If you only ew all
that we have suffered on your accmmt.”

“I am sorryr I Went away, father,” replied
Lillian, “but I went for a ride, and when the
storm came on Vesuvius ran awa with me.
You must thank these kind friends, ( ear father,
for but for them I should be dead, or at least a
prisoner of the Comanches.”

Captain Hardin turned to Jack Evans and ex-
tended his hand.

“Take it,” he said. “ It is the hand of an
honest man and true Texan, and I Swear faith
to you and yours while I give it. The time ma
come when I may be of service to you and
shall not forget you.”

. “ You don’t want to givo me too much
praise,” said Jack. “This youngster had more
to do with it than I did, and would have fol-
lowed her through the norther if he could.”

The captain shook hands heartily with Ned,
and was evidently taken with his handsome, in-
genuous face.

“ We shall be great friends,” he said, heartily.
“ Get Lilly’s horse, Staples. Gentlemen, on
must come with me and accept my hospita ity
fora time, for we cannot part until we knew
each other better.”

Ned was looking over the ranger band and
thought he had never seen so strange a party.
Men of all ages-—youthz manhood and men with
gray hair—composed it, but upon every face
was imprinted that reckless disregard of per-
sonal danger so euliar to the prairie—men. All
were well arm , though there was little re -
larity in their st le of dress, and each carri a
lasso coiled to h saddle—bow.

“ What waslt the gal said ’bout the Emma-

“ Do

    

l
|
I
l

lillll‘

 

t-l-W.:il‘.ll in) with \\'lil lw

che, stranger?” said a griz‘zly old ranger. named.
Prairie Joe. “That kind 0’ interests me, that
does.”

“ We were attacked in Deep Gulch by about
twenty of them under Single llztnd. We rubbed
out some and the rest gave it up as a bad job
and left.”

“ Kimmanehc? Single Hand! I hope you
hear that. Cap.” ’

" l hear,” said Hardin, who was talking fond-i
ly with his daughter. “ llon‘t be afraid, Joe.
lt' Single llaizd has (lurid to conic soneartbe
station we will make him repent it. but not-
no-n.‘ ‘

" l‘m :il'enrd he‘ll get awn ,zs'rinu‘iled Jen.

“ it is only a :l;o.~t hour‘s rirh- lo tlxe ranch
in torment iintll '.
lil‘m  llllly l: ,('l..

' that“. no,“ said Joe. "it‘ll r" uld'i't you let
the lake ‘bt ill ten my iiwi and i'wlli-r up Single
lland: I‘m :itei'ally sp‘ilm’ f ra l- 'l‘l. l ‘lip. and
old tiinple llzmil has a ; Hill-:11- n_~,».l-;1W with me,
you lznow.”

".lll>~l as }I)ll lilit‘. .loe; onlv } l‘I-lii'i’“ n-c not
to lollow too tar her make nn {.ltir'h 1.1 i‘eie. you
lint .w their s’i t”‘n;:t 'o."

" Hood eimll‘. Will i. on p‘owilh Ill". Hunger.
and kind o‘ point out. llll Maj» f“ '

Jack readily inn'twl to this proper-mom, and
Ned would have :ieeotiip:tn§eil liin.. l 1': (.nptnin
llardin and Lilly pressed ltim to 3.1% with them
to the ranch. and he consented (lid .loeiind
his party rode away in pursuit nil Mingle liand.
and the captain. l'olimuni hi". it :i. 4:. turned
.‘if.',l'illl to llll‘ south. Lilly Vl'tltt‘. lll\".'l‘l'll bet
father and Ned, cl‘allinj: in a gay l()l'.(' and giV»
in”; an ill‘t'Ulllll/ oi her ttdvi-ntures.

“ Young man." said the captain, " the more
i hear of this all'nii‘ the n-oi‘e] am convinced.
that 3 on linye been of the Li’l‘l‘:tl(‘rd sen icetome,
scelc it) disguise it as you “my, l am not 11
person of many words, but i trust: that. my acts
may speak for me.”

Some inexplicable emotion was visible in the
noble fac:- of Ned (flaytou. He seemed to hesi~
fate to take the hand of (‘iiptain llardin, but,
impelled by a power he could not control, he
struck his hand forcibly into the extended palm
of the captain.

“ Agreed,” he said.
the death.”

 

“ I will be your friend to

"‘VVliy, my young friend, I hope there is _‘

nothing in my face which you do not like.”

“ No, no,” cried Ned, “far from that, but I—
Hea‘vensl if I could only explain to you why I
hesitated. If I only could do that, you would
understand the position in which I am placed.
But, I agreed to stand by you, and I’ll do it,
though the devil stand at the door.”

The captain looked somewhat surprised at the
seemingly unwarrantable heat of the young
man, but said nothing, and the rode on in
silence for some distance when illian broke
the uiet by a merry laug .

“ his is a Quaker meeting; no one . aks um
til the spirit moves,” she cried. “ Wather, I
must ask fyou how you are going to manage its(
that my riends can stay With us always?’

“ Umph!” said the captain. “ Iwill attend in
that, in some way. .You ride well, young man
—excuse me—may I call you by your first
na‘mfi?” all 1 d
‘ ‘ver one c. 8 me Ned” re ic the on -
ster. “ el’hat were you goiiig til) say?” y ng

“ I was going to ask if you could break
horses.”

“ I can do that against any man in Texas,”
replied Ned, eagerly. “You anticipate m
Wish to stay with you, but, understand that
should refuse to stay as a de ndent upon your
bount . Give me work and am your man.”

“I 6 will see what can be done, Ned,” said
the captain, kindly. “Does that satisfy you,
Lilly?’

“Any thing which will keep Ned with us. I
warn you that I shall be exacting, and when I
order you to come, there is nothing for you to
do :but obey, Master Ned.”

“I am your slaw,” said Ned, laughing, and
thoughtlessly adding a quotation from a Latin

poct. Captain Hardin looked at him quickly. L

“You have an education then, my hey?”

Ned blushed as he replied:

“My education is such as may be picked up
from a dissolute man who had it in his power to
make himself a high lace in the nation, but
who by wild excess an a lawless life has made
himself an outcast. Don’t ask me to speak of

that, Captain Hardin. It is a sealed book to . ‘

eve one.” -

“ willnotpress on m ,bo "saidthecu 
“bu Ia’mgylatdgbtuhavefieghgfi

tain, heartily,
cation, for you will enjp

yh
more. I suppose a ‘

.“M

 

   

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fl

5

 

 

Single Hand.

Jught to apologize for liking the ancient poets, i ef I was you, I wouldn’t send that word to Tom

but it isso. That is one of my stock ranches.”

They passed a number of rudely built huts
with a large corral near at hand which was full
of cattle. A number of Mexican half-breeds
were loitering about in the sun, who became in-
tensely active when the horsemen appeared.”

“That is the way the villains act,’ said Har-
 “ I’ve got an overseer who will do any thin
rather than force his countrymen to work, and
it is simply impossible for us to et on together.
Here. Enriquez, where is Pedro onzales?”

“He is at the next horse corral, Senor Cap-
ltano,” replied the man. “Shall I run ahead and
.tell him t iat you are coming?”

“ Oh, no, my good friend. You need not take
all that trouble.’ .

“ N0 trouble at all, senor,” said the man, ea- 4‘

gerly. “I will make haste.’
“ 7011 may stay where on are, Enriquez.
We are riding that way, an will see him our-
Selves.”

The man looked disappointed, and drew back,
with a muttered oath, and the party rode on.
They passed through a ravine between low hills,
and came suddenly u )0!) the horse corral, where
they found the man t iey sought, crouching up-
on the greensward in front of the corral, laying
cards with two disreputable-lookin ru us, in
the rude dress of the prairie. So a sorbed were
they in their game, that they did not hear the
sound of the coming hoofs until the horsemen
were almost 11 ion them.

“ Hip—hurra !” cried one of the strange men.
’“ I’ll have all your share if this thing goes on.
There’s an ace for you, bully boy.”

“ You are having a good game, Pedro,” said
Ca tain Hardin. ‘ Now tell me who these fine
fel ows are, and by what right you are wasting
the time for which I y you?”

Pedro bounded to iis feet, in great astonish-
ment, while the two men uictly a )pro riated
‘the money which lay upon t 10 swani. V as it a
mistake, or was there something in their manner
which showed that they were not unknown to
Ned Clayton? They seemed to look him over as
a stranger, it is true; yet in the mind of Lilly
there was a half-formed thought that they re—

' ‘ cognizml him.

“ Don’t get wrathy, captain,” said one of the
men. " You see, we’ve come in from the Santa
Fe trail, and the greascr wanted a game, and
we thought we’d humor him. No offense, I
hope 3”

“ I don't allow men to hang about my corrals
who can not give a good account of them-
selves ”

“ We was thinking to join the rangers, cap—
tain " said the man.

“ t seems to me that, for men that have just
come from the Santa Fe trail, you know a great
deal about us here.”

“Lord love you, captain, do you s'uose that
*there is a man in Texas that don’t mow the
Rangers of the Rio! We want to jine, and kin
fight, too,” added the other man.

“ No one joins my company who is not vouch-
ed for by some of the members. If you can find
any rangers who will say that you are good and
true men, you can come in.”

“But, captain, ain’t that a little hard? We
are strangers to your men—”

“ Then 'I don‘t want you, boys. Live around
.herea year, and let me see that you are the
right sort, and We. will take you in. ’

‘ You seem mighty particular,” said the man,
with a covert sneer. “ Come, Jini, get the
horses and let’s toddle.”

“lVait a moment,” said Hardin, who was
looking at them sharply. “ Do you happen to
kn0w a man named l‘om Duke?’

The fellow started, but recovered himself in-
stantly, with a look of surprise on his face.

“ Do you say Duke, captain?”

H Yes 7’

“I can’t say I know him, captain. I have

" “ heerd that he is a mighty hard man and makes

.a heap of trouble round here, but I don’t know
him.’

“He is suspected of bein in league with the
horse-thieves who infest t is section. If ou
should meet him, say to him that Ca tain ar-
dm, of the Rio Rangers, will hang ' before
the ear is up.”

“ ain’t likely to meet him, Ca ,” said the fel-
low, With a furtive glance at t e immovable
face of Ned Clayton; “but if I do, I’ll be sure
to tell him what on say. He’s got heaps of
friends in Texas, ye heerd.”

“He has many accom lices, some of them
Thigh in power. They ste negroes and horses,
and have been holding high carnival in Texas,
but I’ll have them yet.”

' " I wouldn’t be surprised if you did, Cap, but

Duke.”

“ And why not?”

“ Because such a thing mout ha pen as for him
to ketch you, and likely he’d ma e it warm for
you. Hvar’s our bosses. Good-by, Cap—I wish
you’d take us in the rangers?”

Hardin shook his head and they rode away
at a sound pace, never looking behind them, and
the captain turned upon his overseer, who was
waiting for his share of the captain’s anger.

“ N ow, Pedro, it is your turn. You know who
these scoundrels are, and I must know, too.”

“ Pardon, Senor Capitano,” said the man, sul-
lenly, “but I know nothing about them.”

He was adark-faced fellow, in the gaudy dress
of the Mexican of middle rank, rather fine-look-
ing, but with an evil eye.

‘That is as much as to sa that on won’t
,tell me who the men are, eh? e wil see about
that, by-and-b . In the meantime, I am going
to put you to t e test, and see whether you are
as 00d 3. horse-breaker as you claim to be.
Here, half a dozen of you go and bring out
that bucking phenomenon—the black with the
star mark.”

“ What are on going to ask me to do, capi-
tano?” said P re.

“You are going to ride him. If you do it, all
right; I will give you a place still. If you fail,
I want another breaker. ’

Half a dozen greasers came out of a small
corral, leading a magnificent sixteen-hand black,
with a wicked eye. He had suffered them to
put the saddle and bridle on him, and seemed to
await developments.

“ Can you ride that horse, Ned?” whispered
Lillian.

“ I can ride any horse,” replied Ned, calmly.
“ Set the greaser at work, captain."

“Ride him,” said the captain, pomting to the
horse. “ You knew what it means if you fail.”

CHAPTER V.
HORSE-BREAKING—THE COLPORTEUR.

IT was evident that the fellow did not like the
job. The Mexicans are good riders—perhaps,
as a class, the best in the world, and he had
been trained in the saddle from boyhood; but
there was something too meek and humble about
this animal, which he did not like. Such an—
gelic quietude meant mischief, and the man ap-
proached the horse slewly from in front. The
animal began to swing slowly around, as if up-

hecls to the enemy, but never offering to kick,
because he knew that this would be powder
wasted while the Mexican kept so far out of
reach.

Pedro hissed out a lurid Mexican oath and ran
in, and before the horse could strike, he was in
the saddle.

The horse gave one frantic leap, which sent

 

. air like a thunderbolt, and t en settled down

upon his feet again with indescribable meek- I
1 to begin a new life.” . ‘

; ness upon his front. Pedro rolled over twice
l before he could recover himself, and made a
curious floure; but he was on his feet in an in-
stant, and again in the saddle, and actually got
one foot in the stirrup before the horse could
“ kick” again.

But this only brought out new tactics in this
versatile beast. Dal-ting suddenly forward at
full speed for twenty yards, he stopped as sud—
denl , planted his fore-feet and lowered his
beau . Away went Pedro out of the saddle,
alighting upon his head and shoulders with
stunning force.

The horse was now literally wild. Strikin
right and left at all who 0 )posed him, he rush
furiously at the prostrate exican, and it would
have fared badly with him but that Ned Clay-
ton bounded from the saddle and stopped him in
full career, and, to the surprised of all, the

oungster was in the saddle and firmly seated
hifore the horse could do any thing to battle
in.

“ Clear the we. , all of you ” cried Ned, wav-
in his hand. “ ll break or kill him, one or the
ot er. Back, I say 1”

The Mexicans willin 1y stood aide, and a
battle royal now began tween man and horse.
The mustan and half-bred horse of Texas is in-
imitable in t 6 trick of “ bucking.” That is, he
will leap into the air at least two feet and come
down with his legs stiff, 'vinfg the rider a shock
which will either unseat Iiim rom the saddle, or
give him a blow that will half stun him.

This ticulai‘ horse was an adept in the ex-
ercise; ut Ned was upto the trick, and the mo-
ment the horse began to “ buck,” he slipped his
feet out of the stirru and fastened his spurs
in the heavy saddle-c 0th. As the horse leaped,

 

 

on a pivot, always presenting those threatening ,

the Mexican flying out into space, clearing the ,

 

he would rise a little in the saddle, and come
down easil when the animal struck the ground,
with a smi e on his face.

“ He’ll get sick of that exercise after a while,”
said the oung man, as the horse bucked a ain.

After ucking three or four times wit out
avail, the horse stopped and seemed to hesitate
before trying a new trick. Then he darted out
as before, and tried to dispossess himself of his
obstinate rider, but Ned was on the watch and
kept his equilibrium b leanin back in the sad-
dle. U to this time ed kept the snaffle
and h not attempted to use thecurb, but took -
it up now as the horse showed a disposition to
rear.

The Mexicanbit is a cruel thing, and a heavy ,
hand u n a curb will quickly cure the most ob-
stinate orse of rearing. With the curb in his
left hand, Ned lifted his heavy riding-whip, and
began to rain blow after blow upon the wild '
steed. A inand and again he tried to rear;
but kept own by the iron hand 11 n the curb
it was of no avail. Then he tri the last of
his accomplishments—falling suddenly to the '
ground, and endeavoring to roll upon his rider.

As he fell, Lillian uttered a cry of fear, but
her alarm was dispelled as she nw that Ned had ‘
cleared his feet from the cloth, and was stand- '
ing over the horse, laughin . The animal
loam-pp again, but only to fin his rider fixed
as y as ever upon his back. Then Ned sent
the spurs into the sides of the now wild horse,
and started him at a furious run across the
plain, and out of sight behind the horse corral.

Five minutes passed, when the thunder of
hoofs was heard again and Ned came back at a
mad gallop, his rowe 5 red with gore, and the
foam fleckin the sides of the con uered beast.
He was sitting easilv in the sadd e. no lo a‘
using whip or spur, and holding the snaflile ' t-
ly in his hand.

To show them that he was completely success-
ful, he put the horse through his paces, making ,
him trot, cantor or 1gallop at will, and then ‘
brou ht him back to t e astonished party.

“ ere he is captain,” he said. “ fter I have
trained him to stand the flapping of a woman’s
riding-habit, your daughter can ride him with
safety, but he is the beau ideal of a ranger’s
horse.” '

“He is yours, Ned,” replied the captain.
“The man who has conquered him has the best

——__““

 

 

, right to own him.”

‘éBut, captain, he is a very valuable animal, '
an _”

“ You won’t refuse him if 1 give him to you ”
said Lillian. “You must take him, or I shall

, think you do not care to have saved in ' life.”

“I accept,” said Ned, hanging his cad; “I

, am not worthy to accept favors from you, or'

any other good man or woman, but I will be; I
wi l labor to make myself better, and to—day be-
gin a new life.” ' i
“ Verily, the young man rides like unto a.
warrior of old times.” said a snuffling voice; 9
“and it does my heart good to hear him promise "

They all turned in surprise and looked at th v
speaker. He was a tall, high-shouldered man
mounted upon a sorry-looking Mexican “plug.‘
with huge saddle-bags, stuffed to repletion on ,
each side. 5

His face was like that of one of Cromwell’s
hard riders, and his lon flaxen hair hung uncut .
to his shoulders. The p ainly—cut black clothes, ‘
the huge saddle-bags and sanctified air, bespoke
one of the colporteurs who traveled over the
new States and Territories in their earlier

da s.

N ed looked at him in astonishment, and for a.
moment seemed absolutely horrified; but recov-
ered himself in a moment. 3

“Ah,” said Captain Hardin. “A colporteur,
I presume.”

. “ I am an unworthy member of the fold, seek-
ihg to pluck the brands from the burnin . ’

‘ Well you’ve got a good field 0 labor
here, sir, ’ said Hardin, sniiling slight] . “The
boys shall listen to you; I promise the. much at
the least. Ifyouwfll go on half a mile you will
find my ranch, and are welcome to make it
yournhead-quarters while you stay in this sec-

on.

The col rteur rode on after giving 1:
and H looked after him disapprovingly.

“I don’t like his looks,” he said. “ I have en-
tertained many of these men in my time, and
most of them were noblehearted gentlemen,
who had given their lives to a eat and labori-
ous work, but this fellow looks ' e a hypocrite.
What is your opinion of him, Ned?”

Clayton started, for he had been wrapped in
deeg thought.

“ —did you speak to me?” be filtered. A

  
 
   
   
    
      
   
  
  
   
   
   
    
  
   
 
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
  
   
  
   
      
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
    
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
   
    
   
   
       
     
    
    
  
    
    
    
     
    
   
     
       
     
     
     
       
       
       
       
     
   

   
 

 

1.3.:
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Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

 

“ I asked you what you thought of the colpor—
tour?”

“A hypocrite l” replied Ned. “A wolf in
sheep’s clothing. Better trust the most treach-
erous Mexican on earth than that man.”

“ You only speak my own thoughts, Ned. Pe-
dro Gonzalez, have no further need of your
services, as Mr. Edward Clayton will act as my
overseer. You can go.”

“I am to be su rseded by this cursed Ameri-
can there?” hi Pedro.

“ You heard what I said? You have already
taken up a month’s pay in advance, but that
you may not go out penniless there are two
doubloons. Let us part good friends, but our
mOCiates are bad, and I will have no man a ut
me whom I cannot trust.”

“I will have your heart’s blood for this,
young sir,” himed Pedro, coming close to Ned.

‘ Bear that in mind.”

“ Pshaw,” replied Ned.
or I will be] you.”

But the exican planted himself in the road
and heaped a torrent of invective upon the
young man, who stood it for some moments

“ Get out of my way

calmly.

“Once for all,” he said a(li‘uietly, “will on get
out of my road? Hal T ethatl Pick ’ up,
“Egg; 1' 'th dustl ki

m was ymg in e , 00 n u
out of a very black e e. He had miscalcufiteg
the musclar power 0 Ned Clayton, and a Mexi-
can has a great respect for muscle. Again be
rushed in, and was once more deposited upon
mother earth. When he arose this time it was
with a knife in his hand. Captain Hardin drew
a pistol, but there was no need to use it for Ned
rushed in wrenched the knife from the Mexi-
can’s han , and snatching u a riding-whip, be-
labored him until he yelled or mercy. '

“There, greaser, take care how you draw a
knife on me again for the next time it won’t be
a whip I use. Very sorry that this thing has
upmed, captain.”

k you, Pedro,” said Hardin, “I 've you
prairie law: three days’ run, and if a ter that
we find you in this section, you know what to
exggct. Now go; don’t waste time.”

e of his exican friends brought out his
horse, and Pedro mounted, and the malevolent
look upon his face promised revenge if it was
ever in his power. The rest rode awa down
the road, and soon came in sight of ardin’s
Ranch. It stood upon the river in the midst of
a beautiful country and every thing showed
signs of .thrifty husbandry. The long, low,
rambling buildings with white walls gleaming
amid the trees; the rare southern plants, and the
Soups of black servants, were peculiar charac—

ristics of the Texan ranchero of wealth.

“ That is my home,” said Lillian. “ Is it not
beautiful, Ned!”

“ It is, indeed,” replied the young horse-
tamer. “To a homeless outcast, one who has
lived a wandering life, and can not even remem-
ber his father’s face, such a home as that would
bea dream of Arcadia.”

, “It is to be your home,” said Lillian, warmly.
“Did you not ear me say that you are never
to leave us, sir? And do you dare rebel thus
earlv in the day ?”

“My daughter is right, my dear Ned,” said
the captain. “ I never had a son and if I can
sup 1y a parent’s lace to you I shall be happy.
An as for my wi e—run in and see her, Li 1y.”

The girl sprung from the saddle and ran
into the hall and they heard a glad cry of joy
from within.

“I can’t see our wife now.” said Ned, hur-
riedly. “She oves her daughter so well that
she will be inclined to give me greater credit
than I deserve for my share in to-day’s busi—
ness.”

“ Not a bit of it. My wife is an angel, my
boy, far better than a rough old ranger deserves,
bit I hope my great love for her is something.
Boy, you know where to o. Pomp, come here
and take this gentleman’s orse; and remember,
sir, that you are to obey him in every thing as
you obey me.”

“ Ki!” said the Negro, taking the bridle. “ I
hear ye, marse, but I’se so tickled ’cause you
t’ink we nimras can ’bey any one same as we
does you. '!”

“Get out, you sooty imp,” said the captain,
striding into the hall. “ Come along, Ned;
make. ourself at home.” .

As t ey came into a long, low Sitting-room, a
lady who was sitting upon a low chair fond-
ling her daughter’s golden hair, arose and came
toward them.

“”You have saved my daughter’s life, sir-—

_She stopped suddenly and stooping, kissed

 

him fondly. Ned Clayton started and the tears
rushed into his eyes. Remember that he had
said that he had pamed a lonely boyhood with-
out a mother’s love to help him, and that he was
a young man of strong affections. He tried to
speeak, and dashed his hand across his eyes to
c ar them.

“I can’t stand this, madam. If you only
knew what a life I have led ou would not kiss
me; but if you will aid me, y the help of God
I will redeem all that.”

“ Do on think I cannon read your face, dear
boy?” 8 c said. “ You need companionship—-
friends, who will aid you in the right, and you
shall have them. Thank you for bringing inns}
James; I have two children now.”

She led him to a seat beside her upon a sofa
and began to talk with him kindly, and draw
from him something of his past hfe. An out-
cast boy, he had been picked up in the streets of
New Orleans by a man whom he did not name
—a person of rare ability, but whom excess and

ion had led astray. The man had made
m a companion and treated him as a son, but
through it all, the good in the boy’s nature had
rebelled against him and his life.

“ And, madam,” said Ned, “if I am not whol-
ly bad, it is not his fault. I think in.his wild
way he loved me. There was no wish I could
express which he would not gratif . And he is
a man, too; reckless of his ife, grave to des-
peration and the handsomest man I ever saw.”

“ How like Duke Elwood, James!” said Mrs.
Hardin. “ I wonder where he is now?”

“ N o matter,” replied thelca tain. “ It is bet-
ter that we should never mee , for, of all men,
I would not stand opposed to him. I have made
Edwin my overseer Mar ret, and he takes
char 6 to-morrow. I’edro as been dismissed.”

“ ed dismissed him,” said Lilly, with asly
lau h; at which Ned hung his head and looked

icularly foolish.

“The Wlld life will crop out, Mrs. Hardin,”
he said. “The man behaved very badly, and

80—”
ing right be-

“He gave him a dreadful fl
fore me. Butlliked it; I always 1 ea face, you
know, mother dear, and Ned looked so stron
and manly when he was flogging that rasca.
Oh it was good I”

62 Lilly!”

“Yes, I do like it—I do—I do! And then
when I was hiding in that hole in the rocks, and
Ned and Jack—you don’t know Jack yet, but
he is a dear good fellow, and must be in the
rangers—were fl hting the Indians, if Ihad only
had a n I we (1 have fou ht too.”

“ I on’t know what to 0 with this child,”
said Mrs. Hardin. “You have infected her,
James.”

“ Oh, it is brave to be a man and fl ht!” cried
Lilly, clenching her hand. “ I envy t e rangers
every time I see them go out n on the trail and
want to be with them, ever so ad.”

“ It is not go to encoura re this evil disposi-
tion in your child, madam,’ said the snutfiing
voice of the col orteur at the door. “Verin she
taketli delight in blood.”

“If you will be so kind as to 0 back to the
dining-room, I will see you direct y,” said Har—
din, poiiitelly. “ At present I am outraged.”

The man went back with a strange Took upon
his face.

“ Now mark what I say,” said Mrs. Hardin
excitedly. “That is a bad man and I do not
believe he is a colporteur at all.”

“Ned and myself have n ced that he is not
of the right sort” re lied t 0 ca tain. “If he
turns out badly let him look out or the rangers,

that is all. I will go and talk to him

 

CHAPTEP VI.
THE DISGUISED OUTLAW.

THE evening was iassed )leasantly enough at
Hardin’s Ranch. he co porl'our had retired
early, afteiitreating them to along chapter from
the Old Testament, which he read with a draw]—
ing. snnctimonious air which was trying. From
time to time he looked hard at Ned ' but the
youn man seemed to avoid his glance, and stu-
dious. y looked in anotlu direction. It was
quite ate when Captain I ardin took a lam and
lighted his new overseer to his room, whic was
a very leasant one in the south-west angle of
the bui ding; the furniture was arranged with a
neatness which bespoke feminine care and taste.

“ Now make yourself at home, my boy,” said
Hardin, as he put the lamp, on a table. “ I
don’t care what you have been or what you
have done if you only mean to do right now;
but,’it will be hard to make me believe you have
ever done any thing very bad,”

 

 

A fir I'

“You are too kind to me,” said Ned, in a chok—
ing voice. “ Do you know that I could d'n for
you and yours?”

“ There, Ned, say no more about it. I wish
you good rest and pleasant dreams.”

His step had scarcely ceased to sound alon
the passage when a door Which communicated
with the next room was pushed gently open and
the colporteur came into the room and closing.
the door dropped into a chair and laughed in a
itranlge, silent way, seeming to enjoy himself

e y.
ugh; is as good as a play, Ned; upon my word‘ 1
it is,” he whispered. “I would not have lost ‘
w chance for a thousand dollars. How did
do it?”

“ You overdid it,” repnlbd the youn man, in
a dogged tone, seating 'mself upon t e edge of
the bed. “ Now, I want to know what you are
doin here?”

“ thought it was plain enough for your com-
prehension,” replied the other, ceasing to laugh
at once. “ I thought you knew me and was:
aware that I trust no man too far, or too long.
I knew that you went into this work unwillin -
ly and wished to satisfy myself that you co (1
be trusted.”

“ Are you satisfied?” replied Ned, in the same
sullen tone.

“Listen to me, you you hound,” hissed then
colporteur, coming forwar suddenly and grnfi
ing the boy b the arm. “Have you nothing
thank,me for have I ever wronged you in any

we .V’

I I know what you mean,” replied the boy.
“ Yodtook me out of the gutter and made what:

on call a man of me. ut, in what a school
ave I been taught! To lie in ambush—to steal

into the affections of those whom you design to:
make your victims—to act as your stool-pi eoni
——it makes me half mad when think of it!

“You are bound to me by an oath which you!
dare not break, Ned Clayton! Enough of talk;
I sent you here with an object in view. Have
you done what I told you?’

“I am alread upon a familiar footin in this.
famil , but, as live, I will not betray t em.”

“ on don’t know what you’re saying, Ned,”
said the colporteur, quietly. “ If you persist in
that it is my duty to see that you are placed be—
yond the possibility of doing us a wrong. I
think you would do well to reflect calmly upon
what you have said.”

“I have made u ~my mind fully,” replied} ‘"

young Clayton. “ on talk of dooming me to
death, do you? How would it answer if I gave:
you up to Captain Hardin and his rangers, tell-v
mghim who and what you are?”

he man shivered \slightly, and a look of fear
crossed his face for a moment but passed away
immediatel .

“Bah! what a fool Iain getting to be in in
old age,” said the colporteur, laughin . “
know tyou too well to think that you won (I take-
an lm air advantage of any man, much less of
one who has been your friend. New listen to'
me. Suppose yourself in the place of a man who
is young, rich and honored. Sn )pose that this
man has a friend who owes much to him and in»
whom he puts implicit faith, and that friend be~
trays him in the most dastardly manner and u -
on a point of the most tender kind. What won (I.
that false friend deserve?”

“ Death—but in a fair fight, man to man,” re-
plied Ned.

“But, suppose that he, sneaking behind the
plea that he is not a duclist, refuses the satisfaic~
tion due a gentleman, and having put it out of
the lOVVCI' of his former friend ever to hold up
his icad again, marries the woman that man
has chosen, and laughs at the poor wretch when
he writhes in agony. What is such a man as
that?”

“A villain, if the tale is true.”

“Years pass and each has lost track of the
other, when the disgraced man comes to Texas.
He is an outlaw-—the hand. of every man is
against him, and he hopes in this new land to
find a home. He has long ago ceased to be hon--'
est; his is the old law:

‘ They shall take who have the power,
And t ey shall keep who can. L

He breaks the unwritten law of Texas, and a
band of men are organized to hunt him down.
Who is at their head? This same false friend .
who has so wronng him. He is rich; the wo-
man who was to have married his friend loves,
him, and the friendlcss outcast sees her still;
young and beautiful—all the devils in hell! 1
shall go mad.” \\

“Be careful; you are talking too loud and:
they will hear you.” ' b
“ I am the manso bounded and persecuted,‘

I

‘

 

 

4..-.“ -

 

 

 

tug-“ .____

 

kissed the colporteur “ and the man who wrong-
ed me is—Captain ardin.”

“ I do not believe it,” said Ned, fiercely. “ No
man dare look in James Hardin’s face and call
him a villain.”

“But I tell you that it is true,” replied the
dher, in a hoarse voice. “ It is true as gospel,
and I have sworn never to rest until his head is
brought as low as mine; and if one of those
whom I have chosen to aid me dares to rebel, if
he were of my own blood I would kill him.
Now you understand why I hate James Hardin,
and why I will follow him to the death.”

“ What do you intend to do?”

“ To make his life a burden to him, as mine

has been to me. Heap sorrow u n sorrow,
misery u n misery, until he w pray for
death. 0 rob hinfof all he holds dear upon

earth little by little, and you shall aid me."
“ Never!” replied Ned, boldly. “Until this
hour I never knew your heart, and I fling to the
_ winds your vile oaths. I am no longer one of
‘f your men, and I defy you to do your worst.”
The col rteur thrust his hand into his bosom,
. and the right barrel of a pistol showed for a
t moment; but Ned was as prompt as he, and a
. wea n gleamed in his hand.
' “  ls child’s play, captain ” said he. “ You
. will have to mar out a fresh trail, now that
you have me to deal with.”
“I have loved and trusted you,” was the re-
N ply, “ and you turn against me for the sake of a
man I hate. Ned Cla ton you will live to re-
mnt this hour, bitter y, bitterly. There, let
g ere be a truce between us. Put up your
wegpon, for I promise not to harm you to-
. h,
.; mfiled replaced his pistol, for it was evident that
“ man meant 'ust what he said.
“ I trust you,’ he said; “ but be so good as to
‘ bear in mind that I am as quick on the trigger
as you are, and quite as reac to call in the aid
of powder and ball. Now t en, explain your-
self 7’

. “The explanation must come from you,” re-
plied the colporteur. “You were sent here

i upon an errand in the interest of the band. I

ask ou now if on intend to do your duty ?”

“ ot if my uty points to the destruction of
this 00d family,” replied Ned, boldly.

“ ou know the penalty of disobedience.”

“ You must catch afox before you skin him,”
was the laughing reply. “ Let me tell you that
I have friends more powerful than you evor
were, and can trust them. As for you—all your
teachings, from first to last, have been evil; I
have stru gled against them, but for years they
have hel me. I throw off forever the unholy
bar ain, and will lead a new life.”

“ urn reacher, eh?” sneered the colporteur,
“You wi make a capital one, upon my word.
Do you know that if you permst in this, your
doom is sealed?” ‘

“ I will take my chances of life or death. All
I ask of you is to let me alone in the life wllich
I have marked out for myself, and I give '011
my word that I will never trouble you. ill
you do this?”

“1 make no terms with you, youn traitor,"
re lied the other, fiercely. “'I‘here— nave said

I need to say upon the subject; but be sure
or this—you have not a Week to live. ”

“ You must leave this house in the morning,
and never let illC  voll here again,” cried Ned.
" Do you understanl that?”

“ 1 shall leave it when I see fit,” was the re-
ply. "I do not believe that you are coward
enough to betray all.) to my enemies after I have
put faith ill you.”

“ As long as you keep quiet, do not attempt to
oonlzllznliczttc with your men, or in any way 
tray this family, you lll'<‘ Welcome to 532-. I: out.

on must remain under my eye 4;! an

'me.”

Them an laughed—a low, ficrcn laugh, which
had a World of impairingw in it. .1 id swinging
Open the duo: of his own circlzilqr. stomped i1“
and clos-ll the door behind him. There Rvast
bolt upon the .l )or, and 1this Ned shot into the
s chet before he lay down to rest.

He remained awake until he was satisfied that
the colporteur had retired, and then dropped
asleep. The luau in the next room l‘e!!l-Llll"(l

'quiet for about an hour, and then arose and lis-

g‘ tened at the door.

The deep brcaiiing of the young man con-
vinoed him that the boy was asleep, and put! ing
off his shoe 4, he stole cautiously to the door
which Opened llll‘r.) the hall, and looked out.

"‘ I would cut that 'oung tl‘aitor’s threat from
ear to car if icoult get at him,” he muttered.
“Ten thousand fiends! To think that he should
turn against me, of all men! I wonder if he
he. roped in J ack? Two of my best men gone,

 

 

 

Single Hand.

'7.

 

if he has and at a moment when I need them
worst. Now for business.”

His eyes had not been idle during the day, and
he knew the sleeping-apartment of every per-
son in the house. J ust as he crossed the hall,
he saw a glimmering light at the other end, ap-
proaching the place where he stood, and had just
time to see that it was Lillian, alone, and carry-
ing a lighted lamp in her hand, before he hur-
ried into a room on the right, which he knew
was occupied b the girl.

He had just ime to conceal himself behind a
closet-door, when she came in. humming a mer—
ry song, and placing the lamp upon a table, be-
gan to take down and comb her beautiful hair,
before retiring. There was something ill the in-
nocent grace of this sweet child which held him
5 ll-bound, and he hesitated long before he
( ared carry out his desi ; but all chance of re-
treat was cut elf when s e approached the closet
for some article which it contained. This was
his opportunity.

He seized her so suddenly, that before she had
time to utter a cry she lay helpless in his strong
g , with a istol pointed at her head.

r5i‘sgeware!” e hissed: “the least outcry will
be your death, and the death of any who comes
to your aid.”

Lilly would not have heeded the first part of
the threat, but she feared for the safety of those
she loved, and While she hesitated, a, gag was
thrust into her mouth which at it out of her

wer to cry out if she had n so inclined.

er hands were tightly bound behind her, and
the villain arose With a triumphant look upon
his face. '

“ So far, good,” he muttered. “ This is but the
beginning of my vengeance. I will wring their
hearts as they have tortured mine.”

He stopped and listened. The house was now
still as death, and he looked quickly about the
chamber. It was upon the ground floor. open-
ing toward the prairie, and was lighted by two
large windows, one of which was open. He
stepped to the window and looked out across
the prairie, his lips movin in a strange, hurried
way. as if in invocation. is hands opened and
close ‘ convulsively, and the foam showed itself
upon ; is thin lips.

“This girl is her mother in miniature,” he
muttered. “They love her beyond any thing
on earth. I know that from what they said to

‘Ned Clayton when he brought her home, and I

could notaim a blow more directly at their
hearts.”

He pushed the window a little higher 11 , and,
as it rattled slightly, he stooped quickly and
shrunk out of sight in the shadow of the wall,
and waited to see if the noise had awakened
an one. Not a sound was heard, and he lifted
Lill in his arms and stepped out of the window.
He had hardly done so, w ell two men appeared
from behind the horse corral, one of thonl lead-
ing a spare horse.

‘I’ve got the girl, my lads,” he whispered.

“ Here, take her, Bennett.”

’ The mall addressed, who was one of those who
had been playing cards with l’edro that lllOl‘ll-
ing, raised the girl ill his arms. Av. he did so,
the ag fell from her lllouth, and t~lli¥11tl‘01‘(‘(l
shrie after shriek, which rung out in the silent
ni~ht.

“ The cursed cat!” «mounted the colportour,
matching the brilfo of" the led lion-'0 n=~dsplill,;-
‘ into the saddle. “ Rule for Your Fivws. mun,
I'II 0! Stop her sxpluxrltillg. Bennett your hand
is broad enough.” '

Even us he spoke the? darted at?" 
or the moth  pr: and l mid upon t2:  ...r.,.: :ml
nostrils of their fair prisoner. Light-t ii: ME :1
Wic‘ous parts of the house, and in : H
sh  space of time they Laird the r-u.
lralf.“ ir clow, pursuit.

(no Emmi

  

“By all the Ilovils, they are after 1 ‘ '~ i ';.
"(1 the S lportoilr. “ W hip and We! '. 1
soul" (J '3 yolu' bowies if the sage}. - . w;
6; (1‘23". H ‘

They 10“ mm. but they cme w ".- ~l:3' i
that illc 1:11;. ‘1‘» were ;'1:ll\ill{l{  M l ‘;=~_\’

were admirably mou‘ltml. The c! - 3' .13
his hellil‘ 1n awe-it und listmlwi ix. 2
“llniy o 1." them. and on v i
other bolli .3 '13 said. " 
whoever you  {:0 ("il'ct'ui ;'
I'izlc too t'n:-t, 1?" 1 Hill" brill; yr
Bulllva'bb, 1‘. ‘n we to fight. 1'3
girl. and r ' Mr that 1' \nm‘ ‘
found "lie-r lilan alive. l’ mt
kc.» ) her j, A ril now what to do."
hey dasm; z‘o together for ~ -

and one of 1h.- v~v:r::uing horsemen
iv uxnl tho

“ ide o " said the colpo
know where to a. ;-;.- her. Follmv r..-

 

 

I
'  | r" at my companions: \H‘J"
, I a». rotdaraioilii \""ll. ‘3

 

He Wheeled and rode back, and soon found
himself face to face with Ned Clayton, riglg
the black mustang which he had tamed. Vt '
out exchanging a word, both leveled their wea-
pons and tired.

 

CHAPTER VII.
A STRUGGLE FOR. LIFE.

BOTH were adepts in the use of the pistol, and
only an accident saved the life of the colporteur.
His horse stumbled and fell upon his knees, as he
pulled the trigger, and his bullet flew wide of
the mark, while that of Ned Clayton passed ,
over the spot where his head was a momentber .
fore. Unfortunately for Davidson, he was in "‘
the line of the bullet and was shot through the
throat, and fell to the earth v ith an inarticulate
cry of pain. The quick hand of the colporteur
brou rht his horse to his feet, but not in time to
avoi the rush of Ned Clayton. There was but
one way, and dropping his rein, he caught the
young man b the shoulders, and, as the horses.
rushed on, be men fell from the saddle, locked
in a close grapple.

“ Devil!’ hissed the colporteur, “we will try-
our strength.”

“I am you man!” replied Ned. “ Coward,.
must ou strike at a weak girl? I will teach
you a esson.”

Neither spoke after that and adesperate strug-
gle began. Twice had ed Clayton freed one
hand long enough to dash it into the face of his
antagonist, which was quickly bathed in blood,
but he was a determined villain, and these blews.
only seemed to arouse the innate ferocity of his
nature. Again Ned freed his hand, but, instead.-
of striking, grasped his enemy by the throat and
closed his strong hand with a fierce encrg a
gripe which could not be shaken off. The
seoundrel would have drawn a knife, but his
strength was fast leaving him and he could on}
make feeble clutches at the iron hand upon his
throat. Ever ' thing grew dark about him, a
mist swam fore his eyes, when he heard
the seat of boots, and Ca tain Hardin rode. u .

“ Don’t kill hinl. don’tk' 1 him, Ned,” he crieg,
eagerly. “' We may need him et.”

‘ J unlp down and tie him. then,” replied N ed.
“This is no baby I am holdhg, but a deadly
enemy.”

Captain Hardin had tied up many prisoners
in his day, and his work Was (4115 My and artisti-
cal lyi‘ done.

“ hat will do, captain. New hc‘p we to
lay him ill the shadow of the bushes. find we
Wlll follow the other, who has carried Lilly
away.”

While speakimr he had knotted a handker-
chief about the leade of a bowie, forming a
gag of the handle which he thrust into the
mouth of the coi‘porteur and tied a: the back of
his head. This done, he sprung,r up and assist-
ed the captain Ln laying their prisoner under
the lms‘lles

“ If a 'agunr should happen along, it would be
a good thing for the world," he said. “ Mount
and :l\'» 21y, captain. I am ui‘roid this fight has
given the other too much start.”

“ I thought there wrre tlll‘ccr” said the cap—
tillll.

Nod pointed to the form of Davidson stretch-
m‘. Upon the pr: iris. but will mt a word. ind
1‘ tll'llillg‘; their llill“. e57 lll'tltl.‘ hv lilt‘ (Y‘T‘CI‘ka tnm‘ll
I: lit llllctt. [ix-V rode on it r ,4: l’Io‘ miles M the
b p of their and, and l‘.1"."'l' :Izn hem-(l Will
they l‘t‘ilt'llt‘tl the edge 01 a girl my (‘ll1.1,.l’l'itl,
lil'lny miles in (’X‘U‘lit.

"1 iv. led thr'. raisin." é'ni'i Ned, (lrnwmg
bridle. " ll)" u. :1 («ch “11> l.“.""'il to the {III} lar-
Jill and to loliow him int-1 it now \‘ul‘lil be
\‘.t)‘§1(- K Bo»; :51. it‘ has 1rierals

 

    
   

than llililllli . . .

l 2:;1' airway, ailJ we nut-z :idc hard to agar-ape

. , H

in Vim.

“ But my danght: r. Ni -_l: my darling Lilly.

.‘iuutl leave her in -‘l.H M- r or these Villains?”
‘ Til") MIL", mi“ N -‘  l'llt‘ tl‘l' :‘lllllxle

 

ll‘lwwll mm \M ~‘su ll «3 t.in ll‘. on: llhlulfi,
W lull lrlttl l  l l uli \uul'c Lilli."
] “ ll.) "H'l. lrlclzzl Lili‘ col, ' '.= dd”
‘ No morn u (‘ull'l liruc um { :‘ln. :-?though

1 , .
, la" plnvcd the [\fll \ <-.l.

1'4321; Ul(ll'(‘ llbl‘ ices
.n the ( (alt-b ‘ '

(m l u ire.  worst in rac-

,5 fold you i ‘ fore

'. l ‘wllf'i'i, annual; I
.

b. s
s

 
  

{i‘l pleas

. \ .,,.‘. . ., ‘.v,,.. _ AL _ I
WM) J.“ km,“ loci. . u .m or {fair-

 
 

‘ {am sorry to s'l-y tlw '  l / t. captain. ]
hrld Ill'lli to In» \i .:..~.v-.l--T<hw 0x-
wns. although l 1.1:, -:‘.;: gym, in

:uliall lights. The l'zn; This ' T llzuir
uncle: from me as law L‘ :..~. log-ii c. and

~:: only the other day. i., :4 iii: of deepmativm

 

 

6

 

 

 

that I joined them in earnest. If you fearto
trust me I will leave you.”

“I have told you before that I am willing to
trust you, my dear boy; I believe that you will
be true as steel, but 1 fear that you put your
life in den er.”

" As to t int 1 do not care a pin. I am ready
to mcel the danger at any time if you trust me.
Vv'ill you in kc my advice then?” ‘

“ Let me hear what you have to say,” replied
the captain.

“ Let us ride. back and take up the risoner
and carry him to j-foui' house. Then ca 1 in the
rangers ail-.1 givo him in charge and let me go
to Duke‘s camp and offer him in exchange for
Lilly.”

“You would not dare to do that.”

“ Try inc, and see how much ,I dare. do for
your sake and Lilly’s. They won’t dare to harm
me while you hold the captain.”

“I think you are right: lead the way.” The
turned and rode back at the same pace at whic 1
they had come, and had nearly reached the

lace where they had left their )risoner, when

hey saw a number of shadowy gures rrou d
upon the prairie near the scene of t e ate
skuggle. They were gathered about the body
of Davidson and seeine to be in doubt as to who
had killed him. Ned caught Hardin’s horse by
the bridle and forced him back.

“ Indians!” he hissed; “turn back, and get
out of ran e.”

The fol back in silence, and placed a clump
of tim r between themselves and the enemy,
and from this point watched their motions.
As they gazed they heard the charging cheer of
the rangers and saw that the savage band were
leaping confusedly into the saddle to meet a
sudden onslaught.

“ Hurrah!” cried Ned. “ It is Single Hand
and his men, and the rangers are at them. Come
m!”

Captain Hardin was as eager for the fray as
Ned, and, urging their horses, they lunged at
once into the thickest of the fl ht. ’ he contest
was not of long duration, for t 6 Indians scat-
ured over the plain with the rangers in hot pur-
suit. Ned Cla )n singled out the 'gantic
chief and attac ed him with knife and atchet,
[lit the wily chief saw that his men were scat—
tering, and, drawing suddenly back, he thrust
it's long s ar through the neck of Ned’s horse,
bringing im to the ground, and then, wheeling
:piekly, darted away across the plain. Hardin
with his bugle recalled the rangers from the
pursuit, and they came back sullenly and picked
up the scalps of the fallen.

“ \Ve’ve got business on hand, boys,” said
Ned, coming up on foot. “ I say, Jack, lasso
one of those horses for me; be sure and pick out
a good one, for that rascallycIndian has spearcd
mine through the neck. t us see after our
grisoner, captain.”

The two hurried to the bushes and found Tom
Duke 'ust as they had left him.

“I e had better not let the men know who
we have got, captain, or they won‘t be willing
to let him go. Most of t em have a spite

‘ ' . I’ll relieve you of this gag
now.
As the handle of the bowie was removed, the
' oner drew a long breath and looked steadily
at Ned Clayton. He did not speak but the ex-

ssion of his face was something dreadful, and
ose who saw it shuddered.

“Look here, Ned,” said Captain Hardin, “I
think that to insure your safety the sooner
we tuck this fellow up the better._ His hatred
of you is something beyond any thing of which
I ever heard.”

“ Don’t fear for me, captain," replied Ned.
" There is no love lost between this man and
myself, and but fmour coming he would have
been under the by this time. I was mad
then and should not have loosed my hold.”

“ ’ll remember you in the time to come,”
Master Ned Clayton. Captain Hardin are you
aware that this young scoundrel is one of my
bad sworn to kee our secrets?” said Duke.

“ he has to] me,” replied the captain,

'etly. “For your own good I Wm you not
to let the men know who you really , or I am
afraid that I should find it puite impossible to
restrain them. What is it, nick?”

The companion of Nod Clayton had come 13),
and was looking at the captive with wildly '-

lued eyes.
“ The devil! Who have you got here?” he

918% your tongue between your teeth, Jack,”
whispered Ned. ;“ We don’t want the men to

knoth et.”
“ I shoul think not. They’d tear him into a
as sure as my name is Jack.

     

 

Beadle’s Half-Dime Librai y.

Tge pld man wants to know which way to
n e.

“ Home, tell him. Get a spare horse for the

prisoner, and be quick about it.”
Five minutes later the part were in motion,
ridin toward Hardin’s ranch. The prisoner
rode tween the captain and Ned 013. n, with
two lariats about his neck, the end 0 one fast—
ened to Ned’s saddle-bow, and the other to that
of the captain. A sullen silence had fallen 11 n
the prisoner, and he rode with bent head, writh-
ing in his bonds as they gallcd him.

“That camp of which you s oke will be an no
safe ilace to visit, with the In ians on the trail,”
said lardin. “ Are you not afraid you may
fall in with Single Hand?”

“1 think we have 'ven hima bsson,” re—
plied Ned, “and he Will not stay long in this
section. I have heard that he was in league
with a band of white horse—thieves; but I am not
sure.’

“ Tell all ou know, Ned, my ho ,” said the
prisoner, wit out looking u . “VV’h not say
that he is in league with me ' ’

“I would not swear that he is not,” replied
Ned; “but I am not certain. I think ou had
better kee a civil tongue in your he , or the
men may car you.”

“ I’m not afraid, my boy. If I understand it,
I am to be exchanged for this girl.”

“That is the idea; are you willing?”

“Not exactly willing, Ned; but sometimes
circumstances over which we have no control
compel us to do things which do not suit us.
Yes, I will give the girl in exchange for my li-
berty u 11 one condition.”

“ Am what is that?”

“That I am not betrayed to the rangers. To
do this, it will be necessary for me to keep my
disguise—of course the captain knows by this
time that it is a disguise—until the exchange is
madX?”

‘ re ou willin to a co to that Ca tain
Hardin £”yasked Neg. gr ’ p

“Certainly; it is not much to ask after all.
You must, iowever, give Ned credentials in
order that he may show himself safely in your
camp, as well as to tell him what course to pur-
sue.

“ I am willing,” replied the prisoner; “but
oh, how I will make you suffer for all this, Ned
Clayton.”

“ Bali! Don’t threaten like a six-year-old
boy. Here we are at the ranch, captain. G0 in
and tell your wife what has happened, and tell
her, too, that I will not come back unless I bring
Lill with me.” '

“ ook out for the prisoner,” whispered the
Iclaptajn. “You know how much depends on

111].

Ned showed his pistol in a quiet way, which
convinced both the captain and his prisoner that
he would use it if needful, without remorse.
The captain sprung out of the saddle and ran
into the house, while Ned helped his risoner
from the saddle and led him into the hall.

"That carroty-headed son of a gun needs a
little lariat,” muttered Prairie Joe. “ I don’t
like his looks, not a durned bit.”

“ He does look pizen, old man,” said Jack
Evans, who had become quite p0 iular with the
rangers. “I reckon he’s a iiight- ird; I'm sure
he looks like it.”

“ Don’t try to escape, Tom,” said Clayton, as
they stood in the hall. “ It will be ainful for
me to shoot you, but I shall certain y do so if
you try to run—so look out for yourself.”

“I’m not going to try it my lad,” replied
Tom, with ‘a side-glance. “ You are heaping
up trouble for the time to come, I warn you.”

“ All right; I’ll take the chances. Here
comes the captain again, and now we’ll go ahead
and ,see what kind of a prison he has got for

on.

“ Why not let me go? I promise to send the
girl safe home.”

“We can’t trust you, captain; Men of our
sort, when desperate, often forget their pr mis-
ed word of honor. No; I will go myself, and

brin the ' 1 back.” ,
“ en must trust you, it seems, although
you refuse to trust me.”

“That seems to be the programme, captain.
Here is a table with pen, ink and paper. Sit
down and write a note to Joel Bennett, telling
him to give up the girl.”

He sat down and wrote a note, with sparkling

eyes.
f‘ Perhaps you would like to read it?” he

an .

“No,” replied Ned, quietly. “Of course it
will be better for you to make it stron , for the
rangers will kill you if I am not bac here in
three days.”

 

_m j

The outlaw looked troubled, tore up the note
which he had written, and wrote another—this
time one which seemed to suit him better. Ned
thrust the letter into his pocket, and helped the
captain put handcuffs on' the prisoner.

“ You dare to de ade me with irons, like a
felon?” he hissed. ‘ 'ait until my turn for re—
venge comes.”

They took him between them and led him
down to a strong cellar into which he was
thrust, and his feet manacled.

“ Now understand me, captain,” said Ned.
“I am going to the camp of the outlaws and
when once there, I shall try to get Lilly. l’Vhe—
ther I fail or not, I shall come back as faras
Deep Canon within three days. If that is not
done, you will know that there has been foul-
play. Jack will wait for me in the canon for
three days, and if I do not come back, you know
what to do.”

The heavy door clanged upon the prisoner,
and he was alone; but shortly after he heard a
man pacin up and down before the stout door
and knew t at he had a sentinel. Dragging his
heavy irons to the small window, not wide
enough to permit the ppssage of a man’s body,
he looked out and saw ed layton and Jack in
the act of mounting their horses. The were
detained at the last moment by Mrs. ardin,
who came out to bid Ned God-speed and kiss
him. The expression of the man’s face became
demoniac.

“ The older she grows the more beautiful she
is,” he muttered. “ If it were not for Coral, I
don’t know what I might do. Poor girl! she at
least has been faithful. I want that young
hound’s blood, and I will have it.” '

While he thus muttered, the two adventurers
touched their horses and rode away at a rapid
pace, heading for the scene of the late conflict.

“It is the game of life,” he murmured.
“Who wins?”

CHAPTER VIII.
THE FAIR CAPTIVE.

WE lef t Lillian Hardin a prisoner in the
hands of Joel Bennett, the trusty aid-de—cam
of Tom Duke. The man had been well selected.)
A glance at his face would have convinced any
one that he would do his master’s biddiiiOr, and
destroy the innocent girl if hard pressed by his
pursuei's. It was well forhei‘ that he gained the
depths of the Chaparral before they could over—
take him, for twice, when hard pushed, he had
put his hand upon his 'l-mife to accomplish his
fell purpose.

But, no sooner was he in the Chaparral than
he dismounted, with a malicious grin upon his
face, and waited for the coming of his compan-
ions. that was his rage when he knew by the
voices upon the edge of the thicket that Tom
Duke had not succeeded in his attempt to stop
Captain Hardin and Ned Clayton.

“ I’ll bet a thousand dollars they’ve gone un-
der,” he muttered. “ Ef they be vc, little ’un,
you’ll wish you had never been born. Sce here
-—l’in going to take my hand away from your
mouth, and if you yell, I’ll kill you on the spot.
Understand now, for I mean it.”

“ I shall not scream,” said Lilly, ashe removed
his broad hand. “It would be uscIeSs now chat
we are in the woods, but, don’t think that I am
afraid of you, coward that you are.”

The man laughed at the spn'it shown by the
youn girl. .

“ Ygou’re the boss-gal, miss,” he said. “ Blame
me if you don’t beat my time all to nothing. I
s’pose you’d stick a knife into me if you only
got the chance.” _

“Try me,” replied Lilly, boldly, “and you
can convince yourself upon that huh I would
take your life as I wou d that o a viper.”

“ Good 1” said Bennett. “ I knew you was
the s unkiest gal in Texas. Come, We’ve got to

t ee r into the Chaparral; I’m afraid (.ap-

in Du 9 has gone under.”

“ A ood thing for the world if he has. A de.

spicabFe villain who steals into an honest house
under the cloak of} religion, and betrays those
who trusted him.”
“ It won’t be Vegy good for you if he is dead
my 'rl,”replied ennett, “for your fate will
be a, d one, I’m thinking. Come along, and,
:15. yep go, pray that Captain Duke may be
we.

He tookalariat and bound the arms of his
prisoner behind her; then with the other end
of the rawhide ropei is and he ordered her
in front, while he led the horses, directing her
which path to take. In this way they kept on
for over an hour, through tangled paths, until
the Chaparral became more open, when they
a ' mounted and rode on at a. rapid, pace.

 

is

'ywas sitting behind theh mammals,

   

.4 .
. m ~ 9

\

    

 

 

 

 

  
   
 

 

Single Hand.

  

9

 

i.‘
.———

as he still held the end of the rope he was not
yer attentive to her proceedings, when she sud-
-de y slip from the horse and ran into the
thicket. he had managed to slip the rope
from her arms and thus get clear of her captor.
Utterin a sounding oath, the rutiian sprung af—
ter her, ut found to his dismay that he was be—
ing distanced b the quick—footed girl, Whom a
life upon the )rder had given a wonderful
.physical development, seldom seen .m one so
young. The paths were many and diverging to
over point of the compass, and as she got out
of his sight for a moment it was 1mposs1ble for
him to say which one she had taken. There
was but one way; so, raising his fingers to his
lips, he uttered a shrill call. which was answered
:at once from the woods beyond, and twenty or
thirt rough~looking men uickly 'oined him.

“Shatter, and search t e woo< 8,” he cried.
“ A girl—a prisoner—has escaped from me! Be
vquick, for she runs like a deer.”

The men at once darted down the different

ths, satisfied that they could run her down
Ezfore she reached the open prairie. Lili heard
the signal and knowing that she coul not es-
cape by running, and remembering the manner
inwhich she had eluded the Indians upon a
former occasion, crept under the low branches
of a ground pine, came 'out 11 n the other side
of the tree, and plunged into t 1e thicker part of
'the Chaparral. She had hardly done so when
those of her pursuers who had taken the path
she had chosen ran rapidly by. then they
had passed she arose ant looked about her for a
tree in which to find shelter, for she dared not
move, knowing that, at any moment, she might
come upon her enemies.

Near at hand was a low oak, Whose thick
branches seemed fitted to give her shelter, and,
grasping one of the lower limbs, she drewher—
self up until she was perched upon a stout limb.
After taking breath fora moment she climbed
higher and found that the thick leaves would
completely hide her from observation.

There she sat, listening anxiously to the
sounds which came from the forest, hoping
that they would not find her, and yet hardly
knowing what to do in case she escaped, for she
was alone in the depths of the chapnrral, which
was of vast extent, and she did not know which
way to turn to reach the pran'ic.

As she sat there, she heard a slight rustling
in the leaves. and looking up encountered the
gaze of a pair of fiery c 'cs, tixcd upon her in a
tl'ircatcningr manner. : t the same moment a
brown arm. armed with a long knife, was
thrust out from among the leaves and she saw
the head and shoulders of a paintcd tl<iiiiaiiitlie
just above hcr, threatcning hcr with instant de—
struction if she cried out. She recovered her—
self in an instant, and makingr a Signal to the
Indian to H“llllll’l quiet and she would do the
same, settled herself lirnily upon the branchand
waited.

Thc Comanche was evidently :ita loss. and
his wild eyes roved over her figure in blank be-
wilderment. She saw that he was lll_ a quan-
dary and made him a lofty gesture. implying
herabsolntc power over him. which added to the
mystery of her [)l’i‘St’llCP.

the birdies not faraway, and two or three
presently stopped directly under the tree in
which the Indian and Lilly wcre concealed.

“ Bennett was foolish to trust a girl like that,”
said one.
don’t care much, either.” said another.

“Let them search if they will,” growled a
straiigcly-l'aiiiiliar voice. “It is none of our

business to search ft >r Bcimctt’s escaped prison- ‘

ers. We will sit down under the tr. =1- ..nd let
her run. Did he tell you who it was, com—
.rade?”

“ Hardin’s daughter.”

“Carambo! The most beautiful little crea-
'ture this side of the Rio Grande. I hate her
father above all men on earth, but she is a di-
vine creature.”

“Don’t be a fool, Pedro; this is the captain’s
,game, and no one dares interfere with it.

“ Am I a fool then? I tell you that the little
girl has often ooked upon me with favorable
.eyes. Indeed, I think she loves me, and was
deeply grieved when her father discarded me
for that accursed young dog, who shall feel the
16 th of my knife some day.”

1‘15 heard that Ned Clayton trounced you
:flnely that day. Why, you donkey, boy that
he is, he can lick any five greasers in Texas. I’ve
:a oodmindtosa ten. _ .

‘It is false, Blahchard, it is false!” screamed
the Mexican, for it was no other than Pedro

 

The whim men were '
nOw scattered through the woods in all direc- ,
tions, and sonic of them were breaking through ‘

 

whom Ned Clayton had supplanted. “He had
me at a disadvantage—”

“ Pshaw! He can lick you in half a minit by
the watch, and I’d undertake to do it myself in
twice the time.”

Pedro s rung to his feet, furious with passion,
and laid ' hand upon a, knife, for which he
was promptly knocked down by the man he had
called Blanc ard, for Americans in those days

aid little heed to the “greasers,” whom they

eld in contempt as men below them in the scale
of nature. How far the uarrel might have
gone it is impossible to say, ut at this moment,
the Indian who was leaning forward to see the
fight broke the limb upon which he was seated
and fell to the earth.

This at once changed the current of events,
and the two white men, including the Mexican,
who arose and joined them, at once assailed the
Comanche, who, placin his back to the tree, de-
fended himself manful y against the combined
attack. He was a lithe, active young fellow,
whose intelligent face and warlike bearing
showed that he held no mean place in the tribe,
and he certainly handled his weapons with con-
summate skill. Assailed by three men at once,
he managed to keep their knives off his body,
and wounded Blanchard in the shoulder, though
not deeply.

It is hard to say how the struggle might have
ended if Pedro had not seized a heavy branch
and struck the Indian while he was parrying a
blow from Blanchard’s knife, causing his arm to
drop nerveless at his side.

In an instant the red-skin was seized and
thrown to the earth, and a knife raised above
his unprotected breast. Lilly had seen the
struggle of one against three, but when she saw
the brave sava 6 fall she could not bear it; and
dropping from or perch, she caught the uplift-
ed hand of Blanchard in hers.

“ No, no,” she cried. “He is a brave man—
do not strike him when he has been overcome
by numbers.”

“ It’s the ca tain’s daughter!” cried Blanch-
ard.
run again.” I

" You need not hold me, sir,” replied Lillian.
“ I shall not attempt to escape, but if you are a
man, and you look like one out of )lace among
these rulfians, you will not slay a clpless pris-
oner.” I

“ That’s so!” said Blanchard, lookinga little
ashamed of himself. “ Y on see, my fighting
blood was up, miss, and I didn’t know what I
was doing: Get up, Red, but don’t try to run
or you’ll get hint.”

not the words, and stood up, holdingr out his
hands for the ropes.

“We’ll keep him until the (‘ap Comes back,” ‘

said Blanchard, who was a goml—looking, reck-
less young fellow in hunter‘s dress. “You
mustn’t think hard of us if we take you back,
miss: it's our duty.”

“I shall not quarrel with you for that, sir,”
she replied, “but, I hope you Will treat me
well.” _

“Let me hear a man insult you, or see him as

much as look at you against your will, and I’ll !

be into him with a bloody spur. Get out of the
we , Pedro; what are on about?” .
lyedro had seized Lil y by the wrist and was
holding her fast. but fell back muttering as
Blanchard advanced.
“ You two take care of the Indian and see that

, he does not escape. Whistle, and let the others
“ I for one don’t believe wo'll catch her, and i

know it is all right, Ben.”

The other man. who had not yet spoken a
word, obeyed orders. Blanchard signed to Lilly
to come with him, and breaking a way for her
through the tangled bushes, reached one of the
paths, down which he proceeded at a ra id pace.

hey were soon joined by others, an at last
lfiefinett came up, overjoyed at the recapture of

1 v.

“I’ll tell you what it is, my ir,”he said,
threatening her with his clenched and, “if you
try that thing again it will be the worst thing
you ever did.”

“Come, don’t bull a 'rl, Bennett,” said the
young man called B anc “ That won’t do
you know.”

“What have you got to say about it, Jim
Blanchard 9”

“It’s enou h for you to know that I won’t see
her abused, nnett. You know me of old, so
don’t try to come the old soldier over me.
you do, you’ll wake up the wrong boy, sure !”

.The bold bearing of the young man had its
eflect, and after growlin out some fierce re-
‘oinder, Bennett drew bac and looked at the

ndian.
“ What did you want to make a prisoner for?”

“ Catch iold of her, Pedro, do not let her 1

 

1 to die the death of a traitor.

 

he demanded. “You know well enough that
we have no time to waste upon them.” a

“ You attend to Blow own aflairs and I’ll £7
to do the same, nnett,” was the cool reply.
“ Ben and I took that risoner and we’ll answer
to the captain for it. y opinion is that if on
hurt that Indian you’ll make a big mistake.’

Bennett said no more, and shortly after th
reached a camp in the midst of the Che.me
where several women, most of them Mexicans
of the lower class, came out to meet them, and
examined the tprisoners with great curiosi .

“Get out o the way, girls,” said Blane
lauglhing. “Anita, come here!”
T e prettiest and youngest of the women

camp, forward at his commanld. ”
“ m going to 've ouinc arge of :11 Wife
said Blanchard,  you must promisi: not to
attempt to escape until we hear from our cap- -
tain, or I shall be obliged to set a guard over
you, Miss Hardin. Do you agree to that?”

Lillian readily promised and went away with .
the Mexican woman, who seemed to take great
pride in her charge.

“ Your husban has been'very kind, although
I am his prisoner,” said Lillian, as they entered
one of the several huts in the opening. “I am
surprised to see him here.”

Anita shrugged her shoulders. “Bah! what
would you have, senora? M husband will keep
faith with his companions, aghough it is not m
will that he is here. You must be very tire
and I will show you a place of rest.”

There was a little alcove, formed from
blankets, in one corner of the room, and within
this a rude bed. Lillian was worn out, and,
without disrobing, she lay down 11 n the
blankets and was quickly aslee . “ hen she ‘
awoke it was morning, and Anita was prepar-
ing a savory breakfast, while Blancth sat in
the doorway smoking his pi .

“ I don’t take ve kindley to kidnapping, ‘
Miss Hardin,” he sai , removing his pipe from
his mouth, “and the captain has got to explain
this when he comes back. Do ou know that
your Indian friend gave us the s ip last night?”

“ I am glad to hear it, sir.”

“ Oh, are you? 1 don’t know as I care much
about it, for I think he is a son of Single Hand,
and the old chief would remember it if we
wronged him. 'What's all that noise about!”

He stcppcd to the door and lookcd out, and

7

, saw that a man who had just ridden into the

camp wnssurroundcd by the outlaws, who were
making furious gestures. Heron out and broke
into the Circle, and saw that the visitor was Ned

f Clayton, who was sitting quietly in the saddle,
The Indian understood the gestures, although 1

looking coolly (Wci‘ the excited group, but with

' a hand upon a pistol.

“Back. all of you.” cried Blanchard. “ Let
us hear what he has to say."

CHAPTER IX.
AN APPARITION.

“HE’S a traitor," hissed Bennett, forcing a
way for himself among the men, “and he’s got
You all know
what one such man can do against us in Texas,
boys. He’s only got to telI Captain Hardin
where we corral the stock we ‘ raise.’ and \\ here
we hide ourselves. and we are done. for. \V hat
I say is this: if any man is false to his oath, let
him bear the penalty. Have you anything to
say against that, Jim Blanchard?” ,

“ Of course not,” replied Blanchard. “I know
that Ned Clayton never was willing to take
much part in the work except breaking horses
and fighting Indians, but I don’t think he is a
traitor. Come, Ned speak up; tell them that
they are liars, and I’ll back you—I’ll back you
until all is blue.” -

“ I have left the band,” re lied Ned Clayton,
boldly, while a rfect how of rag! arose on
every side. “ I ave left it because I could not
do the evil deeds which were required of me by
Tom Duke.” _

Blanchard hung his head, for he knew that
the young man had spoken his death-warrant,
and he saw the triumphant lock upcn the face
of Bennett.

“Dr him ofl.’ the horse, boys," cried the
despe 0. “Get a lariat, some one: you hear
him confess, don’t you?” .

"‘ You intend to hang me, do you?” said Ned,
quietly. “ I would not do that, if I were you.”

“ Don’t let him talk,” screamed Bennett,
furious at the coolness of the youngster.
“ String him up at once.”

“ It won’t be safe to do that, I tell you,” re—
plied Ned. “Keep‘your gang ofl" me, Joe Beu-
nett, or some one in this good crowd will get
hurt. Blanchard. do me the favor to keep them
away, for,_as sure as you put a finger «more or

 

delay my return to the place I came from, Cap— .‘ I I

  

 

 

 

Q then, for even Duke don’t think so.
I I amwilling to wait an hour, if that will do

10

 

Beadle’s Half-Dime L

 

tain Hardin will hang your worthy leader, Tom
Duke.”
“Curse him, he liesl” cried Bennett. “The
captain is all ri ht, and will be here in an hour.”
‘ Do you really think so?” said Ned, lau hing.
“ You are the most sanguine fellow in exas,
However,

on any good. In the mean time there is a lit-

e document which you will read to the men,
Blanchard.” .

u He produced a paper, which he. placed in
Blanchard’s band, who commanded Silence, and
read aloud:

“Ar manix‘s RANCH, July 12th, 18—.
“To in MEN m rm; Grumman:

“ I am a prisoner in the hands of Captain Hardin,
and likely to be hung if you do not con 1y with the
demands of the man the send. Deliv , to him the

risoner Miss Hardin, an let them go away unhurt.
It is the only way in which I can obtain my liberty.
In my absence, Blanchard, under the orders of
Coral, will be in command of the band. Ton Dunn."

“ It’s a forgery l” cried Bennett, looking about
an the oup of crestfallen faces. “ It’s a trick
to get 6 prisoner away from us.”

‘ Nonsense,” replied Blanchard. “I reco -
nine this writing, and it is the captain’s han ,
so don’t be fools. I understand by this that you
want the girl, Ned l"

“Precisely; nothing can be more plain,” re-
plied the young man.

“ Will you take her away at once i”

“I am obliged to do so, in order to get back
in time. You see, that if I am gone more than
three days, the swingin branch will be the por-
tion of your worthy ea‘der."

“I cave. You’ve got us dead, and it isn’t
the least use to kick against it. I would like to
have you see Coral, if it can be done.”

“ Coral is here, ’ replied a rich, full voice.
“ What do you want with me? What is this I
hear?”

“ Duke is a prisoner, madam,” said Blanchard,
extending the letter. “Here is what he says
about it.’

She snatched the letter from his hand and
devoured it, word by word, her black egg: flash-
ing strangely as she read. A more utiful
woman t on the one called Coral is rarely seen
in this imperfect world. Of medium hight—
with a clear creamy complexion, such as is
only seen in the creole—wit golden-brown hair
floating in profusion about her lovely form, and
eyes large. dark-blue, and full of melting ten-
derness; with a queen] (grace of motion, given
only to a gifted few, an elicate feet and hands,
she was a. model of womanly beauty and ace.

Her dress was Mexican, and jewels o rare
price arkled at her throat and on her bosom.
A go] en belt was irdled about her waist, in
which hun a pair 0 silver-mounted pistols and
a jeweled ( ag er.

“ So, Ned Clayton,” she said, turning upon
him quickly. “You are a traitor, it seems.
What have you got to say for yourself it"

“I prefer to say it to you alone, Coral,” he
replicr . .

‘ Fall back, men: leave us together,” she said,
in a commani‘ling voice. The men secined ac~

 

customed to obedience to her ordcrs, for they
were hardly given when Ned (‘layton and this
beautiful woman stood alone upon the level
sand.

“I can not toll you how much it [n'lcves me
that you should I)” l'nlso to us, Nod.” she said, l
softly. " if i lwl been asked to point out one l
among all whom I Have known who would not ;
be faithlcss to their oath, you are the one, Nod.
Why did you do it? why Lilli. you turn against ;
us?”

“ Coral,” replied Ned, hanging his head, “will
you ncvcr understand that it is not in my
nature to love this savage life of ours! I would .
not luch done you any harm—l told l)nkc so 1
when we Inct—but I wanted to live an honest l
life.” . J

“Pshziwl I thought you above such pitiful l
foolishness us that. Do you know that you dc- I
serve to die, and that Duke will kill you when 
he escapes?” l

|
l
l
l
l

“ I don’t think it will pay to threaten me now,
Coral. I have got a little the lwstof the hur—
gain, and have no time to waste in idle words.
As for you. there will never be a time when I
will not be ready to lay down my life in your
defense. You are beautiful, and have a brave
heart, and no 1nd ever had a better fricnd than
you have been to me; but, I can not stay here.” '

“You have chosen your pa th, Ned. I am 3
sorry to lose you, and warn you to get out of
Texas as soon as you can. Vi: e may meet again, 
in a happier hour than this, when you will not

med to own Coral as a friend. I wish to l

 

 

ask you a question. This Captain Hardin—I
know that Duke hates him—but who is be?”

“A brave and good man, against whom Tom
Duke feels the most deadly hate. Shall I tell
you why?”

“ If you will.”

“ Because they loved the same woman years
ago, and Hardin won her. This is her daughter
whom you have prisoner here, and for whom
we are willing to exchange the captain. They
tell me that what she is now her mother was at
her age.”

“ I must see her,” cried Coral, eagerly.
“ Where is she?”

“ Blanchard can tell
Coral wants to see Miss

“She is in m
Blanchard. “
like.”

Ned and Coral accompanied him to the door
of the cabin, and as they entered, Lilly, who
was sitting in a dejected attitude upon a low
stool, s rung to her feet and with a cry of joy
threw erse f into Ned élayton’s arms.’

“ Oh, Ned—dear Ned, have you come to take
me back to my father i”

“Yes, Lilly, yes; did you think we would
leave you here i”

Coral did not speak, but, advancing, she look-
ed at Lillian so intently that the girl winced
under her steady gaze, and drew back in some
alarm.

“ Do not fear me, sweet one,” said Coral, ten-
dggly. “Yes, you are beautiful and you are
g . If your mother had that face when she
was young it is no wonder that he loved her.
How dare he bring on here?”

“ Hush!” replied ed. “It is apart of his re-
ven e.”

“ t was unmanly in him, the only unmanly
act of which I ever knew him guilty,” said the
beautiful woman. “You must take her away
at once, Ned, and guard her better after this.
My darlin girl, would yet mind kissing one
w o, thong erring and sinful, has et a wom-
an’s heart and can love that which is good and
beautiful?”

Lilly rung into her arms and kissed her
again an again.

“ There, sweet one, we must part. Perhaps

on that. Here, Jim;
ardin.”

cabin with my wife,” replied
on can see her there if you

it is our fate never to meet again. If so, re-
member me as kindly as you can. Where is
your hat?”

“ I am afraid they took her awa in such

haste that they neglected to provide t at useful
article,” replied Ned.

“Anita, go to my house and bring the small
hat with the golden band. Be as quick as ou
can, for they ought to go away at once. hat
isthat shouting outside? You ought to keep your
men in better order, Blanchard.”

“They are a set of devil’s babies.” replied
Blanchard. “There is only one man who can
keg) them quiet, but I will do my best.”

e left the room and the cabin, but the excite-
ment did not cease! Anita came back in a mo-
ment, with a sort of riding-hat of soft felt, with
a drooping feather in a golden band. Coral
took it from her hand and placed it upon Lilly’s
head. Then she unclasped a bracelet from her
wrist and utit upon the girl’s.

“Kec tint in. memory of me. This tumult
is horrl le. Nod, I wondcrwhat it can mean?
Surely. the y are not mad enough torebel against
my authority vested in my trusty Blanchard!”

l‘hc uproar outside bccame greater, and seem-
ed to approach the cabin.

“ You must go away at once, Ned,” said
Coral.

“ Not yet!" cried a commanding voice. “ Not
without my consent.”

Ned Clayton started back in dismay, for

, thcrc, standing in tho (lonl'an, regarding him

with an evil eye, stood—Tom uke!

CHAPTER X.
THE TABLES TURNED—DUKES ALLIES.

Ilow had he escaped!

\Ve loft him in the collar at Hardin’s Ranch,
heavily ironed, and apparcntly as fur from all
hope of csvape us a man could be; but there he
was, in llcsh and blood. a lock of malignant
triumph in his dark eyes. He now flung,r ofl’
his hat and wig, tore zm ay his yellow beard.
straighl'cned his bent back and appeared to add
three or four incth to his hight l: ' the act, and
stood there erect as an Indian, an with as little
mercy in his breast as one of that evil race, and
there was unmistakable triumph in his face as
he said:

“ Not yet, my boy: oh, no!”

Coral sprung into his arms with a. glad cry
for, bad and cruel as he w-ts, this woman had
given him the priceless treasure of her love.

 

   

ibrary.

 

 

'I’aken without his disguise, he was an aristocra-
tic—looking man, with a face of marbles—a man
whom nothing could turn aside from any course.
which he h marked out for himself, and who-
would never forgive an injury. He kissed
Coral’s lips, and then put her gently from him.

. “ You Will have to post )one the little excur-
sxon which you have mar ed out for yourself,
my dear Ned,” he said, coolly. “ I have come.
back, you see.”

_ Ned saw that he was in deadly peril, and that.
it was a moment to think and act quickly.

Making a sudden leap, he flung Duke asxde and. 
ran out into the open air, where he found himself I

in the midst of a strong p of the outlaws,
upon whom he flung himself esperately, hurl-
ing them right and left in the strength of de-
spair, and with un aralleled brave almost
breaking through. cnnett threw h1mself in
the way, but was felled like an ox, and for a
moment it seemed that the brave youth would
escape, but a huge ruflian stealin up behind,
struck him with a heavy club, an he fell. A
dozen hands seized him, and, half stunned and
bleeding he was dragged into the presence of
Tom Duke, struggling and defiant to the last.

“Now, my fighting chicken,” said the out—
law, “ I think you have reached the end of your
rope. I told you at Hardin’s Ranch that you
would repent aving turned traitor, and I hope
you see our folly now.”

“ I o y repent one thing,” re lied Ned, reel.
ing from the eflort of the terrib e blow he had.
receiv

“ And what is that?”

“That Captain Hardin came between us while
I had on by the throat. Come, finish me now;
you’ll sorry if you don’t.”

“Time enough, my boy; plent of. time, so
don’t be in such a hurry to die. 6 really can
not 3 re you yet, and I have several questions
to before we work you ofl’. But, there shall
be no unnecessary delay, I assure you.”

“ But, Tom,” said Coral, grasping his arm.
my, surely do not mean that you will kill

“Silence, Coral. The oung rascal knows-
our laws and accepted e danger v hon he
turned traitor. Why, it is as much as my life
is worth to attempt to save him now, and 1 have
no inclination to do it. He deserves to die, and
die he shall.”

“You never refused me an thing before,
Tom,”she pleaded. “S are hislife; he is young,
too young to die such a eath, and if he has done
any wrong he will atone for it.”

“ ' if he will join us again and keep
his oath. I know he would break it, but you
may ask him.”

“ You are sorry for what you have done, Ned?”
said Coral, turning to the young man. “You
will be true to us in the future, will you not?”

“I wish I could say that with honor,” replied
Nod; “but I can not. 1 never will join their
infamous band again.” . ‘

“ You See,” said Tom Duke, stcrnly. “He is
hardened and would sooner die than give up.
Bennett, you will take him in charge: and re-
member, if he escapes, you answcr for it in your
own person. Do you understand me?"

Bennett nodded with a grim smile, and call-
ing in two or three of his subordinnu‘s, bound
the risoncr. and prcparcd to lead him away.

“ 'our evil dccds will one day find you out
Tom Duke,” cried the brave young man. “i
may dic, and ] am ready to meet death: lint
there are those upon ‘our truck \\ ho will ncvcr
lcave you until yui slccp mailer the {318553 of the

)rairio. And if yiu lay a linger upon Lillian
lnrdin—”

“ Enou ;h of that. Burnett, drag him away,
and stop ilS month if he persists in talking. The
young scoundrcl deserves a. Worse fate than we
can give him.”

“You can not frightf'n me, coward and cut-
law,” rcplicd Ned. “ Lilly, good-by; I did the
best I could for on.”

Lillian threw icrsclf at Tcm Duke’s foot and
hold up her hands plcudingly. chile he looked
down at her in UIlflllny-(l trnnni-h.

“ This is somethingz at hast. ultcr ycars of
waiting,” he said. ‘ MY l‘cvcnc‘e lrzis com-
menced, and if the ' only lam-w whose work it
was, I would be satisfied. But they shall know.
You may as well rise. Miss Hamlin: you will

plead in vain for that young traitor. and your '

father’s daughter does not look well kneeling at
niv feet.”
Lillian rose, her face flushing proudly.

“ I am glad you spoke of m father,” she said. .

“ He will not forget us, and should not be sur-

prised if he were close upon your heels with all
is brave men.”

“We will try to receive him with the hon-

A;

.g, . ._._. "VAL—v :-

'H ...-.“.a.

 

 

. .— ... .._-_. aux- _,

.-"— u-o—“r-...

 

 

Single Hand.

11

 

 

 

 

ors of war,” said Duke, with a smile. “Coral

I give this young lady into your charge, and

I expect you to see to it that she does not es-
,7

ca .

BeDo not make me her jailer, Tom, for as sure as
you do, I will help her to escape,” replied Coral,
prorgptly. _ _

“ on are certainly candid, my dear Coral,”
said Duke, laughing; “but I think I will trust
you still, for hardly think on would suffer
any one to escape w o woul put your hus-
band’s life in peril, and I give you my word
that if she gets away there is no safety for me
in Texas.”

The head of Coral dropped upon her bosom.
He had taken the only way to secure her ’ -—
through her love for him. He stood lookin ' at
her a moment, with a look half of remorse, alf
admiration, and then ordered the men who were
clustered about the door to move back and per-
mit the passage of Bennett and the risoner.
Ned went out with a proud look upon is noble
young face, and even the men who desired his
death were forced to admire him. Lilly had
retreated to the shelter of Coral’s arms, and re-
posing her head upon the woman’s bosom, was
so ing as if her heart would break.

‘ me Cora‘,” said Duke, “ bring your
charge With on .0 our cabin. I little thou ht
once that I s ould be glad of such a shelter; ut
life is full of strange Vicissitudes.”

He went out first, pushing his way through
the ranks of the men, pausing now and then to
shake hands with a favorite, or to ask some
question, and made his way to a cabin more
neat] built than an of the others, the door of
whic stood open. ne ro woman was la ing
the cloth for a meal, as t e came in, who ook-
ed delighted at the sight 0 Duke.

“Good liebbens, MarseTom,” she said, “ you
done got ’way from dem rangers? T’ou ht you
done gone up dis time, Marse Tom—I 'd, for
shure.” _

“I’m all right, Jinny,” said Duke, laughing
lightly. “ The time had not _come for me to be
laid by the heels, but when it does, I believe I
shall have a sincere mourncr in you. Is break-
fast nearly ready? I’m as hungry as a hunt-
er

“ Mcs’ ready, Marne Tom. G’long —- you
knows what raal cookil’ is, you does. Don’t
’low no low-lived truck to beat me cookin’ dat
I don’t! Goodness gracious! who dat? ader
above, dat’s my young missecy—dat’s Miss

ie!”

Tom Duke hesitated and looked blank for a
moment, and then laughed again. _

“ So you see the resemblance, do you, J inn ?
I might have known it, for I see in her exact y
what her mother was at her age. This 15 Miss
’Rie’s daughter.”

The old negress approached Lilly and gazed
lon and earnestly into her face.

“ ou‘s bootit'ul, young missce,” she said at
last. “ l nebber hoped to see anudder ob do ole
stock a ’in, and sart’in not do chile ob my dear
Missee ’ tic. I hope she Well, Chile—you tell me

77

“ My mother is very well,” said Lilly. “But
who are you .6”

" Let me answer for you,” said Duke. “ This
is Jinny, one of your mother’s old_ family ser-
vants. No matter how she came into my pos-
session, or who 1 am? It is enough for you to
know who she is, and I warn you, J inny, under
pain of my displeasure, never to speak my name
to this young lady.”

“ (food hebbens! you don’t s’pose I let out on
you, Marse Tom!" replied J inny. “ Ki! Her
fader an’ you not so frien’ly to one anudder (lat
I tole who you be. I didn’t think he let his drir-
tor Come an’ see you.”

“I am not here of my own accord, .Tinny,”
said Lillian, quickly. “ am a prisoner.”

, “Dunno imilin ’bout dot,” said Jumy, with
the vacant look which a slave knows how Io os-
5111116. “ Mai-so Tom he ’tend to all dat, I rock-
on, an’ it won’t do for an ole nigger woman to
interfere; she knows better. Got forty lashes
for (lat once, and don’t want ’cm ag’in, dou’t."

' “ Get the breakfast on the table, Jinny," said
Coral, impatiently. " \Vhat nonsense you are
talking now.”

“ You don’t ’spect sense in me, lllissce Coral?”
said J innv, with a laugh. “ Dat’s too ('uri‘s, (lat
is. De idea ob sense in an ole nigger woman!
Ki; (lat too funny, dat is.”

In s ite of her assumed humility, there was
met 'ng in the manner of the negress which
gave‘ Lilly hope, and she was wise enough to
say nothing to her. Two or three times in the

 

course of the meal their eves met, and she saw a
strange look in the twinkling black orbs of the I
negress, which she could not understand.

   

“I have not asked you how on escaped dear
Tom?” said Coral. “ Ned layton  you
were in irons.”

“ So I was,” replied Duke; “ butlhave a way
of my own of gIetting out of irons when they are
not too tight. freed myself from the shackles,
squeezed in self out of the window stole a horse
and was 0 . I had toomake a Circuit to avoid
some Indians, and that made me late, or I be-
lieve that I should have been here to receive
Master Ned Clayton in rson. But it is just as
well; I was in time to o the work.”

“ I wish tyou would let Ned go, or at least
spare his 1i e, even if you keep him a prisoner.”

“You ask too much, Coral. There are not
man thin . which I would refuse on, as I
thin you ow, but this is im i le. Our
safet de nds u n the destruction of this boy,
who as t e inte ect of an Arnold, and the same
traitorous disposition. Once free, he would
leave no stone unturned to thwart my plans,
and we should not be safe for a moment. He
must die, and you only make trouble by talking
of him.”

“He is so brave and noble-hearted in every
thing else that I cannot hear to see him suffer.
If he would promise to leave Texas and not re-

would ou let him go?”

“ e woul come back, Coral-he would come
back—and the ma et which would draw him
is not far away. ve me to attend to him,
and as the men vote, so it shall be. They know
what is best for their own safety.”

“ We took an Indian prisoner lmt evening—a
man who Blanchard sa 5 is Black Feather, the
son of Sin 1e Hand. 0—”

“ You did him no harm, I hope?" cried Duke,
starting up.

“He escaped during the night, and although
he was treated somewhat roughly when cap-
tured I hardly think he was hurt. ’

“ on have made a. mistake in capturing him
at all ” replied Duke. “ He came here with
friendly intentions, and perhaps we have now
alienated his father. H0wever, we must re 'r
the wrong, if possible, and at once; so tell n-
nettto pre re to accompany me to the prairie.”

Half an our after, the outlaw rode out with
two men and returned before noon, accompa-
nied by our or five Indians, one of whom was
the young chief taken the night before, who
looked stern] about upon the faces of the out-
laws as if see 'nfinthe man who had struck him
down the night fore. But, Pedro prudently
kept out of sight, as he had no wish to meet the
Indian now. Riding by the side of Tom Duke
was the gigantic chief whom Lilly had seen be-
fore, Single Hand; a trul up ling figure in
his war— )aint. He seem to upon friendly
terms With Duke, and 100de about on the cam
with the eye of a warrior, and appeared to think
well of his associates.

They dismounted at the door of Duke’s cabin,
and as they entered, Lillian shrunk away, awed
by the terrible appearance of the great chief,
who looked at her admirin ly, although the
dark beauty of Coral pleased iin best.

“My brothrr has beautiful wives” he said.
“Single Hand has none like them in is lodge.”

 

“ The old rip,” muttered Blanchard, who was 7

with the party.
those?" ,

“This is my wife,” said Duke, pointing to
Coral. “The other is_ the child of your enemy
and mine. Captain Hardin.”

“ llu!” cried the chief, fiercely.
a dog and many of the Conninche have fallen by
his hand. Let liim~ beware of Single Hand,
chief of the Comanche!
rushing of a mighty wind and his blows as ter—
rible as the stroke of the lightning. “'hcn he
hates he strikes, and his encmics wither before
him as the prairie under the fire.”

Thcl'c was something strikingly impressive in
the attitude of the great chief, and Lilly, much
as she feared liiinpwas def-ply touched by his
manner.

“ Perhaps he would like one of

man talk,” he said, uickly. “But see; he is a
friend of the Golden ' , and would not see her
wronged. She saved him from white man knife;
he save her now—all same.”

“ You can not help me now,” said the .
eagerly, “but on can hel one whom I love.”

‘ Sta ,” sai Coral. “ must not hear this,
althoug I hope that you will succeed in your
undertaking. Let me go awa for a moment
and leave you to ether. You 0 not fear to be
left alone with this young chief, Lilly?”

Without a moment’s hesitation she answered
“ 11:0 ” and Black Feather drew a long breath of
re e .

“ The Golden Hair is wise beyond her vears,
and can read the heart of the Comanche. She is
safe with Black Feather who would not hurt a
hair in her head to save his life.”

Coral moved away and stood under the sha-r
dow of a great tree, out of bearing, but from
which she could warn them of the approach of
an enemy Lilly and the Indian remained for a
moment in close consultation, and then he moved
awe. and Coral came back.

“ on’t tell me an thingbgear Lilly, cried the
creole, eagerly. “ on better keep it a
secret if you have formed any plan, for it would.
be my duty to tell the truth if my husband ask--
ed the question.”

“ I shall tell you nothing,” answered Lilly ;.
“but that young Indian has a noble heart—a
heart which would do credit to any white man.
1Ynounwill probably hear something before morn--

ey went back to the camp but did not enter
the cabin, as the leaders were still in consulta—
tion. An hour after, while they were sitting in
Blanchard’s cabin, that worthy came in, looking
flushed and angry.
“ I’ll tell you what it is, madam,” he said, ad-
dressing Coral, “your husband carries matters
with too high a hand. I for one, did not join.

a party of idna pers. I knew that they were
rascals, but I di not think they were of the
mean kind.”

i‘ What is the matter, Blanchard?” said Co
ra .

“The matter is that as soon as this present.
work is done, I quit. I’ve been asked to league
with Indians in the meanest lot— See here;
I’ll go out on the lains and fig t the savages as
lon as life lasts, ut I’ll be—no, I won’t swear—»
if ’1] kidnap any more women. And don’t let
them give me a chance, or Ned Clayton will get-

awa , sure.”

Lglian made a signal which Coral understood,
and she left the room, leaving them together.
What Lillian said to him did not transpire until
afterward, but Blanchard went out, whistling,
with a happy look on his face. That ni ht, or.
rather next morning, Tom Duke was ca ed out
113in one of the men and led to the cabin where

ed Clayton was confined. He found Bennett
lying senseless upon the earth, bound hand and
foot with a gag thrust into his mouth. There
were marks of several feet upon the earth, but-
cliiefly moccasin-tracks which it would ‘be hard
to identify.

“You needn’t tell me what has happened,”
said Duke, fiercely. ‘* The boy has escaped.”

“ It wasn’t our fault, captain.

Jim Bugle is

3 dead and Bennett pretty nigh it, and the y

His coming is as the ‘

She could not underrtand his words, 

but his gestures were comnumding and his eyes ,

kindled as he s )okc. She turncd from him and
her eye met t zit of Black Feather, who was
looking other intently.
smiled, and she knew that, in the young war-
rior, she had found a f ricnd.

“Leave us, Coral,” said Duke. “IVe have
some private business.”

Coral took Lilly by the hand and led her out
of the cabin and into the forest beyond the clear-
ing. They had not gone far when they were
overtaken by Black Feather, who 'had made
some excuse for leaving the cabin. He at once
approached, bending before them with a court-
;V grace which would have done credit to a

111 nv.
“ ack Feather can not much speak white

gone.”
Duke stood a moment in thought. with his

; hnnd upon a knife and then stooping he cut the
“Hardin is ‘ d

cords which boun Bennett.

“ Call up the men, Timpson. Get out Blanchv
ard and tell him that we march in half an hour.
There is not a moment to be lost.”

The outlaws wasted no time. Half an hour
later the camp was deserted, and the jaguar
and the prairie wolf struggled with each other
for the dcbris of the deserted place.

CHAPTER XI.
A l‘RAlRlE BATTLE.
THE escape of Tom Duke was reported to
Captain Ilnrdin early in the morning. No one

 

‘ could be blamed for it, as it was evident that be

As their cyrs met he i

had slipped off the irons—a trick of which few
men were capable. The rangers were at once
called together, and leaving three men in charge
of the house, they rode out 10ward Deep Gull ',
where a reconcerted signal called out J ac
who was iidden in the bushes, and who hear
the news of Duke’s escape with great alarm.

“ He‘ll kill Fred Clayton!” he said—“ he’ll kill
him as sure as fate. I wouldn’t give a pieayune
for his chalice of being alive, twenty-four hours
from now.”

“Do you know where their camp is, Jack?"
said the captain.

“ No, I don’t, ca tain.

You see I’ve been in
another part of

6 State, for this band has

 

 

.12

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library.

 

 

branches all through the South, and I don’t
know where they corral themselves any more
than a dead man. It’s deep in the chaparral—
that’s all I kin say about it.

“ Then our onl ho is to lay back and
watch,” said Bar in ‘ and to send out scouts
in every direction. f they see any man going
into the Chaparral, they must mark the spot
and come back to report.”

Half a dozen men receiving their instructions,
set out at once. just before dusk they came
back, one b one, and reported that they had
seen sevaraly men enter t e chaparral at differ—
ent points, and that a large body of Indians,
perhaps a hundred in all, were camped in a
gulch, about five miles to the north.

“The band of Single Hand, I’ll bet any
money,” said Jack. “ There is some kind of an
agreement between Duke and that In 'in, so that
they work to ether this season, thoug what the
agreement is don’t know.”

“ We can not do any thing to-night,” said the
captain. “The only wa is to get into the
Chaparral near the place w ere the boys saw the
men going in, and hunt for si in the morning.
’ do you think uke can muster,

“About forty, I should say. A good many of
them are off on dut .”

“ Horse-stealing?

“You bet!”

“ Are they fighting men, Jacki”

“Blood-lappers, every man of them, exce t
Jim Blanchard and he’s too good a chap to
in the business.’ .

The band of rangers numbered fifty men.
They knew that the outlaws comb'med with the
.sava es would make a tough job for them, yet
they ad no fear, and at the orders of the cap-
tain rode out after dusk and entered the chap—
arral without seeing any of their enemies. The
horses were led into the bushes and picketed
safel , and, after satin his guards, Captain
Har in wrapped his b 'et about him and lay
down to rest.

The #8 passed and they were a ain in the
saddle, working carefully about in t e thicket
until they found a trail and followed it to the
«and, and, as they hoped, it took them to the
cam , deserted for some hours.

“ ‘u-rse the luck!" cried Hardin.
bevy taken the giant and are 011'.”

"Search about,” said Jack. “If they have
finished Ned Clayton you’ll find him hanging
somewhere.”

The men scattered through the woods' but

found no trace of their new ally, and began to
hope that he had escaped. But, in their search,
they found a fresh trail leading to the north,
am quickly satisfied ism-solves that this was
the course taken by the outlaws in leaving the
cam .
“The dirty thieves,” cried old Joe. “‘They
«don’t want to meet a free ranger—they don’t.
They’d ruther strike up a ranch or steal hosscs
or uiggersr-that 5 what the y’d like to do.”

“ They’re a hard lot. Joe,” said the reclaimed
' outlaw. “ It's a wonder to me that I ever con-
sorted with them, but, to tell you the truth, I
was awfull down on my luck, and I liked Ned
Clayton. f they have killed him some ha’r has
got to be lifted, and I’m the boy to do the job.”

“ We must follow them,” said the captain;
“that is the only way, and we must not waste
time. Bob Farrell and Tim Driscoll me. take
the trail as advance scouts and we will fo low.”

No effort had been made to conceal the trail,
and it was easy to follow forty horses over such
a ground as that. The course led them through
the Chaparral in places where the most natural
conformation was “ Indian file,” in which order
the proceeded, the scouts beating ever thick-
et hefore they allowed the rest to fol ow. It
was plain that Duke had not expected to have
them upon the trail so soon or he would have

“ They

laid an ambush in some of the difficult places k

1 over which they were compelled to  (

After a ride of nearly four miles he path be- i
came more open, and soon after they came out
into a bush-prairie, not far from the spot where
the scouts had seen the Indians the da before.

“ Halt here,” cried Hardin. “Let ' Dris—
coll scout up toward the Indian camp and see if
they are there still.”

Driscoll, a rollicking Irishman, but a capital
scout in many respects, threw his bridle to the
next man, took his rifle and stole away through
the bushes. Five minutes later his clear whistle
announced that they might advance, and they
found him standing on a little rise in the rar-
rie, looking out upon the Indian cmnp, w 'ch
was also deserted.

 

“The devils seem to scent us this morning,”
cried the captain, in a disappointed tone, “and

they have 1Brobably joined their forces before
this. It w' be a bear-fight when we do meet
for we have no right to despise Single Hand and
his men. What is that, Tracy?”

One of the men came forward and put in his
hand a fragment of muslin which he had found
fluttering upon a bush. He recognized it at
once as a portion of the dress which Lillian had
worn the day of her ca ture.

“The have her then, he murmured. “What
can be t 's man’s plot in making her a prisoner?
I do not understand it.”

“ He hates you for some reason, captain,” re-
plied Jack “ and takes the girl as a means of
strikin a low at you.”

“I s lOllld not wonder if that was his plan,
but it is cowardly in a man to strike at one
whom he hates through a weak girl. He will live
to repent it, or my name is not Hardin. What
do you say, boys; dare we follow these bloody
scoundrels?”

A cheer burst from the throats of the rangers,
and Hardin knew that they were ready to fol-
low him to the very death.

“All right, boys,” he said. “I on ht not to
have asked you the question, for Iinew that

on were true men to the last gasp. Ride on;

riscoll take the advance.”

Tim Driscoll was again in the saddle, and led
them into the Indian camp. It was evident
that they had not been gone over an hour, for
the ashes of their fires were yet warm as the
scouts turned them over, and a broad trail led
awa to the south.

“ e are bold to take that direction,” said
the cap ‘11. “ Surely, they cannot know that
We have left the ranc ?”

“I don’t think the?), do, captain, but, the are
so strong now that t ey don 1; care for us,’ said
Jack. ‘ I think it lays in our bones to teach
them a thing or two about that, yet.”

“We will try, at any rate,” said the captain,
as the leading scout dashed out of the camp at a
great pace. “Confound their impudence, we
will teach them who are masters on this
border.”

The trail lcd along the edge of the Chaparral
and then turned off in the direction of Deep
Gulch. As the approached this point they saw
an Indian am a white man running at full
speed to gain the cover of the thicket, and by a
wave of his hand the captain detached four men
to run them down.

The mustangs, as they felt the spur, darted
away at their best speed and were rapidly
overhauling the fugitives, when J ack, who was
leading the chase, suddcnly uttered a shout of
delight, and raising his fingers to his mouth
gave a peculiar whistle, at the sound of which
the white man, who was about to plunge into
the thicket, turned toward the pursucrs and
cried out to the Indian to come back. Hardin
saw Jack Evans dash up at full speed. and,
instead of striking the white man down, spring
from his saddle and grasp his hand in a friendly
manner, while the other three crowded about
him, with many demonstrations of joyful sur-
prise.

“ Ride on,” said Hardin. “ \Vho the deuce
can it be?”

The rangers came on, and as they neared the
group at the edge of the chaparral they saw
that Ned Clayton was among them, his face
radiant with joy. Hardin leaped from his sad—
dle and embraced him warmlv.

“Next to the safety of Lilly I am delighted
to see you free. my dear Ned,” he said. “ How
were you used?”

“ Badl enough,” replied Ned. “Tom Duke
slipped t e buckle, and got away just in time
to nab me as I was leaving the camp with
Lillian.”

“ Who is this Indian?” said the captain, look-
ing hard at Ned’s companion.

‘Black Feather, the son of Sin 1e Hand.
Keep back, boys; the man that touc es him in
anger must fight me, for, but for his help I
should now be hanging to a branch in on er
chaparral. He saved me for Lillian’s sa 9, and
must be allowed to go un uestioned.”

“Wh-y for Lillian’s sa e? I do not under-
stapd. Keep back, boys: don’t press upon them

so.

“It seems that Lilly saved him from the
knives of the outlaws, in some way, I don’t
exactly know how myself, and so he aided in
my escape. There was another man who had
something to do with it, whose name is Blanch—
ard—you know him, J wok—one of the best fel-
lows m Texas. Whatever happens, Jim Blanch-
ard must not be hurt.”

“ Remember to point that man out when we

et ina fight,” said the captain. “Does the
Indian' wish to go now!”

   

 

hag trot as, much as their horsssw(" 2d bear

Black Feather inclined his head in a stately
manner. .

“Comanche,” said Hardin, speaking in the
Indian tongue, “we are at war, but you and I
cannot be enemies. Remember that if the time
ever comes when I can help you, in any man-
ner, 15you have only to speak and I will do it.”

“ white brother is wise,” said Black
Feather. “If all white men were like him
there would be no war between the Comanches
and Texans. Is Black Feather free to go?”

“ Certainly; I am not the man to detain

ou.’

The Indian going into the bushes brought out
two horses, and placed the lariat of the nest in
Ned Clayton’s hand.

“ See, my brother,” he said; “ Black Feather
gives you this horse, that you may not forget

rm.

f we meet in battle, let the man who is '

bravest slay the other and take his scalp. Black
Feather has kept his word.

“I will never seek the sea] of the son of
Single Hand,” replied Ned. “ n the contrary,
If we meet in battle let us fight some other
man rather than strike at each other.”

“it is good,” said Black Feather. “The son ,

of Single Hand will not strike at the bosom of ,

the man who is his friend.”

He sprung into the saddle, waved them a
stately adieu, and rode away at full speed
across the plain, until a roll in the prairie hid
him from sight. The rangers again took the
trail and rode for ten miles without meetin an
enemy, but the trail freshened as they proce ed,
and preslently the scouts in advance came back
at a op.

“ ere they come, Cap; they make dust
enough for an army.”

Captain Hardin called his men to a halt and
dashed forward to the top of the rid . Some
distance in front he could see a bevy of men
advancing, seemingly five times the number of
his own force, but a second "lance revealed the
truth. The were driving ocfore them a great
cavalcade o ‘ horses, fastened together by means
of lariats.

“They have struck up some much,” he cried.
“ Back, men; we can find a better ground ihan
this to attack them.”

The rangch silently drew hack, ard, conceal-
ed from view by the clouds of dust. raised by
the advancing drove of horses, took ilu ir station
behind a thick growth of bushes in order for a
charge. Each man sat with his rifle upon his
knee at the full cock, ready for action at a mo-
ment’s notice, their pistols charged. The caval—
cadc passed on, and as they came abreast of the
position of the rangers, a withcring,r volley v as

poured in before which many of the (.‘oman-'

clics bit t 10 dust. A wild charge f ollowed. ace

coin mined by yells which Would have shumcd.

the ndian war— cry. This sudden uiiack, com-
ing from a quarter whence they leusi expected
it, took the Indians by surprise, and, before
the had recovered, the rangers were u )on them
am the pistols had begun their dradly work.
To add to their confusion, the long lines of cap-
tured horses wheeled and darted buck among
them, throwing them into the utmost confusion.
Unable to extricate themselves from the press,
the red-skins were shot down without mercy,
and when the smoke of the battle rolled awav
many bloody corpses cumbered the gory sod,
and onlv a small number, and many of these
wounded, had managed to escape.

The surprise had been so complete that the
loss of the rangers was ver slight. One man
onl * was badly wounded an several others had
fies -wounds, not one of them so severe as to
disable the sufferers. The rangers scattered
about the plain, enga ed in the duty of scalp-
ing the dead, for the exans imitated the sav-
a e foe in this respect and the trophy had the
additional value of drawmg a bounty.

When this was done they began to collect the
scattered horses.

not dismoun after the battle nor taken part
in mutilatin t e dead, although the? re rded
it as the legitimate result of an In ian ttle.

As the ca tured horses were brought in the cap-
tain sta and turned pale, for he recognized
his mark, and knew that the animals had come
from his own oorrals. He looked south and saw

a thick black smoke rising above the next roll

in the prairie.

Captain Hardin and Ned had I

“My God, Joe, these are my horses. Leavo i

five men to collect them and come on, for they
stl'il‘ltfk  ranch!” be ed fin

e o ranger o y after satisf g 'im-
self that none of Tom Duke’s force were ariilon
the slain and that Single Hand had esca
The distance to the ranch was a little over
seven miles. and they went on at 9. ion , sling-

\ ,,i

  
  

    

  

 

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after their late exertions. As they went they
saw evidences of destruction on every hand.
Stock—huts and corruls were in confusion, the
gates down. and here and there the body of a
Mexican herdsniun sculped and gory could be
such. The rtout ca \tuiu groaned in agony. A
moment more and lilo would know the worst,
for only one ridge lay between him and his
ranch—~the houu- where he had been happy so
long. The pure lilo); \xx-re going His uoi'c
trmnenslous. uni :14 1":e_\‘ reach-.1 the crest ol'
1:711) slope :1 er}: ol ‘r‘fl’i‘l'ZLlillll lllli'bl from (-v 
1.3).
The iron-h lift lwl'ore illz‘lll, but in ruins. :url
' .‘ l'm-u 1h” burn '
 .!l ‘h was :iliu of o :. ' 

.:<?z :i'; the iox'vls lino 
Hi!” -3 down lln' " , (-|.~. o,-
' \“it'; Il‘lrhf

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rho rm ‘;-|.;'r'I;1:,u~a'ii.

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I".’:l.‘.l“. hm z-v/“v'e. Wis l'fir"-\‘.'i'-.21lu~~l.":iti.<'.::ii
guys I r liL".‘ l» :1 Ill «:mlru‘. ;' ;:'I‘o'x::. Hun .«-i‘~
el :i,, “ll o'I lira sol :m'l unions: the luu lfl‘nnl

. 1 Z ' .. ' - r
l.‘,- 13"”; on" n “I Mr ‘ ivlnus Ll

Hon: *. in} doubt,l-i‘.‘ll-:lv:;171fl-:-
will :. borurnl oul ol' lhc :cmlm:
' his xii-1‘] "
'lsIXHAi \\ ill) thw :'< 'ul.’
{.mlll Hull" ‘. :1‘. w \‘lli'tii'. in? H 'l
bow:i<loioizi'~e1'lo:za
‘r-iu-l lfii'lllV lllIrT‘ilplL‘.

(,1’hi“.l'l,rl.. ' l l Hille laying; his
hmvl rap-urn hi»: shoulder. " Hear up like u lll‘l‘l.
1 kunw .'I::x‘ Tom liulw‘xould not :xllow your
\l’ll'“ l.» b- killed; incl. Wris not his plan."

" You ihiu': she is z: primncr, thent“ cried the
captain. '..‘.‘l"’,"‘f‘l)'.

.E‘Ct‘l‘trlllll). and that no doubt is the remon
he sepurnloz! from the ludiuus. llo hull l'ound
that you were gone, and would no doubt ('olm‘
back on the east side of tho gulch, and he had
no wish to meet you. We will run him to earth
and get the lzuliw: buck, or die trying it. \‘(hni
do vou suy. men?“

The rangers set up :\ stunning cheer, and :1
hopeful expression passed over the face ol" the
captain.

1‘ Then Isweur chcr to turn back from the
pursuit while lil'c lasts, until my dear ones are
saved. You are with me, boys; let us see what
old rangers can do.
the horses. pick out fresh ones, and away again
on the trail.”

It was no sooner said than the party were.
again in motion, headed back toward the plain
Where the few remainng stockmen were. gather-
ing in the scattered animals. As they rode
along a faint voice called to them from some
bushes by the Wu side, and little Pomp, the
house—waiter, bleeding from a. wound in the

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snv‘txjv l3.
suio' ‘ l '3
01' ‘14:.»
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thigh, crawled out to meet them.

“ Oh, massa, dear match, on come too late.
Dem ragin’ debbles done too ' ’Rie ’v;ay,
:ley did!"

‘ Who did?” ‘

“Dem robbers an’ Injines. Dey come altoged-
der, an’ kill Pete and Eph and Jake Snyder, and
dem greasers, and tote Missee ’Rie ’way on a
boss; I see’d ’em.”

f‘ That is proof positive that I was right, cap-
tain,”',said Ned. “ \Vhich way did they go,

Pomlp?
“ e _ tuk up de wes’ side ob do valley, Morse
Ned; lS chile see’d ’em.”

Ned dismounted and looked at the boy’s
wounded thigh, washedvit in spirits, bound it up
and told hlm to lie down in the shade and they
would send the stockmen after him. When they
reached the corral they found the men assing
1n the animals, one by one, and after picking out
fresh horses and givmg the men their instruc-
tions, the ran ers rode awa upon the trail of
Tom Duke. 09 to him an his rufllan band if
they were overtaken I _

Lillian passed the hours before da in ridin
with Coral through the chaparral. yHer hearfi
was more at ease, for Coral had whispered to her
that Ned had escaped, and that she would aid
her at the. first op rtunit . No such chance
came, however, for om r e close beside them,

every movement, and it was literally
e for the irl to get away.
' , they reached the

'b
bout three in t a mo

‘ 7. Indian cam ,and the ban t chief gave them

blankets an told them to lie down until he call-
ed them, but in arderto insure their safety, he
' ‘ - guardcvorthem both, laughineg saying

It

 

 

[rt us ride back and meet'

,~‘::('il oiln-r‘r: :ll‘i'Lw‘, :oul 1-;1

Single Hand.

    

13

 

 

that Coral needed watching as much as Lil—
liun.

“ Have you lost confidence in me, then, Tom?”
said Coral, sadly.

“i won’t soy that, my dear Coral," he re-
plied; “but ion on» too soft-hearted for this
wicked world, and have taken a fancy to this
youngr ludy. Under the circumstances, und in
consideration of the fact tlmt one prisoner hus
(swiped already, I lhihk ii safest to put :1 guurd
nmr you. Your cycs’ffight close accidentally,
and this girl gel/:1\‘.':i_\‘.”

(‘olel turned away with a sinking heart. and
ilr-hso lll‘l‘lllllilili \‘unzu‘n layoowu. \\j';1[}'-(li11

lhll .“ll “ritull. I". lll‘.l

' 1711*)".‘rv1‘r‘ l‘fllh‘rl. 1:1,) llm rump nus in motion,

 

    

 

   

*«l llu- In. on: aim mi, \“r W H" i to my; their
-m~lu' H-nl. ‘.'.l'Ei~ ilr- \xer: making
..24n‘<*tl.iinl'.‘21w[ll'("\:li‘;!lizill<ill/1‘i,-l‘(‘.lx.i':l:~l.

(ford! mu! lollizzn arose and sol .1l-out prepar-
il‘jJ ltw‘l for l lwinst-lvz‘s. :uul \‘x'l on it was dour,
.. '-minu-overnualjoinulilw1:1.

“ We are in :1 hurry, this inorni
:m'l \- ill‘. your ilt'l'llllni‘lll)” l Valli
ln'v:|ll:‘.:‘l."

" Wu ro are you solo:
“ You mi hi, ‘o-ll me 1’ .

“l mil/M,” he ri-plfwl. lullrhizur: “but, on
l'l2o\'.i1olt.-, i think l \\'i.l not do w. it is ::
of business lu-llci' kcit lroui “our-us curs. You
\\iil l-'Ho'.\' moon enough. To—r’iuf my revenge
will be, cowl-hie, und then good-by 1o 'l‘Lxus
fort-Yer and u day l"

"‘-.’ourel'u~.e Lo giro use your ('Uzllhlonz'v,
sni.‘ ('oml.poii1lly. “ I did not ildul; lhd‘. true
would \‘\'(‘.'l'()l|ll'.u

" Nor l. Feral. You do not know \\ his 1 re—
fine to tell you lhis, but, one (l;._\’.l will unike
my helium; good lo you. \Yhzu is that \t:u
l!;l\'v-—<‘H.i'm-.’ (live, 11b" :1 cup, for I ;:;u very
thirsty.”

"l will ask you no more questions," stud (‘o-

‘ _,:l,. .
lllill Wm

 

( ‘< :rnl .

..1 you at

 

 

1‘, Tom.” nan-:1 (final.

  

Eill',

‘V

‘ rnl. donning: herself up proudly.

“ That is just us well. my dear. 1 do not pro—
prose to be pumle in the presence of company,
you may be sure of that. Give me a rib of that
Venison: thanks.”

(-‘ornl understood now, lhnt he refused to
spark r-u account or Lilliun‘s presence, and said
no more. When their hasty meal was concluded
they wcrc helle to the saddle, and the whole
party, accompanied by the Indians, rode away
to the south with scouts spurring to and fro
upon oil her flunk, to warn them of the approach
of an enemy. In this order they proceeded un-
til the smoke of Hardin’s Ranch could be seen
:i‘~ove the ridge, when the en )tniu called a halt
and held a consultation with higle Hand.

“ I leave the stock-yards and men about them
to you. chief,” he said. “ As for the house—ser-
vants, it will be no trick to attend to them with
my: own men.”

he chief nodded gravely.

‘ ‘ Where shall we meet again when the work
is done, my brother?”

“At the place where we camped last night.
As soon as you have killed the stockmen and
taken the horses, drive them away, and we will
follow and overtake you by the time you get to
the camp.” \

The arrangement pleased the chief, as by it
he would have the most valuable portion of the
spoils in his own hands. The outlaw rode back
and s ke to Coral.

“ on will stay here with a guard of five men
Coral. Keep the girl with you, for I do not
wish her to see the destruction of her father’s
house, much as I hate him. Davis, Belton,
Flo d, Timpson and Dean, ride out of the
ran s.”

The men thus called by name obeyed orders.

“ These ladies are in your charge, he s. In
case anything happens to us, you wil make
what speed you 'can to the old place in the North—
west range. Davis is in command of the detach-
went.”

“I Wish you would give me charge, captain,”
said Jim Blanchard. “ I am not particularly
struck after this businem you are about to do; it
ain’t in my line.”

“Just as on like Jim. Davis, come back
into dth,e ra s,and‘l31ancha.rd will take com-
man .’ -

Lillian was pleased at the change, for the
frank manner of Blanchard had won with her
from the first. She knew that a deadly peril
hung over her old home, but she could see no
way to avert it.

_ ‘ I will not waste my breath in idle entreaty,
811‘,” she said, but may God deal with you as
you do with me and mine.”

“‘Onm headbe it,’” was the laugh'mg re-

ply: “ inboys; forward.”
he outlnws W*advance. and the

 

 

 

 

Indians followed at a slashing pace—the latter-
turning,r to the right and left to attack the horse
corrnls. The white men dashed down the road
and never drew bridle until they reached the
ranch; which was already in confusion. The
faithful house—servants, sprung at once to their-
arms, closed the doors and windows, and pre—
pared to defend the place to the. last.

“Curse the black thieves!“ suid Duke. “ They
will make us trouble. after all. and no one sus-
pected them of lightingintenlions. l.>ismonnt,
boys: leave the usual horse—guards and make a
rush."

The negroes in the house Vrre Well urinal. for
lhchousewns at all times a perl'wi' ni‘s'onul,
lasing llu‘ Ith'lll’qlllll'll‘l'H ( i" the l‘;lilj.“l‘ls'. The
pt ople in lhw buildliwj in re 1nd: 7' ll;'- Munroe oi
.lrlce Stiylvr, :1 ;' hill" 1'. ‘ To. \‘rho lfllitil‘il
Lylllll' thing of his lighting: 5 :ltll: .Tzo Hut.

“ '\. on  in do collar, 3.. - “ilk  he said.
\"(w light l-,= do lus’ druo oi our blood for
33:11.” '

“ Mfr l~rnw~ Fl-l‘vst.“ cried ,‘2l1'<.l'r“.l":lil. " You
\"ill only V. ‘-\‘<“.;r liloul o: \::.:a "

“Mal ~ 1' You. iz'lu~ us. l“; -
llwiu‘ t-uuli'. (1e mmvso l-- ..h 1“
hi 1p, l-‘odmvn roller. (,12411"

She ('lu‘.\"“1 1mm in. . :.:~ ihv r ull:1\\:- :uullc u
(ll‘ll-l‘lllllll ll l‘llril 1:1 l'4-"~’~. in \\l.izh They
xxx-renobh llu't llf‘ lll(‘ lxl:;~l-: , Ylllli‘». mul for
a lime held in check. lint. :mm \..‘ 'e rounding;
upon doors :oul \‘v'imlows. \\ hiwh \‘ 1 re soon ln'ok
ondouu. und the while 5(1er l: wrun-swarming
in. \‘Chfh- crowded into hr upruuiu‘ ol' the
(rod lv:.:l, the neurols lirevl it ,gl-tlu r. ranting
lirezuilul slaughter, urv'. tin-u rl-trmmd lo lhc
door of the m-llnr, and. Logan to re}: :L-l l uslily.
l‘mu'l'ul that ii !‘\’ unuin lire :~;_:niu. lillilo or»
dew-<1 :1 rmh at llu;m. when ilmx' ('llllllmll their
rtilrs 2“.“rl for n time kept 1h:- 1" ~ :zl buy. Jake.
fought like 11 Paladin, zunl Leo oi" 1va outlaws
hurl l'ulh‘u under lh‘ swu p. «.l' iris ;~.v\\'l-i'i'::lzil'n1,
when 'i‘om Duke duw a pistol and lifted it cure—v
lessly.

“(live yourselves up, you black devils,” he
hissed.

“ No," shouted Pete; “ We die (11:?

“ Take that, then, to end your folly." said
Duke. The )istol came to a. IeVel, the hammer
fell, and tholbravc negro dropped, sipot through
the heart. l'lis fall dislnuirtmwd the rest, and
though they still struggled, it was not long be.-
fore they were beaten down, man by man, and
the ranch was captured.

“Throw the (-zn'rion away from that door,”
cried Duke. “ Remember that the man who
harms Mrs. Hardin dies by my hand."

The bodies of the negroes and those whom
they had stricken down were thrown aside, and
Tom Duke entered the cellar, followed by some
of his men. Mrs. Hardin had heard enough to
convince her that the blocks had resisted nobly
but the sudden pause in the tumult told her the.
they had been conquered, and she advanced to
meet her enemies.

“1 give myself up,” she said, proudly. “D!
with me as you wil .”

Tom Duke averted his face and ordered her to
ascend the stairs before him. Villain as he wan
he could not meet the glance of the pure eyes of
the woman he had loved vainly but well, years
before—at least not yet. Two men took her in
charge and led her out of the house to the rear
of the horses, where they waited orders. In the
meantime those of the servants who had not re-
sisted, women and boys, were brought out, tied
two and two and conveyed to the rear. Then,
b the orders of Duke. a quantity of combusti—
bl; material was ilcd in a small closet and he
set fire to it with us own hand.

“Hardin will come back to a ruined home,”
he muttered. “Oh that he could only know
whose hand had de t the blow!”

He left the house and watched the curth
flames gradually ascending the wooden wal ,
and lapping up the li ht material and sending
up a c car flame with ut little smoke. An ex—
pression of horrible delight crossed hls face.

“ My work is done,” he cried, “and now hull»
rah for Mexico!”

The outlaws mounted and fell back a little,
carrying with them every portable article
of value which they had found within. the build-
ing. Mrs. Hardin, with her face buried in her
bands, was weeping as if her heart would break
when some one touched her on the shoulder, an
she looked up to see Tom Duke standin beside
her ointin with demoniac glee at the inming
building. she saw his face she uttered a cry
of surprise and horror and started back.

“You, Elwood! Had you the heart to do this
terrible crime?”

“My work, mine !” he answered. “I told

 

   

 

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" H nu to our

,v
lijl‘

 

 

i"

yoiglongagofio remember me in the time to

    

  

 

14

 

u

come. I‘v'hen I was driven out, a friendless and

homeless outcast, with a price upon my head,

my promised wife given to my enemy, my for-

tune in his hands, I warned you to keep me in-
mind, for one day I would have revenge.
have it now, and it is sweet.”

“It may be sweet to you, Marmaduke El- ‘

weed, but your cruel heart has conceived a
w IL'IICtl slnnzler when you say that Hardin ever
wronged you.”

“L‘urses— Bah! IVhy should I waste time

I

in talking of him now, in the moment when my 7

revenge is complete! He shall know that I
have avenged the wrong done me, but, as for
you, you shall never see his face again. Boot
and saddle, boys; take the west side of the
gulch and forward 1” .

A horse had been provided for her and she
rode away with the hand of Duke Elwood—
Tom Duke—upon her bridle-rein. His eyes
shone with a strange triumph, and yet there
was a sort of pity in them too.

“If you had kept faith with me,” he said,
slow] *, “all might have been well. Say that I

kille a man Who had insulted me—what of
that! Neither had deserved better at my
hands.”

“ You wrong me still; I never promised to be
your wife."

“No; but you had half-promised when this
noble cousin of mine, James Hardin, came to
Baton Rou e. There, say no more; on are
married an my wife is yonder, but I w' I finish
my revenge all the same.”

“ W hat will you do '6”

“You shall know in the future, and when I
have revealed your fate to you, I doubt not that
you will say that I know how to avenge a
wrong.”

At this moment they were joined by Coral
and Lillian. The sweet child sprung from the
saddle and hurried to meet her mother, but
Duke Elwood interposed.

“No, no; not by any means. Stand back, my
little beauty, for you shall not touch her hand.”

Coral heard what he said, and the old furious
Spanish blood sprung into new life as she thrust
tim resolutely back. '*

“Stand back you, Thomas Duke! I tell you
that the child shall go to her mother, whether
you are pleased or not.”

He looked at her fiercely, and half—raised his
clenched hand as if to strike her, but changed
his mind. bursting into a strange laugh, and
looking at Lillian already locked in her mother’s
arms.

“ You will go too far with me, one day, Cor-
al,” he said. “I love you, but my love is not
of the texture which endures every thing.
When this foolishness is ended, put that girl
back on her horse or I will  her in an un-
welcome way.” ’

Lillian withdrew from her mother’s arms and
mounted her horse again, her face suffused in
tears; the cavalcade went up the valley by the
light of the burning ranch.

CHAPTER XIII.
A LIFE FOR A LIFE. '

AT the time when the rangers were engaged
in the battle with the band of Single Han , the
outlaws were about ten miles to the east, near
enough to hear the sounds of the battle. Duke
I]le smiled satirically, and said to Blanch-
ar :

'It was a good thought of‘ mine, sending the
indians away with the cattle. I was tolerany
certain that they would fall inwith the rangers,
and get trounced, and in doin so delay Hardin
in his return to the ranch. urry up the men;
nie_ne,ed not think to fight them on this open
p am.

Blanchard turned somewhat sullenly and
shouted the order to the arm. The pace became
t brisk trot for none of them had an wish to
all in with the rangershalthough, ' 6 most
nen, they would fight we when driven into a.
.orner. Three hours after they reached 9
verge of the Chaparral and plunged into
depths. Mrs. Hardin, Lillian, Coral and Duke
Elwood were among the last to enter, the first
two reluctantly enough, for they knew how
hard their rescue would be when once they
Were in the depths of the forest.

“Leave all hope behind as ou enter this

.ace ” said Duke Elwood. “ hink that you

ve looked for the last time upon your us-
band’s face, Maria, for on shall never see him
more. You are doom to a life which will be
some revenge for all that I have suffered.”

Maria ,Hardin answered him by a. look of
proud disdain, and he ordered her savagelyto
ride on. She obeyed without a word and fol-
lowed the band by devious paths to the deep

 

 

 

fastncss in the Chaparral, not the one which

they had formerly occupied, but another far

more remote from the reach of helping hands.
Duke assisted them to descend and led them

I i to a simple but of boughs, which he ordered

Coral
‘K I

them to enter 1) ' a wave of the hand.
alone remained without.
“A word wrth you, husband,” she said.

have always IoVed and honored you, but it can i

not be that you mean to take Vengeance upon
two weak women for the offense of another!
You have desolated their home; is not that
enough for your”

“Silence, Coral; follow them into the but,
and see to it that I hear no more from vou upon
the subject. This is my business, and ‘ will not
allow you to interfere with it, in any
way-n

She said no more, but turned from him with a

lookwhich he had never seen u >011 her face he-
fore—a look which spoke of re ‘llion and defi-
ance.
“I fear that I shall be obliged to give my
dear wife a lesson,” he muttered; “and if I
would not have all my plans frustrated, I must
see to it that she does not have too much chance
to aid them.”

He instructed Bennett to set a guard over the
prisoners, who were placed under his especial
care, and to watch Coral as close as the rest.
Two men were then sent through the Chaparral
to the place apixnntcd as a rendezvous with the
Indians, asking Single Hand to join him in his
new camp. It would take at least two hours to
go and return, and in the mean time something
must be done to guard against the approach of
Hardin, who would be sure to follow them.
Ambushes were set at various points upon the
devious road to their place of refuge, but as yet
the rangers did not ap ear.

 

Beadle’s Half-Dime Library. -

 

Afi I I. .77.. I" v A ___W 7# ._._._“7_____

prove to you, before the day is done, that I do
not love her now.”

“ You are going to send them away, then?”

“ After today, no civilized man will ever see
their faces again. I am going to give them as a
[mace—offering to Single Hand.”

It was only by a strong effort of her will that ,

this wonderful woman restrained herself. The
plan was too horrible, and for a moment she al-

3 most doubted the evidence of her senses.

 

Blanchard made .

an offer to go to the hi ing-place of the women ‘

who belonged to the band, and convey them
safely to a
picked up w en the party left the chaparra
thus leaving the prisoners without a friend.
Duke Elwood was glad to ret rid of him, for he
feared that he did not ta 8 kindly to the duty
of o ) rossing women.

“ ere goes our last friend,” said Lilly,
saw him depart through an opening in t 1e

who
hut.

“I confess that I had a hope that he would aid ,
’7

“ I don‘t believe that he will desert you,” said
Coral. “Dear lady, I wish you would teach
me to be a good woman. I have been badly
taught all my life, and I fear that I love my
husband too well, but I can not—I can not aid
him in wronging you.” .

“ I believe that you will be true to us,” said
Mrs. Hardin, “ but I fear that you are too out—
spoken in your words. If you could seem a lit-
t e colder to us, it would be better pcrha s.”

“ It is hard for me to feign,” said Cora , “ but,
as you say, perha s it would be better. Here
comes in husban ”

Duke lwood entered the but and told Coral
to leave it for awhile.

“Madam,” he said, after his Wife was gone
“I have come to tell you what disposition I
propose to make of you. My ally, Single Hand

as suffered heavily in the fighting 0 the last
few days, and I have reason to beliove that all
his plunder has been retaken by the rangers.
Some amends must be made him, and there is
but one course open for me. You shall pay my
debt to the chief.”

“What can you mean Duke Elwood? I do
not understand your words.”

“ Then I must endeavor to explain. You
shall be given to the chief as his wife. Your
daughter shall accompany you, to be disposed
of as the chief shall see fit.” .

“Oh, coward! villain! traitor to every good
and true thing!- You can not mean what you
say' it is too horrible I”

‘I will prove to you that I do mean it, before
the day is done. Messengers have been sent
to the chief, and in an hour or two, at most, he
will be here ready to claim you. When he has
done that, am off for Mexico satisfied that
my work in Texas is com leted. There; I do
not propose to handy wor with you, but you
know our fate.”

Ho ed (finickly from the hut?1 leaving the
two prisltlmers uxnbstriltikeili1 at the orri‘plecvgfi
gcanco 9 pro . s 9 passed on , o

ut her hand his arm and walked smilineg
y hil side throu the camp.

“I am afraid was a little ous of you,

'lll‘om,” shek said,i1 ' 'i “It 'd noiser to
on on cap 680 nsoners, or you ve eon-
fez-01th“ you loveers. Hardin once.”

“I: that aur’he said, laughing. “Thai on
mutatyour htthhnflotrakfor Iwfll

 

point where they could be easily 3

 

“ Is not that too dreadful, husband? Take
them to Mexico, and put them in a convent;
the could never get out of that.”

Life shook his head slowly. “I have thought
of that, too, but the priests might ask some awk-
ward questions. No, this is the only way to get
rid of them entirely, and I will leave it to Sin-
gle Hand. There, rim away, little one: be as-
sured that I love you as much as ever.”

She stood for a moment in the same position,
looking wildly after him.

“ I will save him from this horrible crime,”
she murmured. “He is insane upon this one
point. Let me think it out.”

She went away by herself and sat upon a
great tree in (190 thought. While in that si-
tion, Single Han and a small party of In ians
passed her swiftly, on their way to the
cam .

“ he red scoundrel has come to claim them,”
she thought. “ What can 1 do? oh, what can I
do to save them?”

Single Hand came on, his dark brows over-
cast, and he met the gaze of Duke Elwood with
a fierce glance.

“ Here am I, Single Hand, chief of the Com-
anche. The prairie is red with the blood of my
brave men, and my belt is without scalps. You
promised much, and you have given me nothing,
and now why have. you sent for me?”

“ Who can tell what the future may bring
forth?” re lied Elwood. “It is not my fault if
you met I ardin and were beaten.”

“ Why was not my brother there with his
men, to strike beside Single Hand and drive the
white rangers into the gulches? My brother is
not fond of fighting, himself, but he is willing to
let his red brothers fight for him.”

Conscious guilt for a moment roddenod the
cheek of the outlaw, for he knew that the chief
had spoken truly, and that the Indianshad been
sent back on the old trail simply that they might
meet the rangers. But the native assurance of
the bad man came to his aid.

“ The chief wrongs his brother,” he said.
“How could I know which way the ranger!
would come? They mi 'ht have met me—they
(lid meet you. It is in t 0 hands of fate.”

As he s oke, the rattle of arms was heard far
awa to 1: 16 West.

“ ‘ighting is going on in that direction, chief.
We must leave this place, but first let me show
you the offerin I have to give on.”

The chief f0 owed him into t 1e cabin, and he,
pointed to the sinking women.

“ They are yours,” he said; “all I ask of you
is that they may never return to Texas.”

“It is well,” cried the chief, eager] . “ My
brother has redeemed all, and Single and be-
lieves him a true man. The white women will
prepare to follow the steps of Single hand.”

“ Away with them, chief, and we will follow,
for the rangers are not far away!” cried Duke,
im atiently. .

he chief advanced to seize upon the frighten-
ed women, when Coral, almost beside herself
with grief, ran in and presenteda pistol to the
head of the Comanche. -

“Stand back!” she cried. “ Lay a finger upon
one of them again and you are dead.”

“ What do you mean, Coral?” hissed Elwood.
“Death! do you knew what you are trying to
do? Have you lost your senses?”

“The shall not go with that brutal savage,”
she rep ied, in the same fierce tone; “nothing
save death shall drive me from them.”

He sprung upon her, seized her fiercely by the
wrist and wrenched the weapon from her hand.
At the same moment came the char ing cheer
of the rangers, who, 'ded by Jim glanchard,
whose departure been reall to warn the
whites, poured in upon the astonished outlaws,
who, caught like rats in a trap, were beaten
down, man by man. .

The sudden onslaught had taken them all by

rise, and they were swept away before the
ms of the now furious ran rs. Contesting
eve inch of ound, Duke wood andSinglo
Han , with a ew faithful followers, hard pm.-
ed by Ned Clayton, Captain Hardin Prairie Joe
and Jim Blanchard, were forced back to the
door of the but, where the women were com
ceded. In that moment Corollhowed thatha'

love for her husband was www.1qm r

 

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Single Hand.

1.6

 

 

spnmg in between him and the weapons raised
against his life.

“ Ned 013. n, as we were once friends, s re
him. Blane ard, Evans, save his lifel e is
beaten; he will give up.”

Single Hand saw that all was over, and heav-
ing up his mighty ax, rushed headlong into the
midst of the foe, who parted like water before
him, and then c sod in on every side. A mo-
ment of wild .mnnotiou, weapons flashed,
blows were struck, and Single Hand lay (lead
in the midst of the crowd, With three dead
rangers at his feet.

Duke Elwood sprung back, a pistol in each
hand, just as Lillian and her mother appeaer
in the d )orway. Brought to bay the savage
naturo of the man came out, an: shouting a
fierce dciiance, he caught Lillian by the arm and
placed the pistol at her head, but Coral, striking
1t from his hand, pushed Lillian back into the
house, and placed herself before the door.

“Stand back, all of you!” screamed the des-

rate man. “ You know me now, James Har-
gian. I am Duke Elwood, your own cousin,
whom you robbed of all that makes life sweet.
I had my revenge in my hands, and she dares
to thwart me.” Vw

Even as he spoke he snatched a small dagger
from Coral’s belt, and struck her a quick, fierce
blow, aimed at her heart. She sunk gasping to
the earth, the blood bubbling from the wound.
Then placing the point of the keen weapon
against his own breast, he drove it sharply home,
and with a gasping sigh, fell dead at the feet of
his bleeding Wife.

“ Back, all of ou!” she cried. in afecble voice.
“Leave me wit in dead. He killed me, you
say; let it be so. would rather die by his
hand than live without him.”

She dragged herself forward a little and look-
led down upon the dead face. There was actual-
ly a smile upon it, and he looked grand in his
repose. She never moved, but spoke to that
dead man in tones of loving tenderness, which
went to every heart.

“Lie you there, my dear one, cold and dead?
Wait on the border of the river, and my soul
will join yours in your flight to that far-011‘
land. Lillian, come to me.”

Lillian bunt beside her, weepizg as if her
heart would break.

“I loved you, sweet one.” she said, “and I
(lied to save your life. Kiss a poor, lest we-
man, and pray for the rest of my unhappy soul.
Ned Clayton, to you we owe all this, but I can—
not blame you.”

“I would have died lo save your life,” sobbcd
Ned. “I nevor l()oked“‘f0r this sad end. Can
we not do something? You may not be so bad-
ly hurt."

“I shall be dead in a moment more. Lay me
with my husband in this sequestered place,
where no one will come to disturb our rest.
Farewell. Husband, I come to you.”

She threw herself upon the dead form of the
man she had loved, and with the effort her life
passed awa .

They laid this erring pair under the green
turf of the little glade, and not one in the wild
band but mourned for the beautiful wife of
Duke Elwood.

Of his past, little need be said. He was a.
cousin of James Hardin, who had loved Maria
Lascelle before she became the wife of Hardin.
A man of rare parts, but who led a. life of riot,
be forged his father’s name, and at last killed a
friend in a bar-room fi'rht. After that he fled to
Texas, at that time the city of refuge to all
criminals; and from that time his triends had
not heard of him. When he went away, he
breathed fierce invectives against his cousin, by
whose means he had been detected in the crime
of forge J and swore revenge when they met.

James ardin never had hated him—had giv-
en his evidence most unwillingly, but this was
nothing to the monomaniac, and when they met
in Texas the dormant passion of the man was
again aroused, and he began, through the medi-
um of Ned Clayton, that train of events which
terminated so tragically for him.

Black Feather, trusting to his action in favor
of the whites, came into the camp and asked
permissxon tocarry away the body of his father,
which had been (protected ‘from mutilation by
Ned Clayton an the ‘ant formwns borneaway
amid t e graves of the old-time
chiefs of the Comanche. The after
but ’ g the dead and searching out
c ed treasure of the band, directed by Jim
Blanchard, rode back to the decal-ted run
after aendmg apart; under Blanchard to
the women. and care or them. I

The treasure Which wqtonnd wt to: to

' _ ' Captain Hardin for u. 10-, and

 

before a month had passed, the family, who
had been living with a iriend some miles away,
moved into the new house, where Ned Clayton
was again domesticated, overseeing every
thing.

Jim Blanchard became a sub-overseer, and
his retty wife lived in the great house and was
m. e much of by Lillian.

The rest of the women scattered tovarious
parts, but old J inny was found and installed in
a place of trust, in the new house, where she
glorified the houses of Lascelle and Hardin to

or dying day.

Four years passed. Ned Cla ton was no
longer overseer for Captain Ham '11, but had a
ranch of his own, fin-ther u the valley, with
Jack Evans as ovcmcer.  has grown into
a fine, robust man, with a stunning mustache
and imperial, and is doted on by all the girls
along t 0 Rio Grande. But, he has been true
to his first love, and this year, when the harvest
was yellow and the fields groaning with riches,
he took to his home a fair young bride, for
whose sake he had done and sufl'ered so much—
Lilh'an Hardin.

THE END.

 

Beadle’s HaIf_-D_ime library.

HY “'ILLIAM 2'. EYRTER.

190 Dandy Dav-kc; 0". The Tim-rs of lllL'll Pine.
210 Euro Frank; or, Dandy Dnrke'a Go-l)own Yards.

BY “3 J. HAMILTDN.

68 The Red Rrot hurhood ; or. The Twelve Avengers.
66 Mingle “and; or. A Lila l3-r n Lilo.
7' Mud Tom “’entc-rn, the ’l‘l-xnn Hunger.

837 Ben erd. the Cure Kmu; or. Big l’ctu‘s Scoop.

RY (‘0LONliL DELLE SARA. ,

103 The Llon ol'tlw Sen: or. Thu Ynilell Lady.
[56 Cool l,c!lll0l|d: nr, ’1 ins Gambler's llig Hume},

RY MAJDR l.l1\\'l§ “'. CARSON.

27,8 1““. Three ’l‘rupperu: or, Tln- Mount 'lll Monster.
233 India" Joe; or, The Willie Spirit ol'thc H.115.

RY JDIIN J. MARSHALL.

40 “0"an “on. .-\ <lwrv of» Young American.
97 The (Dutluw lll’olllt‘ru: or, The (‘nptivc of the Harpu.

R\' G EORGIC (‘. JEN KS.
4.35 (lit Thur “Win-y lln- l'nlmown.
492 GM. 'l'lmr lhvm-y‘n Pledge.
513 The Demon Doctor.

RY C.\l’T. ALFRED H. TAYLDR, U. S. A.
191 lllllfrnlo Billy, the Roy liullwlmcker; or, The Doomed
'1' Hr; u-n.
194 l;ufl’“.lo “111'. “ct; or, The Gambler Guide.

BY HARRY ST. GEORGE.

30 Rout-Inn: Rnl h Rockwood, lll15R2\ngn‘r.

41 Rnttllu Ru )0: or. The Nighthawks of Kentucky.

59 Dld Hle ‘ory: or, l’nndy Ellis‘s Sonlp.
108 During "guy: or, 'l'ln- ’l‘rnil ol' the linrder Vl'oll‘.
166 Illckory llnrr ' g or, The 'l'rnppvr-llriundc‘s Spy.
172 Thunderbolt ‘omg or, [he \ 'nU-chler.

HY MAJOR HENRY B. STODDARD. Ex-Scout.

306 Neck-Tlc Ned; or, The Dug-Ont l‘urds.

846 “II ler Ihlphuel: or, The Swordsmcn ol'ZiicaLecu.

391 K“ -Glo\'u Kll, the Dandy Millie Rockies.

898 Kid-Glove Kit and l’urd: or, The Gold King.

406 The Mad Man-Hunter; or, The .‘lystery of Golden

Gulch.
505 Powell’s Purd; or, The One-Armed Giant.

BY ROGER STARBUCK.

25 The Roy Captain: or, The Pirate's Daughter.
114 The Black Schooner: or. Jib Junk. the old TM.
259 The Golden Har won: or. Lost Among the Floel.
848 Fire-Heel»; or, (lid Skinlunl. the Deannslmdnw.
854 I"; Horn Ike, the Illll Tramp; or, The Odd Pardl.
861 The Phantom nght-hou-c.
8?0 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner.

BY .10 PIERCE.

89’? Bob 0’ the Bowery: or, The Prince of Mulberry Street.
415 The Vagabond Detective: or, Bowery Bull’l Boom.
452 Ilotngur Bob. the Street-Boy Detective.

460 The .nwyer’u Shadow; or, Luke’s Legacy.

472 Jaunt‘y Joe, the Young Horse-King.

494 Kurly film. the Young Ferrymau Detective.

504 Five Polnt- Phil.

Jn gel-n, the Butcher Boy Detective.

516 Tartar ' Im; or. Five Points Pilil'l Menagerie.

526 horth River Nut. the Pier Demtlve.

588 .‘vreltlln Rex, the Prideofthe Sixth Ward.

541 Jelf Fllc 'er, the Slnble Boy Detective.

BY PHILIP S. WARNE.

6'! Patent-Leather Joe: or, Old Rattlesnake. the Chm.
175 captain Arlzonn: or. Patent-Leather Joe's Big Game.
1935 Captain Monk 3 or, Patent-Leather Joe’l Defeat.

’19 Denpurd. the Duelist: or, The Mountain Vumplrel.
868 A Tou h Boy: or, The Dwnri‘s Revenge.

863 thtle ‘ornado; or. The Outcast! of the Glen.

878 Little Jlngo: or. the Queer Pnrd.

883 Little (HI-my : or, Caught in His Own Trap. .

401 Little Shoo-Fly or, A Race for a Ranch.

408 Little Leather-l reel-hen; or. Old Jumbo’l Curio.
431 Little Ah Sin; or, The Curie of Blood.

451 Colorado Rate. A Tale of the allnel.

480 hm Jolly Fords.

517 J [m Gladden’a De utg.

587 The .1ko Purd- t e lie-cue.

 

RY ALBERT \\'. AIKEN.-

11 TINI Two Deli-ethos: or, The Fortunes ol‘a Bowery Glrl.
76 ADC Coll. llH‘ ('row Killrr.
fl! Sol (linger. llu- (iimll ’l ru'llu-l‘.
2113! Joe liuvl. ui'AIIgcln uml Ill-A Roy Paul.
‘1 I»? New 1 lll‘lx Nut. A Tale oi vl'l‘ii'ln :uld 'l'rnps in Gotham. ,_
45.1 No“ l'lufllnlul Nick; or. 'I'llv Fortunes ul'u Fuundling.
46 l N lllllbltI \lrl.‘ iln- (‘lrl l 8 Prince.
433 ’l‘no‘ 'l‘ml, lm- Arizona . rrl.
510 ('ool Colorado, 1hr Hn ~l€rwd Danika. .
515 Cool Colorado in New York. -

  

BY FRAN K DI'MDN T.

0 The Branded "and: or. Tin» Man of Mystery.

~ \"lld-Flro. lln- liosx :»l the Rond.

0 Blue "Inn-u: or, The l’m-nl. o‘ [My Boys of Rosky Bu.
Elton ' Dun; or, '| h» l(l\'nl Leuunes. '
o Evll Lye; or, The Vultures ul'tllc Rio Grande. ,

HY ICDH'A RD S. ELLIS.
6 Bill Blddon, 'l‘rluv wr. ’
8 Seth Jonon; or, '1' lr Cumin-s of the Frontier.
10 Na! Todd: or, Tn.» l’nle ol the Sioux Cnpuve. [
21 The Frontier Angel.

93 The Roy Miners: or, The Enclmntml Island. ’
182 The Hunted Hunter; or, 'l‘hr Strange Horseman. f
254 The Hull-Blood; or, '1 he Panther ol the l’lnlus.

271 The Huge Hunter; on The Stemn Prairie Mon.

BY GEURGE “'ALDD BRO\VNE.

86 "and _ .
90 The I rend Rider; or, The ’lexan Duelist.

Rock the Man from Tell.

99 The leor of Time: or, Dandy Rock’s AngeL ‘
115 The Mad Mlner: or, Dnndy Rock‘s Doom. T
181 The Golden Ilund; or, Dandy Rock to Hm Rescue. i
164 Dundy Rock’s Pledge: or. Hunted to Death. _ ‘
173 Dandy IKWR’S Rival: or, The Haunted Maid ol Two.

lBY CAPTAIN FRED. “'HITTAKER. at
F

15 The Sea-Cut : 0!, The “'ilch of Dnrion.
29 The Dumb Page: or, The Dow's Daughter.
46 Dlok Durllng. the Pony Express Rider.
150 IAIIH'C and Lanno: or. Th» (‘hildren of the Chum.
154 The fiwurd Hunters: or. The anl o(lhe Elephant Riders.
159 The Lost Contain; or, Skipper anez Collin’s Cruise to the
() u-n l’olnr Sen. _
.00 T 8 Roy Redoulnu: or. The Broilers of the Plumed Lance.”
21-1- “'oll'fluug. the Robber of the Rhine. V ,
249 Mllo Homer, the Animal King; ur,’l‘lle Round the World
Wanderer. ‘
265 The Tiger Tumor: or, The League of the Jungle.
831 IHIH'k Nick. the Demon Rider.
895 Calll'ornlu Joe‘s “'ur Trnll.

’

BY BL’CKSKIN SAM (Major Sam. 8. Hall.) {-

234 0h] Rocky’s “Boyce: :” or, Benito, the Young Hono-
Breaker.

246 (Hunt George; or, The Ang‘l nl tlw Range.

275 Arlzona Junk: or, Giant George's l‘urd.

29? The Tarantula 01' mm: or. Hinnl George's Revenge.

80? The Strange Paul: or, Linh- Ben's lh'uill Hunt. .

KIN Ker-whoop. Kcr-whoo: or, Tho ’l'nmnrnln of’l‘nos.

8'37 ('rcoplng Cut. the (‘uddoz or.’l'lle Red mnlWhue Fords.

332 li‘rlo Fri-(l: or, The Tonkuuny‘s Trust.

3 H The Flghllnx Trio: or. Rfllllk'snullt‘, tlm 'l‘l-nlmwfly.

349 \‘Vlld \Voll': or, Big-Fool “'ullnt'r to the lfrl M.

8.37 The Ranch Rnldern: or. The Siege of Port Purgatory.

86-1 Snap-Shot, the Roy Hunger.

375 (‘lIloln, the Creek; or. ’l'hr 'l‘lmu- Thunderbolts.

831 lhimlcrn “Ill: 0!. l‘irio l"r:ull( to [he l‘ront.

392 Romeo and the Reds: or. Tim Iii-lmzm‘red Ranch.

404 Little Lurlnt: or. l’x-can l'rie's lilg Rampage. ‘

414 The Dnlny from Downer.

42’? The Three Trullcrn: or, Old Rovky on the Rampage.

442 “1116' Bill: or, The Lynx ol'tlne Leoxm. I

455 Little Lone Star; or, The Belle of the Clbolo.

. w<_‘

1-.

l
l
l
MISCELLAN EDCS AUTHORQ.

4 The “'lld-Horoc Hunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid and .
Frederick “'hittalu-r.
9 Adventure: of Baron Hunt-banner]. l
12‘ Gulllver‘n Travels. By Dunn null.
14 Aladdin; or, The Vl'onderlul Lamp.
16 Robinson Crusoe. (‘27 illustrations.)
18 Sindbnd the Sailor. HIS Seven \oynzes. r
22 The Sea Serpent; or, The Boy Robinson Crusoe. By Jun

L-ms.

83 The Ocean Bloodhound; or, The Red Pirates of the
Cnrribl-es. My S. \V. Pierre.

86 The Roy Clown; or, The Queen of the Arena. By Frank
S F'

. mu.
8" Ned “'yldc. the Boy Smut. By Texas Jack.
51 The Roy Rifles: or, The Underground Camp. By Archie

C. irons.
95 The Rival Rovers: or, The Freelloolel’s or the Mississippi.

By LieulnCol. Huzeltine. ‘

[98 R obln Hood, the ()utlnwed Em]; orfl‘lle Merry Men ofGreen-
wood. By l’rul'. Gildersleeve. ,

105 (Md Rube, the Hunter; or, The Crow Captive. By Captain
llmnilton Holmes.

112 The Mad Hunter: or. The Cave of Dcnth. By Burton Sue. ‘

124 'l‘lppy, the Texan; or, The Young Champion. By George
GlePIon.

128 The Young Privateer; or, The Pirate's Stronghold. By ;
Hurry Cavendish.

148 lilmrp Sum ; or, The Adventures ol'n Friendleu Boy. By J. 4
Alexander Patten.

327 Dusky Darrell. Tm per: or, The Green Ranger of the Yel—
lowstmw. By Edward memn. ' v \I

261 Fergus Fem-naught tlla New 1 wk Boy. By Goorgol.

266 unit's... the Guide; mom-y Crockeu‘s Crooked Tull. ‘
B E l C. D. Warren.
293 denélzgw, the One-Eyed Trapper, or, The Maid of the CHI.
5 C l C tor-k. ~
8.1? i»i.§3£l.“p§l’l.', me Lively Lad from Lendvllle. By Ll..-
Alf 6 Th . .
888 "I‘elinemskyrelbefézxt‘lve: or, A Boy’n Fight for Lil.» md Hanoi.
B Muior Mickey Free. -
850 Ryed Ralph, the River Rover; or,The Brother’l Ro-
vengei By Neil Buniiiniiomm k n t u n A P M rm. ‘
. 8 he 9 oc V». y . . o
 gall-33:? T331; or, Ben’s Double Match. By George H. _
Merle. ‘
876 California Joe’s First Troll. By Colonel Thoma
Hover Monstery.
418 Bill Bombshell, the Clifl'Climber. By F. s. Winthrop. .
440 tht e Foxfooti the Gold Bowie Kid. By Arthur C. GM.
475 The Black Sh By John S. Warner. ‘
484 Comanche ch and Illa Three Invlnclbleo. B!
enry J. Thomas.
528 “'lzard-Arm, the Dead S rt. By Arthur F. Holt.
582 The Cowboy Duke. y dwln Brooke Fen-en.

A New que Every Tuesday.

The H lf-Dlme lerlry it for sale by an inundation h
0.0 per y, or an: by mail on receipt of six cent. each.

3mm m mus. puns-hm. ,
as wan.- sm... New 1...,

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