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Dakota Dan,

THE RECKLESS RANGER;
o
The Bee-Huntzrs’ Excursion.

BY OLL COOMES,
AUTHOR or “DEATH-moron,” arc.

CHAPTER I.
AN UNLUOKY RIDER.

SOUTHERN DAKOTA of the year 18—.

A cottonwood grove on the Keya Paha river,
some thirty miles from its conﬂuence with the
Niohrara.

Within that grove a score of persons were
assembled on a bright afternoon of a Septem-
ber day. All were Indians, with a. few excep-
tions. The ponies browsing near bore strong
evidence of having been severely ridden. At

DAN STARTED UP, CLASPED HIS RIFLE, A

 
one side was a noble-looking horse of the new
American breed, caparisoned with an Amer—
ican saddle and bridle. His sides were drip-
ping with sweat, his ﬂanks were white with
foam and quivering with over-exertion; his
whole frame shook under the throbbing of his
great heart; his nostrils were dilated and
steaming—he was panting with sheer exhaus-
tion.

In the midst of the group of Indians was the
master of that noble beast. His hands were
securely bound at his back—he was a prisoner.
His face was haggard and dust-begrimed, yet
wore a ﬁrm, determined and resolute look, that
at times seemed to awe the savage horde around
him. He was aman of some ﬁve and forty
years, of medium size, with a pleasant, yet
piercing dark-gray eye; a thin, angular face,
the lower part of which was covered with a
smooth, iron—gray beard. His hair was of the
same color as his beard, though closely crop-
ped, showing the outlines of a well-shaped
head. He was dressed in a citizen’s suit, which

 
was, of itself, evidence of his not belonging
upon the border.

The savages were all Yankton Sioux. Some
were in war-paint—some were not. Their
leader was a white man, at whose very book
and nod all seemed to act with humble obei-
sauce. He was a person upon whose face the
inner character was plainly written, It com-
bined every evidence of wickedness and subtle
cunning to be seen upon the dusky faces of his
coadjutors; and in every other countenance but
his, the prisoner could see a faint glimmer of
human feeling—a spark that he may have
kindled into mercy’s hopeful light, had it not
been for the cold, relentless look upon White
Falcon’s face.

White Falcon, as he was called by the In-
dians, and Donald Gray by his renegade asso-
ciates, was a man of some ﬁfty years,
judging from his seamed features, gray
whiskers and hair. But his movements,
voice, and physical powers were those of a
man of thirty; and between the two, the

c—ﬂ
NI) PEERED INTO THE GLOOMY SHADOWS AROUND HIM-

 
a?"

2 “ * Beadle’s Dime 

 
prisoner was left in doubt as to the man's age, but not as to
his villainy of heart. ‘

That morning, Jonathan Duncan had been thirty miles
north of where we now ﬁnd him a captive. He was cross-
ing the plain from the Missouri river, unaware of his proxim-
ity to danger, until he suddenly found that he was being
pursued by a band of Indians. He at once put his horse to
its utmost speed, feeling certain of his ability to outstrip 'the
Indians in the race; and he did so for a short distance, but
he had underestimated the endurance of the Indians’ ponies,
and after a race of a score ‘and a half miles, was overtaken
on the banks of the Keya Paha, where we now ﬁnd them
assembled. '

After he had been made prisoner, Duncan was subjected
to a series of blows, kicks and taunts, given to test his cour-
age and fortitude. He bore all, however, with unﬂinching
resignation, and by looks deﬁed the jeering horde around

“ The horse of the pale-face is fast, like the arrow; but
soon gives out. The ponies of the Indian are slow, but like
the bird, they can go a long ways,” philosophized a red-skin.

“ Well,” in a calm tone replied Duncan, “if that stream
had been behind me instead of before, I am inclined to think
the race would be going on yet.”

“ A poor excuse is better than none,” replied White Fal-
con, indignant at the prisoner‘s response.

" To be sure it is, mighty chief of the ﬁlthy Yankton
Sioux,” retorted Jonathan, With disdain.

“ You are disposed to regard your situation quite indiffer-
ently, stranger,” asserted White Falcon, “ but—~but-——"

“ But what, outcast of civilization?” interupted Duncan,
deﬁantly, anticipating some threat from the chief.

“Your insolent language shall be your death-warrant,"
afﬁrmed the chief. “ While our ponies are resting from
their hard ride, we shall endeavor to pass the time in trying
your power of endurance by ﬁre and blood-letting. And,
to begin with, I will see what you have of value or conse-
quence upon your person; then I will pass you over to the
tender mercy of my braves.

So saying, the renegade chief proceeded to search the per-
son of the prisoner, and his labor was not without reward.
In a side-pocket he found a small Derringer revolver, which
he at once appropriated. In another poeket he found a small,
time-worn picture-case. This he opened, and was almost
startled by the sight of the picture that met his eyes.

It was of a young and beautiful woman, but the style of
her dress and the worn and faded condition of the picture
was evidence of its having been taken years ago. For some
time the chief stood and gazed upon it. At times his eyes
wandered away with a vacant stare, and his brows contracted
as if he was trying to recall something from the shadows of
the forgotten past. In addition to the revolver and picture,
he found‘a note upon the captive hearing date of a few weeks
previous, and which read: '

“ JONATHAN DUNCAN, Esq:

“Dear Sirz—If your search proves unsuccessful in South-
ern Nebraska, don’t fail to visit the settlement on the Nio-
brara river in Southern Dakota I have some evidence of
the parties having drifted into that country. After along
and diligent search, we have found the picture so much de.
sired, and send it herewith. I hope it may prove the key

to your success. The reward has been increased to $10,000.
“ Your friend, ADAM."

“ Ten thousand dollars reward! Just so!” ejaculated the
chief, in surprise. “ I see ‘now, Jonathan Duncan, Esquire,
that you are some kind of a hound of the law, searching
for somebody for whom a reward is offered that ’d make a
poor Indian chief rich; and ma’be it will, for bless my
soul if I dOn‘t know where to lay my hands upon a young
lady whose «face is the counterpart of this picture. And. as

 
your friend Adam surmiscs, she is in the Niobrara settle-
ment. Is it the original of this picture, her father, mother,
brother, sister or child that you’re in search of 1 Is he,
or she, an heir or heiressi—or an escaped convict, or
what i”

“ Or What,” was the laconic reply of Jonathan.

“ Never mind, Squire Duncan,” replied the chief, placing
the picture and paper in his. pocket, “ we’ll fetch the truth
out of )ou pretty soon. Fire around one’s shins conduces to
veracity, and acts as a lubricator to one’s tongue. You can
choose between the ﬁre and the truth of the facts connected
with this picture and paper."

“ I have no choice, Sir Mighty Outcast,” replied Duncan.
“ You can set your pleasure.” .

“Then let my braves set the stake,” the villain said, ad-
dressing his warriors.

' A savage yell burst forth upon .the air, and a commotion
of. joy swayed the groupof Warriors. The wildest excite-
ment and activity pervaded the camp, all of which Jonathan
Duncan regarded with outward indifference. V His inward
fears, however, assumed painful proportions, for he had not a
doubt but that his fate was sealedwthat he stood face to face
with a horrible death. ' But he mentally commended his soul
to God and asked. for strength to bear his terture until death
came to his relief. He knew that a betrayal of fear, or an
appeal to the savages for mercy, would only be prolonging
his suffering.

He gazed around him—at the green trees overhead, the
murmuring river, at the slowly declining sun soon to be blot-
ted from his sightjforever. Then his gaze became ﬁxed upon
vacancy—he was thinking—perhaps of home—of bright faces
that were wont to grow . brighter at his coming. He hit his
lip to keep back the emotions struggling upward in his
breast. , '

The exclamation of aniIndian suddenly drew his attention
from these painful reﬂections.

The savages were in commotion, and for the time being,
their attention was diverted from their work by the appear-
ance of an object on the plain about half smile to the north-
ward.

 
O H A P T E R I I .
'rnn omens, pursues AND numnrrv.

TEE grove in which the Indians were encamped was but
a narrow belt of trees fringing the shore of the Keys Paha,
and as the view of the plain was but little obstruoted by
undergrowth, the savages eculd plainly see the object ap-
proaching over the plain; and they had ‘no difﬁculty in mak-
ing it, or rather them, out; they were a. man, horse and dog.

The man was walking and leading the ..horse, 'while the

' dog skulked with lowered head and tail at the heels of the

latter. They were moving very slowly and with apparent
dimculty, and as they drew nearer the red skins could see
that the horse was limping along upon three legs. The man
was white—this was easy enough determined by the Sioux,
long before he came close enough for them to discriminate
between, colors. He was coming directly toward the point
where they stood, and as he-came still closer, White Falcon,
as well as the prisoner, heard him suddenly break forth inga
song familiar to them, though a stranger to" the ears of the
chief. . ' ‘ '

All listened intently, and something like a smile, that

I came from a sting of remorse, swept over the face of the

renegade as he heard the singer trill forth, in hoarse, dis-
eordantinotes, the .. .. . , 

 
“Hal ha! ha!” laughed the chief, trying to dispel from
his mind some vague recollection of better days, “it‘s some
crazy tramp, or old religious fanatic. Well, we’ll have some
sport with him too, boys, for I see he's coming on a hoe-line
for this point. It may be he's coming to say grace for your
soul, Squire Duncan."

“ Better say it for yours," was Duncan’s reply.

The stranger came on, apparently enraptured by the music
of his own voice. He entered the grove and came on within
ten paces ot' the savages before he discovered their presence.
When he did, however, his singing ended with a doleful
squeak, and he came to a sudden halt. Throwing up his
han s in wild surprise, he drawled forth in a hesitating, woe-
begone tone:

“ Whoa, Patience and Humility! At last, at last, after
long journeying through the desert, we’ve struck the camp
of the Phillistincs!"

In obedience to the command of their master, the horse
stopped, and the dog squatted on his haunches at his heels.

A laugh 'burst from the lips of Gray and his followers.

Duncan glanced at the hold intruder in vain hopes that he
might recognize him as a friend, or one who had, in some
manner, the power to save him from death. I But the sight
that met his view was anything but one calculated to inspire
hope in a (lesponding breast. In fact the prisoner had never
looked upon a more wretched and pitiable specimen of hu-

manity than the being who had just halted in his pres-

ence.

He was a little, wiry-looking man of perhaps ﬁve and ﬁfty
years, with a thin, long face, a sharp, hooked nose, and
small, steel-gray eyes. His mouth was of unusual size and
encircled with a short, bristling gray heard. His whole face
was comical in its outlines, yet wore an expression of child-
ish simplicity. His eyes were the most remarkable feature
of the man. They were possessed of a strange mobility—-

now glittering with the keenness of' a hawk’s,’ ndw gl'ovving ‘

with the ﬁerceness of the tiger‘s, now beaming with the soft-
ness of a maiden’s—always relaxing into that dull, vacant
stare of one devoid of reason. L 

His dress was as old and antiquated as himself. On his
head he wore a coon-skin cap, to [which had been attached
the brim of an old black felt hat. His coat was the remnant
of a ﬁne black broadcloth garment; it was several sizes too
large for him, and hung upon him like the proverbial “ shirt
on a bean-pole.” The sleeves were rolled up, displaying his’
bony wrists, while the remaining half of the skirt rested
upon his heel. His pants were made of buckskin, but un-,
like the coat, were too small for him, they shortness of the
waist permitting his shirt to foam gracefully oQover the top.
One foot was encased in a moccasin, the other in an old
higlrtopped boot that he had doubtless picked up around
some military post.

He carried no weapons of any kind except a large, dull
jack-knife, which was evidence of his peaceful and harmless
spirit.

His horse was as sorry a locking creature as himself. It
might 'have been a quarter of a century old, judging from
appearance. It was raw-boned, long-legged and drawn up
almost‘iuto a knot. Every joint appeared to he stiﬁ, and
every limb crippled in some way or other. One of its fore
legs was wrapped in a bandage of old rags held in place by
strips of ﬁbrous bark. It was with the greatest diﬂicnlty
that it put foot to the ground; and when ordered to stop by
its master, it did so with evident pleasure. It dropped its
head and stubby tail, closed its eyes and stood and 'slept in
silence, totally indiderent to the presence of the savageS, or
the‘myriad of ﬂies that buzzed around. I

A rope answered the purpose of a bridle, and an old In-
died-blanket that ’0'! a saddle. M I‘ '

‘,./.

 
‘ Dakota Dan. « 3

 
The dog was a ﬁt companion of the man and horse. He
was a cross between the gray-hound and spaniel, though a

more abject and cowardly-lonking cur could scarcely be
found. With his head down, his tail between his legs, he
cowered at the heels of the horse, and closed his great, blood-
shot eyes and slept in peace.

“ Well, who are you that comes here singin’ like an es-
caped Bedlamite?" demanded White Falcon, in feigned
anger.

“Me? me?" demanded the doleful looking old tramp, in
great astonishment; “ why, man of sin, I’m the Oracle of ’
Peace come outen the East to proclaim the———"

“ The devil I" interrupted the renegade, savagely, “ you‘re
lying, man; you‘re some infernal old spy come sneakin’
round here in disguise.”

The chief had resolved to convey this idea, despite his be-
lief that the Oracle was crazy, for fear the man might have
been trying to deceive him. Insanity, however, showed it-
self too plainly on every feature to be mistaken in the char-
acter before him.

“ Harkee, man, to the voice of wisdom speakin‘ thro‘ years
of experience," the tramp replied, shaking his bony ﬁnger
reprovingly at Donald Gray; “ I come as you see me, plainly
clad—under no disguise. I come to plant the seed of Peace
and Christianity into the hearts of the red heathens of Amer-
iky. I’ve suﬁ'ered many persecutions of body and mind to
git here, and the strength of Patience, my boss yere, and old
Humility, my dorg thar, hev been sorely tried with long so-
journin’. But at last, at last we’ve ritehed the camp of the
henighted red man, and perchance a season of rest is come to
our weary bodies arter our pilgrimage."

“ Well, from whence came you?” asked the chief.

“Like John the Baptist, I came from outen the wilderness
of J udea.”

“ Indeed," replied the chief, to whom, and the other ren
gades, the tramp’s insane assertions had become amusing;
“ well, Sir Oracle, you look the worse oftthe wear and tear
of the trip.”

“ You speak truthfully, man of sin; and Patience, my
horse here, and Humility, my dorg thar, hev both been smartly
reduced 'in ﬂash and spirit—even more than me, for Patience,
my horse thar, has carried me ofttimes; while Humility, my
dorg thar, has guarded me all night from beasts of prey while
I slept, and that you mus’ know’s mos’ awful rackin‘ on the
physical constitution."

“ He looks as though he was a savage dog,” said White
Falcon. “ I reckon he’d attack a piece of raw meat quick
enough, wouldn’t he!”

“ He may be hungering like his master, and would eat that
which is digestible if placed within a git-stable distance.
But since leaving the fort called Randall, our supplies has been
exhausted, and we’ve been trustin' to Providence for along
time.” ' '

“ I‘m thinking Providence ’11 let you starve if you don’t
help yourself a little." ' v

“ Ahl" sighed the man, shaking his head, “that is the
doctrine of sin the world over. But why is that man in
bonds? Is he not a heathen among you?"

“ He is,kbut we’re soon going to send his spirit to the other
world; to be plain, we’re going to roast him, and if you tarry
long enough your dorg can have——"

“ Oh, J udea l” exclaimed the Oracle, elevating his hands '
in horror, and rolling his eyes upward in evident pain, “ can't V‘
I prevail on'you to let that man go free, that he may ,repem
of the deeds done in the body?”

“ His sins, Sir Oracle, are the same as yours. He had the
audacity to intrude upon grounds sacred to the red-men."

“ But perchance he came with evil in his heart, whereas I
come with love and good will te’rd all mankind, the beasts of

4 Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
the ﬁeld, the birds of the air, and the dwellers in the sea;
and to preach to the benighted heathen of Ameriky. Already
hev I wrought much good in my travels, though my foot-
steps hev been beset with all the temptashins that beset the
pilgrim in his progress to heaven; yet I feel good in spirit
over my deeds.”

“I observe that your language savors of oriental reﬁne-
ment,” said Donald Gray, who was possessed of some educa-
tion.

“ Not so much as it used to be. Since I kem into this
’ere land of the ungodly, my langwidge hes become korrnpted
—my words are not alers the most elegant, nor my sentences
the most forcible; but they’re sich as can only be understood
by the henthens of the land. It’s thro’ necissity, not of
choice, that I’m rude into my speech.”

“ I am inclined to think that you are a consummate old
villain—a lying spy, trying to deceive us with your insane
palaver and idiotic face. But that, let me tell you, you can-
not do. You already know too much to leave here alive with
that tongue of yours. Braves, see that the old villain is se-
cured against doing us harm.”

Ever ready to comply with the will of their chief, the
warriors started toward the Oracle, who calmly folded his
arms across his breast, and striking an attitude intended for
resignation, but which was provokingly comical, he said:

“I submit without resistance, you children of benighted
minds. Ye needn’t bind me, for I‘m more’n willin’ to remain.
Thar is Patience, my hoss here, and Humility, my dorg thar;
take ’em both, feed ’em, and with the respekt due their under-
standin’. Patience, she comes of noble blood; her sire was

as fine a hoss as over pounded Arabian soil, and her dam——
sh, she war a noble critter too. And that ’ere dorg, bless

me! I could trace his pedigree back to Noah and the ark.
To be sure I could. But”——and he turned to his animals—
“ Patience, go with the heathens—Humility, submit with
Christian resignashin.”

A savage led Patience to one side and hitched her, while
another fastened a lariat around Humility’s neck and tied him
to a sapling. The Oracle was not bound, for the chief had
not the slightest fear of his attempting to desert. He was,
in fact, fully satisﬁed of the man’s insanity, and of his per-
fect harmlessness.

The savages were about to resume their preparations for
the execution of Duncan, when the Oracle interrupted them,
saying:

“ Friends, I want to leave yer camp durin’ the abominable
execution of that man, if I’m to leave at all. The smell 0’
burnin’ martyrs alers did make me sick as p'isen. But if I’m
to die, let me die fust, and I’ll show him how to go it game,
like the ’Postles of old.

There were two other renegades in the party besides Gray,
whose recklessness of character had banished all human feel-

~ ing and mercy from their hearts; and in the crazy tramp and
his poor old mare, they foresaw a bit of rare, brutal sport.
Bidling up to the chief, one of them said: I

“I say, Donald, let‘s have some fun with the Oracle of
Peace."

N  ,H

“ Give him a chance for his life—let. him win it in a boss-
race.”

Donald winked his approval, then burst into a roar of
laughter over the idea.

It is not to be supposed that the Indians were ignorant of

what was being said. Several of them understood the English
.anguage, and these interpreted to the others; so that all were
enabled to enjoy the sport together.

“ Oracle,” said Gray, addressing the tramp, “ wouldn’t you
like a chance for life?”

“ Verily, life are sweet, even to the vilest critter that

D"

gasps, moves or has a bein , replied the man of peace.


“ Wouldn’t you he willin to run your mare ’gainst one of
our ponies for your life?” ‘

“ Oh, Judan abomination! distruetion!” groaned the 0P
acle, as if shocked by the idea. “ Racin‘ and gamlilin’
comes not within the pale of the principles of peace and love
It belongs only to the ungodly—the unwashed sinnm.
Moreover, Patience, my boss hero, is suﬂ'erin‘ (lire afﬂictions
on the right fore leg from the bite of the treacherous serpent.
that wears little bells onto its tail. Therefore I must decline
to race with the heathcns, and to uphold them in their un-
godliness." ‘

“ Then you shall die, although you have your life in
your own hands,“ said Donald Gray. “If you will take
your mare and run her against one of our ponies, your life
will be spared if you come out best in the race.”

“Life are sweet, arter all," reﬂected the Oracle, “ and I
am sorely tempted to try you a heat, and would, if it warn’t
fur poor Patience’s afﬂiction of the leg. As she is, she can
only hop along on three legs to a time. And yit I wouldn’t
hisitate to try one of yer slowest racers if ye’d give me a
few hundred yards the adwantage.”

The renegades, and those of the Indians who understood
English, indulged in a hearty ﬁt of laughter. They saw that
the love of life was strong, even in a crazy man; and that
freedom was paramount to the principles he advocated.

“ You can have your choice, Oracle; run the race or die."

“ 0h. Judcal" sighed the man; “then if yer sin-benighted
minds can conceive no Christian scheme for my deliverance
outsn bondage, I will stoop to the abominable sin of takin‘
my mare here onto the track. But I have no hopes of takin’
the ante, but race beca’se it’s a Christian dooty for me to try
to save my precious life, for the beneﬁt of others yit to.come.
So let a heathen bring out a slow racer, and I will run him,
sinse I am forced to it; yet I proclaim in a voice of thunder
that it be an abominable sin to put that poor critter that onto
the track. In course it be."

1

’

0 H A P T E R I I I .
m RAGE AND rrs mason.

WHILE the preliminaries of the race were being made by
the Indians and their white coadjutors, the Oracle of Peace
strode about the camp, apparently indiﬁerent to the arrange-
ments that were being made for the cruel sport of which he
and his mare were the unsuspecting subjects. He passed
and repassed before Jonathan Duncan, shaking his head and
muttering loud, but incoherently, now and then glancing at
the captive’s face with the deepest expression of human sym-
pathy. I

“ I sw’ar,” said Bill Davy, one of the renegades, “ I
b’lieve the feller’s talkin’ Dutch to the squire.”

“ Yes, hog Dutch,” replied Donald Gray.

The Oracle continued his sauntering about the camp, but,
ﬁnally advanced to where Humility Was tied, and stooping,
he patted the dog affectionately upon the head, and said, in
a low, whimpering, childish tone:

“ Ah, nic, Humility! this are a big blunder fur us to make_
The heart of these red Phillistines appear to have no mercy,
whatsumever. So I reckon our time to part has come, arter
long years of sojournin’ together. I may, and 1 may not,
win the race, but that snake-bitten leg of Patience is ag’in"
me, ten to one. But if ye hev to die, Humility, die game.‘
Ye’ll maybe go into the soup-kittle, but if ye make as good
soup as ye hev companion, these ’ere pesky heathens will
’ave a delicious time. Look here, ole dorg; see what an in-
signiﬁcant thing holds yer life in check—a little string which

one sweep of my knife ’d cut.”

“v wink-“ AA! Am VAA—A A

 
DakOta Dan. ‘ '5

 
As he concluded with a shake of the head, the crazy man
took hold of the dog’s rope and held it up between his ﬁn-
gers, and glanced at the dog, then at the rope, with a vacant,
listless stare. Humility looked up into his master’s face,
dumb almost as his own, with an almost human apprehen-
sion; then he whined piteously, licked his chops as with an
air of satisfaction, and squatted down upon his haunchcs.

One may have thought that there existed the animal mode
of communication between these two creatures, dog and
master; but, aside from the latter’s power of speech, neither
betrayed the knowledge even of an intelligent animal.

“ And lookey' here, Humility, is another victim of this
heatheuish country,” drawled the tramp, advancing to Dun-
can and laying his hand upon the captive‘s head. “Poor
feller, the Phillistines hev got him, too, doggy, and he’ll
hev to die, I 'spekt. And jist look here, Humility, what a
insigniﬁcant thing stands atween him and life and freedom,”
and he took hold of the captive’s bonds and ﬁngered over
them some time in an easy, thoughtless manner; but ' the
chief saw that he made no attempt to free the captive.

“ All ready, Sir Oracle," the chief at length called out.

"Amen," was the grave, solemn response.

Then the tramp advanced to where his mare was hitched,
nnfastened her and followed White Falcon and all but two
of his warriors, who had been left to guard Duncan, to the
edge of theppen plain.

With a critical eye he scanned the opponent’s horse, shook
his head doubtfully, and sighed, in a tone whose lugubrious-
ness was in consonance with that of his face: ‘

“ Verily, Patience, the chances are against us, a thousand
to one. The red heathen’s horse is keen of limb, young,

‘ supple, and free of snake-bites. Our only chances lay in the

smoky Phillistine’s horse steppin’ into a mole-hill and break-
in’ of his neck. ’ And while we are certain of defeat, we are
liable to'run into the mole-hole-hill ourselves. Lerd, to be
sure we are l” ’

' A savage outburst ‘of laughter followed this lamentation
of the Oracle. ‘ V

" Verily, heathen with the smoky skin, the day '11 come,
perchance, when the laﬂ will be shifted to the other side of
thy facial openin’."

The distance to be run was a quarter of a mile. The
ground was stepped OR by one of the renegades and the racers
escorted to the starting point by several warriors on foot.
The Oracle led his mare to the place, and as she hobbled
along at times on three legs, the Indians: and' renegades
seemed transported with merriment at sight of ‘ the doleful-
looking ﬁgure presented by both the master and the beast.

With some difficulty, after suﬂering a severe fall, the
tramp succeeded in scrambling to the back of his mare. He
then turned the animal facing the winning goal. and an-
nounced his readiness to'start. ' '

A deep silence now fell upon the plain,'notwithstsnding
the ridiculousness of the affair. ’ V V ’_ I

The ﬁring of a riﬂe by the renegade chieﬂwho was at the
opposite end of the course. was to be the signal to start.

The Oracle sat with his eyes ﬁxed upon the group at the

other side of the plain, burning with a strange, unnatural
luster. Suddenly he saws little'cldud" ofrsmoke puff out
upon the air; then, as‘the clear'report'of 'thé'riﬂe Came quiv-
ering forth 'upon the breeze, the Oracle was heard to shout
Island, in a clear, ’unnatural'voice, the single word:

"Got" 'l l  ‘ ‘ I,

Quick as a ﬂush'Pstience’s eyes flew open,'her’ head, was
lifted, her ears became erect, her ﬁrm straightened out, and
like an arrow she shot away over the plain by the side of
her opponent. All her stupidity, stiﬂness and lameness had
vanished under the magic of her master's voice. ' ' I

' Yellafter yell arose from the. lips of the spectators, that

 
was answered by a wild, frenzied shout from the lips of the
Oracle, who sat half doubled upon his beast, while his coat-
tail ﬂapped in the wind behind, and his hat-brim dropped
like a mask over his face. To the amusement of those at
the starting point, the great “military” boot of the tramp
slipped from his foot at the second bound of his mare, but he
gave no heed to this, and sped on.

The yells of the savages increased as the racers sped on,
but their yells were outbursts of surprise, not the expression
of the amusement that they had anticipated; for, side by
side with the Indian racer, sped Patience, the face of her
rider changing from its look of imbecility to that of silent
triumph.

“This beats you, now don’t it, smoky-skin?” the Oracle
suddenly called out to his opponent in a tone that was dis-
tinctly audible above the swish and thud of the horses’ feet
through the grass and upon the hard earth. I,

“ Ugh!" was the response of the Indian, who, with eyes
starting with excitement, laid the whip vigorously across his
beast.

“ That’s it, Ingin, score it on,” continued the Oracle,
growing warm under the excitement of the race; “ alers whip
on the hairy side, smoky. Ole Patience, my mare here,
wa’n‘tas lame as ye thought, war she?’ Like all females,
she’s deceivin’, ain’t she? She can't be beat on these pra’ries
a-runnin‘ and playin’ ’possum, can she? Whewl aren‘t we
a-sailin’, though, now? I could jockey you now, Ingin, like
thu‘nderation; but I won't, will I? But I’ll tell ye what I
can do: I can beat you, and I'm gorin’ to do it. So now,
ole gal, toe into it—buckle right down to the work, Patience
—peg away, ole critter—scatter dirt in smoky's eyes—lick her
down, Pacie—scatl whoop, hurrah, here we go—good-by,
smoky!"

Away from the side of the Indian, like a bird on the wing,
glided the mare with her rider. The spectators were astound-
ed. Donald Gray began cursing with impetuous rage. He
discovered his mistake when too late. He and his men had
been duped. The cunning old tramp and his trained mare
had played their parts well.

As he saw the Oracle turn from the track and sweep away
like the wind across the plain, White Falcou’s rage knew no
bounds. He fairly fumed, cursed his own stupidity and
that of his men, calling the wrath of heaven upon them.

'Like a madman he tore away toward the camp to procure
his own beast, an animal of remarkable speed, to start in
pursuit of the cunning old tramp. But when he reached the
camp, what was his astonishment to ﬁnd that his animal was
gone!

He turned to make inquiry regarding it, of Duncan’s two
guards. They were not there, and, to add to his fury and
astonishment, he discovered that both Jonathan Duncan and
the dog Humility were gone.

A glance at the straps with which the dog had been tied

showed the imprint of teeth upon it. This led to the dis

covey that it had been, gnawed in two. Further investiga-
tion showed that Duncan’s bonds had also been severed by the
dog’s teeth:

Then the chief could account for the absence of his horse:
Duncan had escapéduponit. In this he was right; although
two guards had been left with the captive while the others
'went , to attend the race, their curiosity got the better of
their sense of duty, and the moment they heard the yells and

,shouts of their friends, they deserted their post and ran to
,, theledgs of the plain where they could see what was going

on. -

This proved even more fortunate than the tramp had hoped
for; it left the coast clear for the dog to act its part. And
no sooner did the sagacious animal hear his master’s voice
shouting in triumph, out upon the plain, than he applied his

6 ' Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
teeth to his bond, and in a moment snapped it in two. Then,
still remembering the silent commands of his master, he sprung
forward and gnawed Duncan’s thongs off his wrists.

The captive could scarcely realize what had transpired—-
that an animal could possibly have so much human under-
standing, and before he was cognizant of the fact, Humility
was gone.

Realizing that he was free, Duncan knew that not a mo-
ment was to be lost in putting distance between himself and
the redskins, and selecting a ﬂeet—looking stud from among
the Indians’ ponies, he mounted it and ﬂed. He shaped his
course along the river until a point of timber jutting out into
the plain would conceal him from view of the savages; then
he turned into the open prairie and sped away up the Keya
Paha on the trail of the Oracle and his dog.

He rode rapidly forward for nearly an hour. No sign of
purspers could be seen. At length he turned into the woods
again, and halted to rest his jaded beast and take his bear-
ings for a point of safety.

A voice hailed him.

“I say, stranger,” it said, “ you made yer ’scape, did'ye?
Things all worked like clock-wheels, didn’t it’though?"

It was the voice of the Oracle, who at this juncture rode
up. Humility was following in his accustomed place at
Patience’s heels.

“ Thank Heaven, my dear sir,” Jonathan Duncan ex-
claimed, in a tone full of gratitude and joy; “ you are the
most original piece of human deception I ever met. I never
saw a more perfect specimen of imbecility than you were
outside of an insane asylum. You have saved my life,
stranger, and in a manner that seems miraculous.”

“ Then Humility, my dorg thar, did his workup skienﬂin-
tically, did he? Done jist as I hinted to him, did he? He
didn’t act awkward ’bout it, did he? By Judeal it was a
good thing we both had a smattern of low Dutch, wa’n’t it?
I told ye I’d git ye outen thar, didn’t I? That renegade
pretty nigh took the hint when I war mutterin’ to'you. The
red devils had you party tight, tho’; and it’s' well I see‘d ’em
chasin’ ye across the plain. I sec’d ye war ’bout‘ blowed,
and knewed they’d rake ye in down at the river, and when
I heard ’em screechin’ I knowed ye war raked, and I jist
slipped down the river, and seein’ you war in for a fry, I
concluded to come fooly on ’em. _ Good thing I had ‘em ole
close. handy—played the oracle well, didn’t I? But I sw’ar
I came mortal nigh rippin‘ out an ole-fashi’n cuss-word several
times. Oriental langwidge! hal hai—that’s good on the chief,
ar’n‘t it? But, I’ll tell ye, stranger, Patience, my mare here,
and Humility, my/dorg thar, are two the best-trained animils
outside of Barnum’s big show—good as ever boxed sod, or
squizzed the jugular of a red-skin. Why, Patience, my mare
here, is the ﬂeetest critter in all Dakota, and I'll bet my scalp
on her every clip. See, she gits herself better’n she did,
don’t she? Humility, my dorg thar, has a thunderin’ site of
man-gumpshun ’bout him, ar’n’t he?——-say, what be your
name, stranger!” '

“ Jonathan Duncan. May I ask the same of you?” replied
Duncan. ’ '

“ To be sure, Jonathan; speak right out. You see, I’m a
stranger in these diggin’s, myself. I’ve jist come down from
the nor‘-west to this kentry. But up thar, J onathan—away
up in the northern part of, this territory, I war familiarly
called Dakota Dan, the Ranger; and I swear to the stars,
Jonathan, Patience, my mare here, and Humility, my’d'org
thar, are three jolly sailors. Yes, I’m Dakota Dan, ‘and
prond I be of the name and the man too, Jonathan. Here.
781' hill Shaka to eternal fﬁendship.‘ *'

 
C H A P ’I‘ E R I V .
 JONATHAN DUNCAN'B MISSION.

JONATHAN DUNCAN was happily surprised by the revelation
of the Oracle. ' Of all persons in the territory, Dakota Dan
was the one he most desired to meet. Although he had
never secn him before, he knew him well by reputation. In
fact, his ﬁeld of operation (had hitherto been conﬁned to
northern Montana and Dakota, and no one knew of his pres-
ence on the Keys Paha until he had introduced himself to
Duncan—ﬁrst, demonstrating his eﬂiciency in cirumventing
the red-skins, and as a scout. His recent advent into tho
country, therefore, accounted for his being unknown by
White Falcon and his warriors.

Duncan had imagined that Dakota Dan was a specimen of
perfect and powerful manhood, and felt disappointed when

' his imaginary here had dwindled down to the little, wiry old
, man before him. But then he reﬂected that great men were

'not always remarkable in physical development, and that

giants in stature Were not always giants in mind and power.

' “Of all persons, Dakota Dan, you are the one I least ex-
pected to meet; although you are the person I most desire to
see.” ‘ " '

“ Verily, Jonathan, I say unto you, I’m not a very admir-
able, prepossessin’ old anatomical ﬁgger; neither is Patience,
my mare ‘here, nor Humility, my dorg thar; so you see it's
not an overly great sight we be, now is it?”

“ You misunderstand," replied Duncan; “ it was not
through curiosity that I desired to see you; but through a
matter of business in which your services would be of incalv
culable value to me.” .

' “ Oh, that indeed? Wal, I reckon as whatII, and Patience,
my there here, 'and Humility, my dorg thar, hev given ye a
specimen of our ’possum, circumventing abilities. You see,
we three all work together—man, hoof and howler, like the
wheels of a klock, and when one don’t run, the others all

stop. we’re a kind .of a tri-angle, Jonathan, and right here

let ms say that it takes all three to make Dakota Dan.
We’ve never failedv'in discomboboratin’ a set of red-skins,
now hev we, ole maret—hev we, ole dorg? No, sir-eel But
I say, Jonathan, jist stand here till I git my proper riggin’
on, then I can talk business to you; fur I'm act’ly sp’ilin’
for a bloody muss with the red-skins. You see times got
dreﬂuldullup north, and I lkem down here on purpose to

raise a leetlc perticklcr thunder.” "

As he concluded, the ranger sprung nimbly from his sni-
mal’s back and glided softly away into the woods. He was
gone but a few minutes when he returned, rigged out in the
full buck-skin garments of the veritable border-ranger, and
carrying t“ ﬁne-looking riﬂe, a brace of revolvers and a long

hunting-knife buckled to his waist. He also carried a pair
of saddle-bagsblack and greasy with age and rough usage.

' “ Ah, one would hardly recognize the Oracle of Peace in
the ranger, Dakota Dan,” said Duncan, as he approached.

“ You observe, Jonathan, I see’d the red devils arter ye,
as I said before, and when I found out, by scoutin’ around,
that you were to be cooked,‘I ‘resolved'to save ye. '50 I
went to thinkin‘. I thought of them old clothes that I
picked up at a trader’s post up the Missouri; and so back I
'comes and puts ’em on; then I bound up Patience’s leg in a
piece of the old'coat’s linin’, put a bug into her and Humil-
ity’s ear, and the great triangle sot sail fur the Ingin camp.
But they can hev the suit now, for it won‘t work ag’in, and
then it ar’n’t as strong as new, be, it?” ' i V l '
( “I rather think it’s a. little the worse of a century’s wear,”
replied Duncan, disposed, to make the best of "his situation.
“ But, Dan, do you think I had ought to keep this animal?"

“ Abomination l" exclaimed Dan, half-surprised, half-vexed,
“thr war ye born, man?—in a meetin‘-house? Does yer

_c0nscience hurt ye? Do you want to take the stud back and

 
Al

 
Dakota Dan. 7

 
F
give it up to the smoked variets and make apollygises for
yer very ongentleinanly abstraction of the critter from their
con'le, while laborin’ under a slight comboboration of the
kranium? Ain’t ye sorry ye didn’t let ’em roast ye?”

” Not at all, Dan,” replied Duncan, with a smile; “I was
only afraid his being in our possession might get us into
trouble."

“ Red distruction, Jonathan! Stick to the stid, for I
warrant ye thar‘s not his ekel on all these pra‘ries ’cept Pa-
tience, my mare here. He led the chase arter you; he’s fast,
he is, so stick to him. ‘ The variets hev your boss, so say to
yerse’f, ‘Jonathan Duncan traded hosses with the Indians;
even, too.’ Mebby that ’11 clear yer conscience of its meetin’-
house scruples. Dim it, man, you mustn’t be too sticklin’
’bout right and wrong on the border when yer dealin’ with
red-skins. Keep all ye git, and git all ye kin if yer gettin’
of the red-skins, that’s law out here. But ‘now, Jonathan,
I’m reddy to give ear to yer bisness."

“ Well, to begin with, I’m lost. I aimed to strike the
Keys, Paha near its conﬂuence, but got a little too far north,
and'into the clutches of the Indians."

“ Ya-as,” drawled the ranger. “ I perceived the latter
fact with half an eye, but it seems q‘ueer that you’d be tramp-
in’ over this ticklish kentry without a guide."

"‘ I was told at the Missouri river settlement that I need ap-
prehend no fears of the Indians in journeying across the
country to the settlement‘on the Niobrara; that the savages
were further north. I would have got through all right if ‘I
hadn't got lost. But to the business that brings me here."

“That’s it, Jonathan, let it out."-’ '

" Well, really, I don’t like to compromise myself too
far unless I can be assured of your services,” replied Dun-

‘ can.

“I don’t see but that Dakota Dan, the great triangular

fred-skin exterminator, can give you a » b00st, if the work is

sich as what Patience, my mare here,'can‘ slap in about new
and then, and Humility,‘my dorg that, stick in a tooth ' oc-
casionally. We’ve get to pull together—we three, Jonathan,
fur ye see it takes all three to make‘Bilkota‘Dan.”

“ Certainly—I understand," replied' Duncan, “so I will
state the case, then you can judge as to the amount of adven
ture connected with it. I am in search of a young person who
is heir to a large fortune in one of the Southern States—”

“ '69.] or boy?” interrupted Dan.

“ I declare I- don’t know which.”-

“ Now you don’t say, do you?” exclaimed the ranger.
“Then how the blazes yOu'goin’ to ﬁnd the heir if ye don’t
know whether it's gel or boy, dead or livin’? Leastwise it
be the curiousest thing ever heard of, ar’n’t it now?"

“ It is a remarkable case,” replied‘Duncan; “ and I’ll tell
you how it all came about. The father '01 this unknown
heir or heiress, Charles Lonsdale, died; two weeks after his
death'the mother also died’in giving birth to the child. As
soon as it was born", it was wrapped in a shawl and taken
into an adjoining room by the mother’s attendant—an- old
woman named Betsy Frone,'who was not» overly scrupulous
in principle. Ten minutes later-the babe was missing. Not
a soul knew what had become of it. The old attendant said
she had left it lying upon a pillow “and went into another
room for clothes to dress it. it "When she returned it was
gone; and up to that'time not a person in-the house knew
the sex of the childi—lthe‘ dying‘mother having drawn all but
Frone to her bedside.“  " ' "'3 l~ ' ‘ ' '

“Mertal dis‘tructioni you "don’t say, Jonathan! iPo'or
thing, peer thing.” i" " v '

“It is'probable that “the mattcr'wouid' still be wrapun
more‘mystery than‘itli‘s,‘had‘old’Betsy Frone not been called
upon to render up ‘sn'account a the judgment r of God.”

“ {Served her right! ” exclaimed the old ranger; glancing at

‘picter now?" "V

 
his mare and dog, as if to see the effect his decision produced
upon them.

“‘ She made a death-bed confession," continued Jonathan.
“ She confessed that she aided in kidnapping the child—that,
even before it was born, she had plotted with one Raymond
Geer—-a heartless villain who sought to add to the mother’s be-
reavement and sorrow, and thereby seek revenge upon her for
having rejected his love before she married Charles Lonsdale.
Had he known, however, that the mother was not to live, he
would doubtless not have stolen the child. Old Betsy con-
fessed that she handed it out at the window to Geer, who
was in waiting there. Then he spirited it away and placed
it in the hands of the Wife of an old boatman named Caleb
Bond—one of Geer’s own ilk in river piracy. Now, this kid-
napping was done twenty years ago, and it was but two years
ago that old Betsy Frone made this death-bed confession. ' The
brother of the dead Charles Lonsdale, who took possession,
or rather charge of his relative's estate, offered a large reward
for the return of the child, with evidence to establish its par-
entage and birth, for, you see, old Caleb Bend, the boatman,
had left the country with the child, long years before, and
no one knew whither he'had gone. But it was generally
thought that he came West, and was in all probability living
under an assumedname. Detectives have been looking the
ease up [Or two years, and a short time ago I got wind of a
man answering the description of Bond, residing at, or in th
immediate vicinity of, Niobrara settlement.” « 
“ Would’yoqunow ole Bond if you’d see him i" asked the
ranger. ' - v 

“ No; I never saw him in my life.”

v“ Then, if he’s livin' under another name, how ye goin'-to
git at him? In'course he won’t confess he’s Bond if ye can’t
prove it, for he'd be afraid of the law. No, sir-es, he’ll not
implicate hisself.” / '

“If I run across Bond, or any one I suspect of being

“Bond,”and‘ he has a son or daughter, or several of both, I

hope to be’able to identify the Lonsdale heir'by its resem-
blance‘to either the'father or mother—the latter in particular.
Then I- will have Bond arrested and indentiﬂed, and, released

'upon condition that he makes. a clean breast of all."

“ Wal, now, Jonathan, you’re on what I call 'a purty cold
trail—one that‘ Humility, my dorg thar, couldn‘t feller.
They’ve been dead twenty years, ye say, and yet ye expect to
be able to recognize the child by some resemblance to its
father‘or mother, don’t ye! S’pose it don't look a whit' like
either? You must hev a good- remembrance, haven't ye?”

“ I do not trust much to memory. I had a picture of Mrs.

'Lonsdale, and by 11711 had hoped to be enabled to sift- out the

matter. ”
“ A cold trail, Jonathan; a monstrous cold trail—got tho
‘ “No; White Falcon took it while I was in his power)”-
“Then' the last footprin‘t'in the 'trail's'rubbed out, now
ar‘n’t it?" '
‘i‘v‘No; I remember how the picture looks, and shall con

' tinue my's‘earch. I may re’cOver the picture.”

“ ""Yes, ye may, and‘then ye'meyn’t, but—‘—'" -
He was here interrupted by a low growl ‘from Humility,
and a glance at the dog told him that he had detected the

‘ presence of ' danger, and leaping upon the back of his mare,

he said: ‘

1,“ Jonathan, that’s dangernigh. Humility; my dorg th ,
says so,‘ and he’s never ‘béeri’zknown'to"bark‘rhp'the wro
tree—never. Look, Jonathan! see the gracefhl ‘arc'h bf the
dorg’s neck, the cant of the'héad', the sparkle of the eye, the
quiverin' of the dilated nostrils as they sniﬁ the’-alr"—ah! ar‘n’t

, he a noble specimen of his racé?‘ But I reckon aslwhat‘m'is'

vicinity isn’t' as healthy as possible: I reckon them smoky-

sk‘inned varmints are approachin’, 'so‘let’s skip'alon‘g and talk
‘ on the run.” .

8 Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
Bo saying, the two rode away, closely followed by Humil-
ity; but Dakota Dan had been mistaken for once in the
source of the dog’s uneasiness. They were scarcely out of
hearing of the spot where they held their conversation, when
the lithe ﬁgure of a white man, in Indian garb, glided from
a clump of bushes hard by, and hurried away to meet White
Falcon and his warriors, who were approaching over the
plain at a sweeping gallop.

 
CHAPTER V.
EDITH AND RUBEN.

NIOBRLRA settlement was located on the river of the same
name, about ten miles above the mouth of the Keys. Paha.
It had been of a mushroom growth, springing up within one
summer to a dozen dwellings and about ﬁfty inhabitants, all
told. The latter were all supposed to be honest, industrious and
peaceable citizens, yet brave, hardy and fearless people, who
represented various nationalities, as most border settlements
usually do. No two families in the settlement knew each
other, previous to their meeting at this point. They all
seemed to have been thrown together, as it were, by mere
chance; and they all mingled and associated with that free,
kind, conﬁding and open-handed friendship that the true pio-
neer is wont to extend to a fellow-man. No one inquired
of another’s past life, nor called for letters of introduction,
but forthwith received him into the brotherhood, there to
test his moral character by his deeds. A rude exterior, to
these unsophisticated bordermen, was not always indicative
of the inner man. They judged a man’s virtues by his own
standard, and not by his ﬁne clothes and prepossessing fem
tures.

Of such people was Niobrara composed, with but a single
exception, of which we will speak more fully hereafter.

A day or two following the events narrated, two of the
settlers—a man and woman, or rather a girl and boy—were
seated side by side upon a fallen log, engaged in low conver-
satiom Overhead the graceful cottonwood trees swayed and
rustled in the September breeze; at their feet rolled the Nio-
brara river.

Ruben Gregg was the elder of the two, and he could not
have been over twenty years of age. He was a tall, hand-
some, noble, manly-looking youth, whose dark-brown eyes,
intellectual brow and expressive features were evidence of
mental culture; and yet he was but an unsophisticated youth
of the border—one of three boys, that had been born and
bred upon the frontier, in the family of old Barak Gregg.
Professionally, Ruben was a bee-hunter, in which business
he excelled all competitors. His father was a gunsmith, or
worked at the trade when he was sober enough to be intrusted
with a job. .

Barak Gregg was the only intemperate character in the
settlement. It was evident, too, that he had «always led a
life of dissipation; and it was with a feeling of regret that
the neighbors saw Harvey and David, his two youngest sons,
and brothers of Ruben, following slowly, but surely, in his
footsteps. And they often wondered why Ruben was, so
different from his father and brothers. Some thought he
was possessed of his mother’s nature—kind and gentle and
loving, always striving to do good and keep within the path
of right and duty.

Edith Dnﬁord, the maiden who sat by Ruben’s side, may
have been a year his junior. She was one of those bright
and happy little creatures whom all loved, and whose coming
brought sunshine and joy to the saddest heart. Dark-brown
hair crowned her head of classical mold; dark, soft blue eyes,
that sparkled with girlish mischief and joy, sent their sweet,

 
mesmeric inﬂuence to your very heart; and red, ruby lips
danced over pearly teeih to the musical sweetness of her own
voice.

Edith was an orphan. She had never known the love of
a father or a mother. She had lived in her uncle Amos
Hammerly’s family, ever since she could recollect any thing.
They were as kind to her as their own children, but she was
proud-spirited and could not shake off a feeling of depend-
ence upon her uncle’s charity. She loved Ruben Gregg, and
Ruben Gregg loved her; but the dissolute life of his father
came up between them—the sins of the father were visited
upon the son. Editli’s uncle would not consent to their
union, although he liked Ruben and treated him kindly.
But he also loved his niece, and was afraid Ruben would yet
inherit the dissipation of his father. He knew Ruben was
young and that his character for life was not altogether
molded. His fatherly interest in Edith was fully reciprocated
by the maiden. Her love and respect for him were so_deep
and lasting that she would not oppose his wishes, nor disre-
gard his advice. He and his family were the only relatives
she hadin the world, and should she cast them oﬁ, and then
Ruben prove untrue to her, her life and happiness would be
forever wrecked.

“No, Ruben,” the maiden sadly said, in reply to his ear-
nest request for some deﬁnite answer as to their future life,
“I cannot give you an answer yet. I love you, Ruben, as I
have often acknowledged to you before, but I cannot act
against the will of uncle Hammersly. You know he opposes
our union on account of your father. He has no objections
to, you now, but he is afraid of the future. He is afraid
your future character will be fashioned after that'of your
father; and advises me to wait at least until your habits have
become ﬁxed by the lapse of time. I

“Then he is not opposed to our union altogether?” said
Ruben, a ray of hope kindling in his fine eye.

“ No; but he thinks we are both young, and may change
our minds regarding each other, as we grow more mature
with year. So, Rubsﬁ, you would not insist on me acting
contrary to his wishes, would you?"

“ Never, dear Edith.” replied the youth, passionately; “ an
undutiful daughter would not make a dutiful wife. I feel
that I am possessed of too much manhood to advise one that
I love to do wrong. I will wait for you ten years, Edith,
before'I will do wrong: I will convince your uncle, that
my habits and character at thirty are the same that they
were at twenty; and that I am fully worthy of his niece,
though I be the son of a drunkard."

“ Oh, dear Ruben," said Edith, happily, as she lifted her
soft blue eyes to his, ‘.‘ it pleases me so, makes me so happy
to hear you say this."

“ Henceforth, then, dear Edith, I shall know what I have
to strive for—your hand, as I am sure your heart is mine.
I was going away with the bee-hunters, up the river, to be
gone two or three weeks perhaps, and Iy'j'ust thought it would
be a relief, as well use pleasure, to know what my fate was
to be. Now I can go with a light heart and clear mind.”

“ I pray you will be careful, Ruben, and get into no dan-
ger while you are gone. They say the Sioux are on the war-
path, up on the Keya Pubs.”

“ I have heard it 39 reported, but I do not give credit to
the rumor, Edith. The Yankton Sioux are a lazy, shiftless
tribe, and are not likely to take the war-path, unless incited

_ to do so by the renegade whites that find a harbor from the

low in the Indian strongholds. 'White Falcon, however, is
unscrupulous enough, and has the power to lay waste all

_ southern Dakota. Still I: apprehend no danger whatever.

What reports we have board may have originated in connec-
tion with the story that Dakota Dan is up the Keys Paha,
slaying the redoskins right and left. It may be true, but I
hardly think that noted ranger is there.”

 
h‘._~r* "g

 
Q.

 
“ Will Mr. Searle go with the bee hunters?" asked Edith,
reﬂectively.

“ He proposes to accompany us to the mouth of the Kcya
Paha, and there leave us, and strike across the country to
the fort. He has been trying to induce us to change our
ﬁeld of operation, and go up the Keya I’aha instead of the
Niobrara
with us.

In case we will do so, he will spend a few days
Bee-hunting is real lively work, and as Mr. Seaule
is fond of sport, he is anxious that we should change to the
Keya Palm, and I am in favor of it, for I regard him as a
true gentleman in the strictest sense of the word."

“ If you knew what I do, perhaps you would not think so
much of him, Ruben.”

“ Why, my dear girl, do you know aught against the char-
actor of Mr. Searlc?”

Edith laughed in a clear, musical tone, for she saw that
Her little brown hand
his, and, lifting her blue eyes, she

Ruben was surprised and confused.
crept shyly into
said:

“ He asked me just this morning for permission to come
to see me."

“ Is that all?” replied Ruben, and Edith saw that he started
slightly, and that a ﬂush swept over his face; “ I am sure it
was a compliment, for Mr. Searle could have no evil motive
in wishing to pay his respects to you. But I feel certain,
however, notwithstanding his regards for you and your ad-
miration of him, that he can not win your love from me.”

“You have great conﬁdence in me, then, Ruben?” the
maiden queried, joyfully. .

“ I have all conﬁdence in the world in you, Edith.”

“ And I in you, Ruben."

There followed a moment of silence, sweet, rapturous si-
lence, in which the sympathetic flow of love from heart to
heart held holy, speechless communion.

Ruben was the ﬁrst to break the happy silence.

“My dear girl, I had nearly forgotten that I was to be
ready to start with the men from Davidson’s half an hour
ago. The moments have passed rapidly—they always do
when I am with you, dear Edie. But I will have to leave
you now."

“ When do you expect to return, Ruben l’”

“ I can’t say certain; we may be gone three weeks—two
at least."

“ May your excursion be one of pleasure and success, and
free from dangers. Oh, how uneasy I shall be till you get
back! But I will pray for you, Ruben, as I always do when
you are in danger. I feel certain my prayers have been an-
swered more than once."

“God bless you, my little love!” Ruben replied, fervently;
then he stooped and imprinted a kiss upon her red, warm
lips.

They lingered a moment longer, as if it was painful to
part, but the blast of a horn suddenly aroused Ruben from
his blissful lingering. It was the signal for the men to as-
semble. So they parted, Ruben going down to Davidson’s
cabin where the men were assembling, equipped for the bee-
hunting excursion up the river, while Edith turned and
started for her home up the river.

She had gone but a short distance when she turned and
cast a farewell glance at the retreating form of her lover.
The latter seemed actuated by the same motive of love, for
Ruben gazed back at the same'instant. He waved her an
adieu; she kissed her ﬁngers to him, then turned and bounded
away like a fawn. Out of breath, she ﬁnally sat down to
rest. Her little brown ﬁngers were toying with the strings
of her hat, while her eyes were ﬁxed upon the ground in a
kind of mental abstraction.

Suddenly a shadow crossed her path, a footstep sounded

. near.

 
Dakota Dan. 9

 
She raised her eyes; a little cry of surprise escaped her
lips.

A man stood before her; it was Mr. Ishmael Searle, one of
the government commissioners lately sent out to investigate
the standing of the Indian department of Dakota.

110 was a man of some thirty years, was tall and well
formed, with dark eyes, dark-brown hair and heard, and a
pleasant and rather prepossessing countenance. He was
dressed in a Citizen’s suit of dark-gray cloth, wore a broad-
brinuned felt hat, and carried a heavy cane, with a silver
ferrule and gold dragon-head.

He saw that Edith was startled by his sudden appearance,
but put her at ease by speaking ﬁrst.

“ You must excuse my rudeness, Miss Dull'ord," he said,
apologetically, “in running onto you without warning.”

“You are excusable, Mr. Scarle," replied Edith, with a
confused smile. “It was unintentional on your part, of
course.”

“ It was, it is, yet it is just such a blunder as I am always
making'in the presence of ladies. I admit I am wanting in
manners, which accounts for my lack of success in winning
the regards of the opposite sex, I suppose.”

“ You do yourself injustice, Mr. some," Edith responded,
in a pleasant tone. “ It is probably all owing to your want
of appreciation of the sex, that the lack of su'ccess of which
you speak may be attributet ."

“Not at all, Miss Dufford.
ciety, but they all appear to be afraid of me.
yourself, Miss DutIord, have declined to allow me to call on

I like the ladies and their so-
Even you,
you. ”

“I felt justiﬁed in my course, Mr. Seal-1e,” Edith re-
plied.

“ I suppose, then, you have an admirer. ”

Edith blushed, but the telltale color soon vanished.

“Did I say so?” she replied.

“ No, but I simply judge so. A young woman With your
face, character and disposition is seldom without a lover.
But it is a proverbial saying that faint heart never won fair
lady, and so I thought you would not be offended if I asked
the favor of you which I did, even if you were under engage
merits.”

“ Certainly not, Mr. Seattle."

“Well, although you did not grant my favor, I am going
to live in hopes yet, Miss Dquord. Perhaps a better ac-
quaintance between us will induce you to rescind your nega-
tive answer." I i

“ It never will, Mr. Scarle," replied Edith, a deep earnest;
ness in her look and voice.

“ is this the case, Edith?” he asked, sadly.

“It is, Mr. Scarle,” she replied, in atone that precluded
further questioning on the subject.

Scarle hit his lip; he appeared to be struggling hard with
himself to keep back an impassioned appeal that was strug-
gling up into his throat for expression. lIe gazed vaguely
down the river, crossed his hands over his cane, and sighed
bitterly.

“Well, I presume the bee-hunters :ii‘e ready to start, and
are waiting for me. I will not detain you longer, Edith.
Good-by." '

And with a polite bow and wave of the hand which
Seemed half in mockery, he continued on down the river, his
head bowed as if in deep thought.

Finally he said, in a tone a little unnatural:

Under the shadows of a branching tree he stopped, took
something from his pocket, and having gazed at it for fully
a minute, returned it to its receptacle and moved slowly
on.

Edith went home, but she was not as light-hearted as when
she parted with Ruben Gregg. Her interview with Searle
had ﬁlled her mind with some vague apprehensions of dis-

10

Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
trust that she could not dismiss. Why it was she could not
tell. She had no reason for such‘feelings, and could account
for them on no other theory than that of an intuitive presen-
timent of something yet to come—something concealed be—
hind the impenetrable veil of the future.

CHAPTER VI.
mmsnsmnmcnn.

DAKOTA DAN and Jonathan Duncan turned almost due
southward after they had journeyed a mile or more into the
woods, and had made sure they were not being pursued.
They soon reached the banks of the Keya Paha, and drew
rein. -

“ Now which way?” queried Jonathan.

“ We must cross here,” replied Dan, “ and give the van
lets the slip by goin’ back down the river on yan side.”

“ Can we ford the river here?” asked Duncan. ‘

" Our hosses can swim if they can’t wade. Patience, my
mare here, is a perfect duck to swim, and Humility, my
dorg thar, can swim on his back like a sick ﬁsh. Foller me,
Jonathan.”

The ranger rode down the bank and into the river, and
without the least difﬁculty succeeded in reaching the oppo-
site shore. Duncan followed, and in a few minutes more
they were moving down the river, having ﬁrst fallen back
into the woods.

They rode in awalk and picked their way along where
their animals’ hoofs would be least liable to sink in the soft
mold of the woods.

“Dan, do you think this detour will throw the red-skins
off our trail altogether?”

I “ 0h, Judas, no; in course it won’t; but then it will give
’em a plaguy site of botheration. Then they’ll smell a rat
and be keerful how they fool with Dakota Dan, the great
jumpin’, kickin’, chawin’ triangle of the Nor’-west. We’ll
not be so easy next time, Jonathan; and when we git sot a-
goin’ with knife, hoof and tooth, we can make an abomin-
able ugly sight, us three can. Ye see, don’t ye, that we can’t
play the Oracle, lame hoss and good dorggy enny more!
We’re known now, and ’11 hev to depend entirely onto our
muscle."

“I presume the red-skins will not be fooled the second
time,” replied Jonathan.

“ Judas, no, in course they won’t.”

The two rode on for an hour, when the sun went down
and the shadows of evening began to gather. Dan suggested
a halt for the night to rest themselves and overworked beasts.
Duncan was not altogether in favor of stopping, but, being
assured that no danger would befall thra , he yielded to the
wishes of the ranger. Dismounting, they tethered their ani-
mals out in a little glade hard by, where the rich grass grew
abundant. '

The two men took.up their quarters under the thick, low
branches of a cottonwood tree. The weather being warm
and pleasant, they were not compelled to make a ﬁre and
thereby publish to savage eyes their location. In his saddle-
bags Dan had an ample supply of dried venison and jerked
buffalo-meat, which he at once furnished to Duncan and Hu-
mility.

“This yere, Jonathan, are real, downright hunter-life in
earnest,” remarked the old ranger, throwing himself back
against the tree with a knife in one hand and a chunk of
venison in the other. “ But I reckon as what ye ar’n’t had
much in your’n, hev ye?”

“ N at much; nor do I care about it, either, if what I had
to-day is a specimen of border life,” replied Duncan,

 
“That war a clus ﬁx, Jonathan, and it’s likely the smoky
varlets would assisted ye outen the world but for one little
sarcumstance of a very amusin’ nature.”

“ That was, I presume, about as close quarters as a man
generally gets into.”

“It war a pesky tight place, but then I’ve been ina ’tarnal
sight wusser ﬁx nor that, Jonathan, and if it hadn’t ’a’ bin
for my presence of mind, I’d ’a’ bin bait long ago for the
Missouri piscatorial inhabitants—to be sure I would.”

“ Then your adventure was by water?”

“It was, Jonathan, and I hope I may never kill another
Ingin if it ar‘n’t so.”

“Well, I haven’t disputed your word yet, for you haven’t
told the story.”

“ Well, sir, Jonathan, it’s an actel fact. I went over the
falls of the Missouri in a 'canoe, two years ago, and never got
a scratch.”

“ Indeedl” exclaimed Jonathan.

“Yes, sir, no lyin’; ye see, I war canoein’ it down the
river, when, all to oncet, a lively yelpin’ on each side of the
river told me what war up. The cussed Blackfeet had got
arter me, and war on both sides of me, then a dozen in can-
oes war arter me. The falls war before me—not a mile
away. Escape right or left or back’ard onto the bagonets
of the varlets war not to be thought of, so I thought I’d try
scootin’ over the falls, and pulled out.”

Here Dan stopped to cut off a slice of venison and give
Jonathan an opportunity to put in aperiod, but the latter
said nothing, and so the ranger Went on: 7

“Lord, Jonathan, when that canoe" got within twenty
yards of the falls, it frisked around, give one ﬂirt and over
it shot like all distruction.”

“ And you escaped unharmed?”

“ Oh, I got wet, to be sure I did; but it war all owin’ to my
presence of mind that I got off as I did. Ye see, don’t ye,
while 1 war goin’ down the falls, the canoe left me, for, ye
see, I had the thought to grab at the great curtain of water
and kind 0’ steady myself. Dogged if I didn’t hang right up
thar to that water fur some time, but rightin’ myself, I slid
down the falls, and as luck ’d have it, I fell plump, smack,
right into my canoe below, and went on down the crick,
whistlin’ ‘ Hail Columby ’ as though nothin’ ’d happened.
But that wa’n’t my wust scrape, J on—”

An outburst of laughter from Duncan interrupted the ranger.

“ That was a remarkable adventure, Dan?”

“It was, now wa’n’t it? But, Jonathan, if you’ve enny
desire to take a nap to-night, you can turn in whenever ye
feel like it. The ground makes a good bed, the darkness
abundance of kiver. Humility, my dorg thar, will see to it
that no harm comes to our bedside.”

“ A few hours’ sleep,” said Jonathan, “ will make us all
the more vigorous for the morrow’s journey.”

Darkness had long since overspread the land. The stars
were twinkling brightly in the heavens. The moon came up
and cast a somber, dreamy light over all. The forest loomed
up grim and unnatural against the sky. The river murmured
close by. A tree-frog began its harsh piping in the tree
overhead—a cricket chirruped in an old log hard by. These
were followed soon by those mysterious voices of the night-
enshrouded wilderness that resembled the distant moan of a
storm. .

Dan and Duncan stretched themselves upon the earth,
with their heads pillowed upon their arms. The monotonous
song of the wilderness, the solemn voices of the night, soon
lulled them to sleep. They slept soundly for hours. Dan
was ﬁnally aroused by his dog licking his cheek. He started
drowsin up, rubbed his eyes; gazed at the dog and then up
at the sky. The moon’s position in the heavens told the

. noon of night.

#4

“31; a . “Wm _ , , “H .. ..

W—

 
ﬁr

 
Dakota Dan.  71 1

 
The dog whined and snill‘cd the air.

Dan started to his feet, clasped his riﬂe, and peered into
the gloomy shadows around him.

Duncan stirred rcstlessly in his Sleep, beat the air with his
hands, as if ﬁghting an imaginary foe.

Dan chuckled to himself over his friend’s restlessness.

Again Humility sniffed the air, and whined ina low, plain-
tive tone.

Dan bent. his head and listened.
tion of Duncan and the murmur of the Keya Paha broke the
foreboding silence of the midnight. hour.

“What is it, ole dorg? what is it?” Dan said, steeping
and laying his hand upon the dog’s head.

Humility thrust his nose up into his master’s bearded face,
then frisked away into the woods toward the glade where
they had tied their horses out to grass.

Master and servant, man and dog, seemed to understand
perfectly the language peculiar to each other. Their long
associations together had combined the language of human
reason and animal instinct.

“Thar’s dcviltry goin’ on,” mused the ranger.
abominable smoky heathens must be around.”

Thus musing he advanced and waked Jonathan Duncan.

“Humility, my dorg thar, p’ints danger, Jonathan,” he
said.

“ Indeedl” and Duncan sprung to his feet.

Then Humility came bounding back to his master’s side,
and at once disappeared again in the direction of the glade.

“ Sumthin’s wrong ’bout the hosses, Jonathan,” lhe‘ranger
said, deliberately; “let’s feel the sitewashin with care.”

With extreme silence they crept to the edge of the glade.

“ 0h, he! thar’s what’s up!” whispered the scout, as he
glanced out into the opening that was ﬂooded with moon-
light.

Duncan parted the bushes before him and took in the scene
at a glance. An Indian warrior had crept up to the horses
and was just unfastening the old ranger‘s mare.

“ Shoot the thief before he gets away with your mare,
Dan," he said, somewhat excited.

. “No, keep mum, Jonathan, and we‘ll see some fun.
You'll see the ole mare demonstrate her teachin’, now mind."

The Indian unfastened the mare, then turned, and half-
crouching, attempted to lead her away into the darkness of
the woods. But he suddenly met with a difﬁculty unexpect-
ed. The mare threw herself back and obstinately refused to
budge an inch. The Indian pulled on the larist one way,
and Patience pulled the other.

The Indian soon grew tired of this, as delay was dangerous,
and 0 he tied up the lariat and mounted upon the mate’s
back and dug his heels into her side. The animal sprung
backward instead of forward, nearly unseating the warrior.

Only the heavy respira-

“ Them

Again the latter applied heel and whip, but Patience still re-

fused to go. She shook herself in a violent manner, reared
upon her hind feet in endeavor to dismount her rider in every
way possible. But her efforts so far had been in vain. The
Indian was an expert horseman, and clung to her like a leech,
and with a desperate pertinacity worthy of success.

Dakota Dan calmly viewed the scene, his face convulsed
and his sides shaking with laughter.

“Ar’n’t that jolly, Jonathan?" he asde every now and
then, nudging Duncan, who was both suprised and amused
at the exhibition of equine perversity and savage determination.

Finding herself unable to dislodge the savage, Patience, as
a last resort, suddenly dropped herself upon the ground, and
began rolling as though a swarm of bees had settled upon
her. The Indian was forced to yield up his seat and retreat
beyond the mare's ﬂying limbs. He stopped and awaited
her movements, regarding her all the while with a puzzled,
thoughtful look.

 
Finally the mare rose to her feet, and looking toward the
Indian, whinnied, in a manner that seemed expressive of tri-
umph to Dan and Jonathan.
it as indicative of quiet submission, for he immediately started
toward her with an expression of satisfaction and triumph
upon his grim, stoical face. No sooner, however, was he
within reach of the animal, than she whirled suddenly roundI
and drove her heels into his stomach with such violence that'
he was thrown heavily to earth. r The ranger and his com.

But the Indian must have taken

panion watched to see him rise to his feet, but to their sur-
prise hc never moved nor uttered a word nor sound.

“ I reckon as what, Jonathan,” the ranger said, “that crab-
bed ole critter has bu'sted the life outen that lopin’ varlet.
But then it’s not the fust time she’s slapped her ﬂippers into
a red-skin’s bread-basket and sent him a-ﬂukin’ to the happy
huntin‘-ground. She’s jist like all females—contrary as sin,
and cross as a sick b‘ar, but then she‘s a noble critter. That
varlet’s dead, Jonathan, but to make sure and certain, I’ll jist
step out and ’zamine his pulse."

He entered the glade and advanced toward the motionles8
ﬁgure of the savage that lay doubled up on the earth where
he had fallen. He reached the body and was bending over
it, when his attention was suddenly arrested by a noise in the
shrubbery close by. It was a noise not unlike that which
would be made by a heavy body crashing through the under-
growth. It was approaching the glade—coming nearer and
nearer. Before Dan could have time to decide upon his
course of action, two ﬁgures, locked in each other’s deadly
embrace, came whirling in rapid evolutions out of the dark-
ness into the moonlit opening!

CHAPTER VII‘. '
wurrn FALCON m A man.

WE left White Falcon fuming with impotent rage, and
pouring the most horrible execrations upon the two savages
that had deserted their post, and permitted Duncan and the
dog Humility to escape. The loss of the prisoner, however,
would not have been of so much consequence to the chief
had his h.rse not been taken away. He knew there was
nothing on the Keys Paha equal to him in speed and endu-
rance, and so he knew it would be useless to make any extra
exertion to recapture the prisoner.

The Indians, however, soon found his trail; then the chief
mounted Ddhcan’s jaded horse and set off up the stream at
a slow pace, 9. guide preceding them on foot, his head bent
forward like a bounds, and his snake-like eyes ﬁxed on the
fugitive’s trail.

The chief’s exasperation increased with the lapse of time:
He was continually reminded of the less of his pony by the
exertions required to goad on the fagged and worn horse he
now bestrode; he would have shot the two savage guards
who were responsible for his loss, had it not occurred to his
mind every minute that, being the leader of the party, he

was the greatest dupe in it, for having allowed the Oracle to

practice the imposition upon them that he did.

The appearance of a ﬁgure on 'the plain in advance sud-
denly arrested the attention of the savages, and drew the
chief's thoughts from his grievances. He immediately on
dered a halt to make a survey of the surrounding vicinity,
for it occurred to him quite forcibly that he might be run-
ning into some trap, which was but a continuance of the
Oracle’s cunning deception.

The object, which at ﬁrst was intangible, gradully assumed
the form and proportions of a man. He was coming directly
toward the savages, and as he drew nearer, they recognized

 
,

 
12

 
Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
him as one of their own friends—a half-breed called Bulky,
who had been left behind in the chase after Duncan by the
death of his horse.

White Falcon at once spurred forward and met the man.

“He, Sulky!” he exclaimed, as he drew rein, “did you
see any thing of two men just now riding north?”

“ I reckon I did, boss,” replied Sulky, a villainous-looking
fellow, whose countenance accorded with his name.

White Falcon dismounted.

“Where were they, and how long since you saw themi"I
he questioned.

“In the tim’er up thar, and long enough ago for ’em to
be up on the Powder. If it are ’em yer arter, ye mout es
well go back, fur one of them war on yer stud and t‘other’n
was—well, did ye know who the t’other’n war. boss?”

“ Some infernal old fool of a trapper or hunter.”

“ J ist rite yer are, boss,” responded the half-breed, with a
knowing air; “it war that identikel ole ranger from up north
that—”

“ Not Dakota Dan ?” interrupted the chief.

“ Yes, Dakota Dan,” said Sulky.

“ The‘devil you say!” exclaimed White Falcon, manifest-
ing great surprise and uneasiness; “that old rag’muﬂin Da-
kota Dan? How do you know this, Sulky? Speak out,
man.”

‘fWhy, weren’t I hid not ten steps from whar him and
that feller what we chased stopped to talk? And didn’t I
hear every word they sed? And didn’t that ’ere queer-look-
in‘ ole kritter say he war Dakota Dan? I reckon now he
did, boss.”

“Dakota Dan!” repeated the chief, reﬂectively; “if that
man has come down here, and we have got to deal with him,
we’d better pull up stakes and emigrate to a climate more
congenial to health and groiving scalps.”

“ But you ort to heard what they said, boss. It war good,
I tell ye—money in it,” said Sulky.

“ Then you heard, did you?”

“ To be sure I did. How could I help it, when I sot
within a rod of them in the bushes? But Lor’, I war mortal
afeard that o’nery-lookin’ our 0’ the’r’n ’d scent me out.”

“ Well, what did they say?”

“ The feller that we chased did all the talkin’ nearly. He
talked ’bout a child he war in s’areh of. He said it war an
heir to a big pile 0’ cash somewhar; but the footy didn’t
know whether it war a gal or a boy. He said the chile war
stolen by an or’nery sneak-thief a few minits arter it war
born, and no one of its friends knows its sex. But a rap-
scallion of an old woman, who helped the feller that he called
Geer—”

“ Geer?” exclaimed White Falcon, as if startled by a clap
of thunder from the clear blue dome of the heavens above—
“ did he say Geer, Sulky? Raymond Geer?”

“ That’s ther very handle, boss, he give. Raymund Geer.
You must know sumthin’ ’bout him, the way ye look, ole
feller.”

The chief made no reply. He became deeply absorbed in
thought. His eyes sought the ground; he passed his hand
nervously over his brow, as if to aid in recalling to memory
some half-forgotten incident of the past. Sulky saw his per-
turbation of mind, and in hopes of supplying the missing
link to his clouded memory, he continued:

“ He said he war huntin’ fur that heir or heiress, and that
sumin’ had writ to him to look ’bout the Niobrara settlemint.
He said you took a pieter from him that war a likeness o’
the mother 0’ the child, be it gal or boy."

Again White Falcon started. He had not thought of the
picture since placing it in his pocket. He took it out and
gazed at the pretty, fair face therein. A light of recognition
beamed in his gray eyes, and something like a sigh escaped

\

 
his lips. It was something like a sigh that would come of
a sudden sting of remorse, though the chief’s friends had
long since decided that his heart was incapable of human
feeling.

“Fool that I have been,” he ﬁnally exclaimed, as he be-
gan pacing to and fro, his head bowed in the deepest thought;
” why didn’t I recognize her face before?—the face of her
whom I once actually loved, and whose rejecting of my love
made me what I am.

“ Taken in time, I might have forced the secret from Jon-
athan Duncan’s lips, and would have done it had we not
been a set of fools and given heed to that accursed old Ora-
cle. Raymond Geerl Man of sin and misfortune! What
a life has been yours! And who is Raymond Geer?——ah, my
own guilty conscience answers you, White Falcon, alias
Donald Gray. You are the man that took the child from old
dame Frone’s hands, and carried it away, and gave it into
the keeping of the wife of Caleb Bond, the boatman; you
did it all to crush the heart of her who rejected your love, a
heart that even then lay cold in death—insensible to joy or
sorrow. But, let me see; it has been nearly twenty years
since I did the inhuman crime, of which I have not thought
in the past ﬁve years, so busy has been my life of wicked-
ness and adventure. But, fool that I was, I never thought
to inquire what the sex of the child was, and, as God’s my
judge, I don’t know to this day whether it is a girl or boy,
or whether it exists at all. In fact, I never saw old Frone,
nor Mrs. Bond, nor the child, after that night’s work. For,
its mother dying, I had no further vengeance to feed, and so
I left that country forever. But now, after twenty years,
the matter comes straight home to me. Old Betsy~ Frone in
dying confessed her sin; an uncle offers a reward for the lost
heir. Surely the millennium has come, else that uncle can
not inherit the estate himself. Well, Jonathan Duncan is
in search of that heir or heiress. I am almost positive now
it is a girl, and that she resides at Niobrara settlement, and
is known by the name of Edith Duﬁord. I have seen that
girl once or twice, and I thought then that there was some-
thing strangely familiar about her face, but I was too busy in
other work to give her a second thought. The instant, how
ever, that I saw this picture today, I remarked the great
resemblance between it and Edith Dufford; and, let me see
-—yes, by heavens, fool that I was again, I told Duncan
then that I knew where I could lay my hand on the counter-
part of this picture. But I will strike at once for Niobrara.
Ishall look into the matter, and if Edith Dufford is the
daughter of Martha Lonsdale, I swear by Heaven that the sins
of the parents shall be visited upon the child.”

This mental resolution appeared to afford the heartless
villain some relief, and in a measure compensated him for
his recent losses. Turning, he mounted his horse and
headed toward Niobrara settlement, followed by his warriors.

He had journeyed but a short distance, when a thought
seemed to have struck him quite forcibly. He drew rein,
and addressed his warriors thus:

“Braves of the Yankton Sioux, Dakota Dan and Jonathan
Duncan must not be allowed to escape alive. Let half of
my followers turn back—take up the trail of the two white
men, and never sleep till their scalps hang at your girdles.”

This order was accepted with a shout of approbation.
The division was soon effected, and the two parties separated
upon their respective journeys.

 
CHAPTER VIII.
JONATHAN A WANDEnnn.

WE left Dakota Dan and Jonathan Duncan in the forest
glade, startled by the two ﬁgures that came crashing from
the undergrowth into view. The ranger strained his sight

 
, ttz'wn.a........ .,_ .

 
“MM

‘74

(J

 
Dakota Dan. 1 3

 
in the dim moonlight, endeavoring to make out the two
forms, that at times seemed incorporated into one. So rapid
were their movements, that the eye could scarcely follow
them; but suddenly an angry growl proclaimed the truth—-
it was the dog, Humility, and a savage. The latter had
looked his arms around the animal and was hugging his
shaggy form to his own, so that the brute could not exert
his full and terrible power upon him.

The dog had his fangs buried in the naked shoulder of
the rcdskin, but the desperate hug of the latter prevented
him from changing his hold to a more vital part. Dan
ﬁnally saw the situation of the combatants, and drawing his
knife, started to the dog’s assistance. But, at the same in-
stant, something clutched him by the legs, and he was thrown
to the earth. He saw a ﬁgure rise above him; it was the
ﬁgure of the supposed dead savage—the victim of Patience’s
heels. The next instant he was engaged in a hand-to-hand
encounter.

Jonathan Duncan rushed to the ranger’s assistance, but the
combatants whirled away across the glade into the darkness
so rapidly, that he dare not strike for fear Dakota would
prove the victim. He turned to help the dog through with
his adversary, hoping the animal would render his master
the aid that he could not But his assistance was not re-
quired. Already the dog had his foe by the throat. The
savage‘s eyes were protruding from their sockets [and the
bloody froth stood upon his lips and oozed from his nostrils.
Feebly and harmlesst the ﬁngers of the doomed warrior
clutched and tore in spasmodic efforts at the form of the
beast; but ﬁnally he ceased to struggle at all; he became
motionless; a convulsive straightening of the form—a quiver
of the muscles of the face, and all was over. ,

Then Duncan called the dog off, and started to the assist-
ance of the ranger. But where was he? Jonathan stopped
and listened. He heard a loud plash in the river—a ﬂoun-
dering in the water. The combatants had rolled into the
Keys. Pahal

1
Like an arrow, Humility lanced sway into the gloom of the,

woods in the direction of the river, and Jonathan followed
him. ‘

Aery suddenly rent the air. It was an Indian cry. Other
warriors were approaching. Duncan could already hear Hu-
mility, a few paces away, engaged with one of them.” He
could hear the others coming on through the V undergrowth,
and, cognizant of his peril, he bent his course to the right and
hurried down the river a short distance. concealing himself,
he gazed up the river in hopes of seeing Dan. He saw that
the hitherto placid bosom of the river was agitated and tur-
bulent. Tiny waves chafed the shore at his feet. But no-
where upon the bosom of the river could hewsee either of the
combatants. He could her no sound indicative of the strug-
gle still going on, but what the result of the conﬂict had been
he knew not. He dare not call to the ranger, for he knew it
would bring a dozen warriors upon him.

i Satisﬁed that he could render the'ranger no assistance,
Duncan hurried back to the glade, and turning Dan‘s‘mare
1008c, mounted his own animal and rode nway,'scarcely know-
ing whitncr he went. 'He'moved on; the moon went down;
the sky became clouded, and the forest wrapped in Egyptian
gloom. Suddenly Duncan found himself bewildered." Tie
knew not where, nor in what direction he was going. "He
mOPDed and waited for daylight, but this brought no relief.
Not far awav he discovered a party of saVages encamped on
a little knoll. He could leave his covert of shrubbery in no

direction without being seen by the foe ' He waited for dark-1

nose to make his escape. When it at last came he set forth;
but the difﬁculty of the previous night againpbefell him. He
became bewildered, and was compelled to waitvfor daylight.
When day was again ushered in, he set out‘o‘n his journey,

 
all the while subsisting entirely upon wild fruits that grew in
the forest.

The third night following that of his seperation from Da-
kota Dan, set in. Clouds, black and ominous, drifted across
the brow of the heavens, shutting out the starlight. Not a
voice could be heard In the forest; a deep, deathly silence
pervaded the night.

Jonathan rode on; the night advanced. Suddenly the
scream of a panther echoed through the forest aisles. A
wolf answered back in mournful symphony. Duncan shud-
dered; to his suﬂering and privations, the horrors of night
added new persecutions and dangers; but suddenly, through
the dismal gloom, he caught the glimmer of a light. Hope
sprung up anew in his breast, and he spurred on his half-jaded
beast, never dreaming but that the light proceeded from the
camp-ﬁre of friends. _

Suddenly he came to a halt. The camp-ﬁre was not far
away, but the Keys Paha rolled between.

 
CHAPTER IX.
m FEMALE arrives—4m DEAD UPON THE BEACH.

THE bee-hunters had been gone one day from Niobrara
settlement. Every thing at the village had gone quietly for-
ward in‘ its old accustomed track, though the young men
were greatly missed; It made the settlers realize more fully
their own feeble strength and the inadequacy of their power,
should the Indians swoop down upon them.

None felt more lonely, anxious and uneasy than did Edith
Duﬁord. She was not so‘ uneasy about her own safety nor
that of Niobrara as she was of Ruben’s. The former were
not even threatened, as she was aware of, while her lover
was going straight into the midst of dangers.

On the day following that'of her lover’s departure she, in
company with a spinster lady of some thirty years, went to
visit a friend nearly a mile from the settlement. It was
nearly sunset when they ' took their departure for home.
Their course lay along a cow-path leading from the village
to the plain, and running through a' narrow belt of timber
that shut the village from their view. _

They were walking along in silence When Mehitable Van
Fleet, Edith’s companion, remarked:

“Law sakes alive, child, why don’t you say sumthin‘!”
She said it all in a single breath, for Miss Mehitable was one
61 those persons who could talk along for minutes in the
same unvarying strain, apparently all in one breath. She
could not pride herself on her beauty, for she was very plain-
featured. She was an avowed man-hater, but this dislike
may have originated through a want of appreciation on the
part of the men during her young girlhood days. Mchitable
also had a tongue and temper of her own, and never let an
opportunity pass when she oculd'make good use of them, for
they worked better when both were in’action.

' “ I was thinking, aunt Mehitable,”’replied Edith.

“ Bless my soul alive, you are always thinkin’l” rattled
Mehitable; “and I dare say that boy Rube Gregg is the sub-
ject of it all.” '

“ Yes; I was just wondering if he was safe, aunty ”——tho
young folks always called her aunty.

" "‘ Safe?” replied the spinster, with a disdainful toss of the
head and curl of the lip; “bless my soul, the world ’d be
better OR a blessed sight if there weren’t a man in it.”

‘ “ You don’t think so, now; I know you don't, sunty.
You like the men, but hate to let it be known, now don’t you i”

"/Mer-cy, Edith Duﬁordl" exclaimed Mehitable, elevating
her-hands, as if in hon-org“! could just switch you good,
you little rascal. 'Me.‘ Mehitable Van Fleet, like the menl

14 Beadlejs Dime Library.

 
Well, that is a good joke—I declare to nature it is; but
there’s not a word of truth in it. Why, bless you, girl, I
could ’a' married forty times if Pd a bin a mind to.”

Edith laughed and moved on; she had no desire to argue
the matter with Mehitable. They entered the narrow belt of

'1 timber heretofore mentioned, and were proceeding briskly
along when two ﬁgures sprung out of a clump of bushes that
fringed the path, and confronted them.

Both were Indians, hideous in war-paint. A dark, evil
and sinister smile rested upon the sensual face of each.

The women screamed and turned to ﬂee. Heavy hands
seized them rudely and detained them. Edith grew pale and
speechless with terror, while Mehitable grew enraged and
opened a tirade of abuse and vindictive threats upon her cap-
tor, at the same time plying her nails and teeth in a manner
that for a while promised her the best of the situation. But
the brute strength of the savage ﬁnally overpowered her, an!
her hands were bound at her back.

“ Oh, Lord in heaven!” she cried, her eyes snapping ﬁre,
and her face the picture of fury and rage; " you red, horrid
heathens, it’s a good thing you’ve tied my hands, or I’d
scratch your daggery, wolﬁsh eyes outen your consarned
heads! I’d streak your nasty, dirty, greasy faces wusser than
they be—yes, I’d tear your very liver pins out! Shame on
you, you great, loaﬁng vagabonds, skeering the life out of two
young, helpless girls!”

“ Hoah!” exclaimed one of the savages, “you much young
girl in wisdom—heap old in wrinkles and ugly face. "

“Oh, salvation! If I only had the use of my ﬁnger-nails
I’d scratch you gray, you dirty wretchl Purty things, aren’t
you? Skeering us outen our wits!”

“I am inclined to think,” said one of the savages, in plain
English, that told that he was a white man in disguise, “ that
you never had any wit; think it ali run to tigerosity and
wild-catism.”

“ Taunt, you great, horrid lummixl taunt two helpless
women now that you’ve got them tied. Brave, gallant fel-
lows you are—worthy of the names of Indian warriors and
— I’ll scream my eyes out if you don’t let me loose l”

The disguised renegade laughed at the engraged spinster
in a manner that served to provoke her anger. Finally he
said, touching the handle of his tomahawk:

“ See here, you are both to go with us, and that quietly,
too. If you persist in keeping that tongue of yours wagging
in a manner to alarm the whole country, I will bury this
tomahawk in your old brain.”

“ I’ll scream if you kill me; I’ll have my say—I’ll have
my last word if the heavens fall upon us—I’ll—”

“Bind this over the ranting jade’s mouth,.8ulky,” said
the renegade—who was none other than White Falcon him-
self—handing his companion a large yellow handkerchief
which had fallen from Mehitable’s shoulders in her scufﬂe
with the half-breed.

With some difﬁculty Bulky succeeded in binding Mehitable;
then the two women were conducted to where four horses
were hitched and several mounted Indians were in waiting.
The captives were then mounted upon two of the animals,
and at once conducted away northward by their savage cap—
tors. By the time they had cleared the woods and gained
the open prairie beyond, it was dusk. Far back behind
them the captives could see lights twinkling in the cabins of
the settlement, and their hearts sunk within them as they
thought of the dear homes and friends they were leaving be-
hind for a fate no doubt worse than death. They knew
they would be missed, of course, but it would be daylight
ere their friends would discover their capture; then they
would be many miles away.

The party plunged into the prairie and rode at a furious
pace. Both Edith and Mehitable were excellent equestri-

 
ennes, and although their captivity weighed heavily upon
their hearts, the ride was cool and invigorating to the body
if not the mind.

Mehitable’s gag had been removed, but the swiftness of
their gait took her breath whenever she opened her mouth to
“ scream her eyes out.” Edith sat sad and silent. Her
thoughts went back to her home, and then away of]? up the
Niobrara, to her 10Ver, Ruben Gregg. She thought over
their peril; she believed their capture had been the result of
a matured and preconcerted plot, that was to be carried into
effect as soon as the bee-hunters had departed from the settle-
ment.

Darkness ﬁnally wrapped the plain in its somber shadows.
One by one the stars came out. By and-by the moon drifted
slowly into view, bathing the plain in its mellow, shimmer-
ing light, and rendering objects weird and unnatural.

Still on over the plain thundered the grim,.painted and
plumed warriors with their fair, white captives, only the
“ swish " of the grass and the pounding of the horses’ feet
upon the plain breaking the silence of the night.

At length they came to where another party of savages
had made a temporary halt. It was evidently a relay-party,
for the chief stopped only long enough to change horses.

Continuing on for long, weary hours, they ﬁnally drew
rein upon the banks of the glimmering Keya Paha. Here
all dismounted. The horses were given into charge of sev-
eral warriors, while White Falcon, the half-breed Sulky, and
a savage called Black Crow, conducted the two captives
down to the edge of the water. Sulky drew a large canoe
from under some bushes. It had evidently been placed there
for that express occasion, for the women were hurried aboard
of it, and all embarked for up the river.

The half-breed and red-skin propelled the canoe, each be-
ing provided with a paddle, while the chief kept ward and
watch over the two desponding captives.

The latter sat locked in each other’s embrace, Edith shed-
ding scalding tears and sobbing as if her heart would break;
while Mehitable, by turns, poured wbrds of hope and conse-
lation intended for her, and words of vindictive rage intended
for their captors, into her ears.

Slowly the moon rode into the heavens, crossed the tenith
and declined westward. Shadows ﬁnally began to creep out
from the shore and mantle the bosom of the river.

The .dip of the paddles, the swash of the waves, the
labored breathing of the paddlers, with now and then the
startling scream of a night-hawk, the screech of an owl, or
the croak of a bull-frog, were the only sounds that disturbed
the profound stillness of the night.

The canoe labored on and on. Sadder and sadder grew
the hearts of the captives as the distance between them and
home grew longer. Edith watched the shores in hopes of
seeing some friend or friends in pursuit. I But vain hope—
only the purple shadows hovered, assassin-like, along the
shores. ' '

Suddenly a deep, heavy sound came thrilling out upon the
still night, and echoed far away through the valley of the
Keya Pubs. The savages ceased their labor; the canoe stood
still; all listened intently. From away down the river came
the deep haying of some animal.

” “ A. timmer-wolf," said Sulky.

White Falcon shook his head. He was sure it was not a
wolf, but a dog, and his thoughts at once reverted to the
ranger, Dakota Dan. He grew uneasy and counseled greater
speed—the savage and half-breed dipped their paddles and
the canoe glided forward, fairly leaping under the strokes of
the ﬂashing blades. I , '

A ray of hope beamed in the breasts of the captives. The
source of their captors’ fearswas a source of encouragement

and promise to their dejected spirits.

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.m. _ *;

 
Dakota Dan. 15

 
They journeyed on nearly a mile further, when Mehitable
suddenly felt Edith’s form convulsed with a violent shudder.
She saw that the maiden’s eyes were ﬁxed upon the w'ater,
and permitting her own gaze to be drawn in that direction,
she, too, started with a-shudder. She was just in time to
see the cause of Edith’s emotions. It was a human face—a
thin, rough-bearded face, with a great, gory wound across
the right cheek, that ﬂoated past them within arm’s \length
almost. Masses of tangled hair ﬂoated around the strange
brow and face that bore the seal of death upon it. It was a
horrifying object, and sent a chill of terror to the hearts of
the captives; and, although it soon passed from sight of the
eye, it still haunted the mind like the vision of a fearful
dream.

Singular as it may seem, the dead face escaped the eyes of
the savages. Their attention was ﬁxed upon the shores and
the river far ahead or behind.

A hundred sad, mental questions arose in Edith’s mind
regarding the face of the dead, unknelled stranger. Was
some fond wife or child, or friend, waiting and watching in
vain for the coming of the dear face that was then staring
upward from the waters of the Keys Paha into the ghostly
moonlight? Or was he some friendless trapper, fallen by the
wayside, unmourned and unnoticed by all save Him that
notes even the sparrow’s fall?

Edith’s reﬂections were suddenly interrupted by the deep,
mournful howl of a dog a. short distance in advance of them.
At this point the timber receded from the shore, and the
moonbesms were permitted to fall unobstructed on the whole
river, excepting a narrow border along the west shore. A few
rods in advance of the canoe was a little sandbar, whose mar-
gin was fringed with short aquatic plants and slimy reeds.
Upon this island the savages beheld a dog seated upon his
haunches, with his nose thrust upward in the air, while howl
after howl, deep and mournful, and ﬁlled almost with hu-
man sorrowing, trembled forth from his lips.

Again the canoe was permitted to come to a stand, and
with bated breath and distended eyes the occupants watched
the dog. Ever and anon the animal would cease its wailing
howls, bend its head and sniff around a dark object stretched
before it upon the sand—only to break forth again in a more
dismal refrain.

The savages turned to White Falcon, an interrogative look
upon their faces.

“ We must move carefully,” the chief said, with a dubious
shake of the head. “ That’s'Dakota Dan’s dog, if I mistake
not, and he may be trying to come the Oracle over us again.
Have your weapons at hand for instant use, then move on
carefully. There is something lying before the dog that
looks like the body of a man. Perhaps the boys overtook
that infernal ranger and that man Duncan, and have played
fun with their calculations, and that dog is whining over his
master’s old carcass? So if this is the case, it wasn’t the ran-
ger‘s dog we heard down the river. Creep on carefully, and
the ﬁrst form that moves besides the dog’s will get a bullet
right through it.”

The canoe slowly and silently crept onward, and in
a few minutes it came alongside of the sandbar and stop-
ped.

A cry of horror escaped the lips of the party, far a fearful
sight met the eyes of all. A man. dressed in the Water'soaked
garments of a hunter lay motionless in death upon the edge
a! the bar. His legs and right hand and arm were still sub-
merged in the water, the dog having been unable to pull him
entirely out. His hair was wet and draggled with sand and
dirt, and clifng in scraggy locks about his face and neck.
Green, slimy moss was washed in among his hair and beard,
and draped his shoulders and limbs In horrible festoonery.
His left arm lay partially doubled under the body. The chin

 
was thrown backward, the mouth open, the lips drawn tightly
over the white teeth, and the half-closed eyes staring heaven-
ward. Upon the check was a deep wound, extending nearly
across the side of the face, though not serious enough of itself
to have produced death.

The form and face was that of Dakota Dan, the ranger!

White Falcon and his warriors recognized it as the face of
the old Oracle—the animal as his dog Humility.

The captives gave the repulsive object a glance, and both
at once felt positive that it was the same face, with the same
gory wound upon it, that they had seen ﬂoating on the water
far down the river.

“ Oho!” ejaculated White Falcon; “ the old Oracle of
Peace, Dakota Dan, has met his fate. The boys must have
dOne it for him, but they haven’t got his scalp. See that it
is secured, Black Crew.”

The dog cowered down by the lifeless form of his master,
licked the wound upon his cheek, then sent forth a howl of
distress so deep and mournful that it touched the heart of the
captives with pity, and brought tears of sympathy to their
eyes.

Black Crow sprung out onto the Island, and with kicks
and scolds attempted to drive the poor, dumb brute away,
but he cowered still closer to the form of his beloved dead,
and a howl as if of human agony issued from his lips when
the savage drew his scalping-knife, placed his foot upon the
breast of the prostrate ranger, and stooped to tear the scalp
from his head!

CHAPTER X.
A sUDDnN TURN on AFFAIRS.

Emma and Mehitable turned their eyes away to shut out
the horrible, inhuman act of scalping the dead, and pressed
their hands upon their ears that they might not hear the keen,
glittering blade tearing across the old man's head.

With an air of triumph the savage stooped and twined his
fingers in the wet, draggled locks of the ranger. The knife
was descending to do its cruel, mutilating work, when the
hitherto motionless form stirred, and something like a hiss
escaped his lips. A shaggy form shot through the air, and
the next instant Black Crow felt Humility’s fangs tearing into
the quivering muscles and tendons of his throat.

With a shout that would have done credit to a pair of
brazen lungs, Dakota Dan leaped to his feet. In the hand
that had lain submerged in the water he clutched along
hunting-knife.

White Falcon reached for the revolver in his girdle, but to
his surprise and horror it was gone. Mehitable had, with
great presence of mind, lifted it from his belt while his atten-
tion was drawn elsewhere, and dropped it overboard.

One leap and Dakota Dan Was in the canoe—one blow and
Sulky received the deadly knife in his heart, and sunk a quiv-
ering, lifeless mass in the canoe. Dan turned to confront the
third enemy, White Falcon. But that worthy was beyond
the reachof the ranger’s arm. The chief, comprehending his
situation in a moment, sprung from the canoe into the river
and swam ashore, and gained the shelter of the woods.

Edith Duﬁord had fallen in a swoon at the beginning of
the conﬂict, while Mehitable, with her hands clasped over her
breast, sat swaying to and fro like a reed in the wind, utter-
ing a series of hysterical screams.

Dan lifted the form of the dead half-breed from the bottom
of the boat where he had fallen, and consigned it to a watery
grave; then turning to Miss Van Fleet, said:

“ There now, woman, ye needn’t scream like a painter.

The hull thing’s over with. ar’n’t it? Hain’t hurt, be you?"

 
16 Beadle’s Dime Libr

 
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“ Ho-oh, Lord, no-ohl" replied Mehitable, speaking and
screaming in the same breath.

“ Then if you could put a quietus to yer vocal appendage,
I’d advise it as bein’ mortal congenial to yer health, as red-
skins are not overly shame in this yer vicinity. See to it
that yer friend‘s not dead while I pull this ‘ere canoe into the

l shudder of the shore.”

I The ranger called Humility into the canoe, then took up
the paddle and turned the craft toward the darkest shore of
the river.

Mehitable soon brought Edith out of her swoon, and when
the maiden had learned that she was safe—had been rescued
by a friend, she poured words of joy and thanks upon the
head of her deliverer.

“ Lor’ bless me, chile,” said the old ranger, his eyes kind-
ling with joy, and his whole face beaming with admiration,
“it makes my ole heart feel good to hear sich words from
sieh lips. It’s been a long time since these cars hev heard
maiden lips praise the deeds of Dakota Dan."

“ Dakota Dan!” exclaimed the fair Edith, in surprise;
“ are you Dakota Dan, the ranger?”

“ Yes, ma‘am, I be, what the cussed—I mean—excuse me,
gals—what the pesky varlets hev left of me.”

“ Oh, aunty! then we can feel safe with this good, kind
ranger of whom we have heard so much.”

“ His being a man ’s all the objection I’ve got to him,” re-
plied Mehitable, with a sigh.

“ Ye don’t like men, then?” said Dan. “ Ar’n’t married,
he ye?”

“ No, I am not, and that’s not the worst of it—I never
will be as long as Mehitable Van Fleet knows herself l” retorted
the spinster.

“ Whar do you live, gals?” asked Dan.

“ At N iobrara settlement. ”

“ Indeed! When war ye kapteredf”

“ Just about dusk to-night."

“ Wal, wal, it war lucky I war hereabouts. I’ll see that
ye're keered fur, gals. This yer’s Humility, my dorg, what
knows more’n a million Ingins do; and he can be substantially
relied onto with safety. Judas! didn’t he lay it on ﬁne as
chief mourner over his marster up to the sand-bar? He’s a
lovely, sagaeious dorg, gals! He seems to see and know what
I think, and ’t ’d do yer soul good to hear him talkin’ dog
talk. He's most awful sorry ’bout this wound on my
cheek.”

“ It is a serious- looking wound, Dakota Dan,” said
Edith.

“ Yes, it’s a ’tarnal big leak—gallons of good blood spilt
out that—the hull Keya Paha’s half blood, and bin on the
raise ever sense I got that cut. I’m gorin’ to tie it up purty
soon, I swar I am. Ye see we got into a skrimmage awhile
ago up the river in the water, and the red nigger handled his
knife so mortal slow that it got in the way and cut that
mountain pass. But ye can bet yer giz—-—I mean yer purty
eyes, fur ye see I’m not used to wimin society and don’t alers
speak the most dictionary words. I used to be a purty good
skollar—knowed ‘every letter from a to izzard, and wa’n’t no
slouch at readin’ and cipherin’ and sich; but I’ve got most
awful rusty and ye mustn’t git mad at me, gals, if I say rough
words. But—but I’ve lost my subject. Let me see—oh,
thunder, yas. I war goin’ to say I give the red-skin, what

cut this ditch on my face, a settler atwixt the ribs that num-
bered him among the dead. Then fur fear a pack of red
hashints war watchin’ me to come out of the water to grab
me, I jist ﬂopped over on my back and ﬂoated off down the
river, and Judeal—I passed right under yer very noses and ye
didnt’ see me."

“Not much you didn’t pass under my nose unseen, Mr.
Dakota Daniel," replied Mehitable, as fast as she could talk;

 
“ fur 1 and Edith see’d you, and thought you were dead as a
door-nail, and half 'composed."

“ .lt’s a mortal wonder yer didn’t scream, ole woman,”
said the ranger, not altogether pleased with Mehitable’s vol-
ubility of tongue.

“ Call me old, do you? You’d better look to home
you—”

“ Aunty, auntyl” interrupted Edith, in a gentle, rebuking
tone; “ don‘t forget that we owe our escape to Dakota Dan,
and are yet dependent upon his protection and guidance;
we must not bring him into trouble by loud and useless talk-
ing.”

“ No man can git the better of me a-talking, as long as my
name is Mehitable Van Fleet. I’ll scream my eyes out before
I give up to let a man have the last word. I’m going to en-
joy the freedom of speech for which our forefathers ﬁt and
died on Bunker‘s Hill. I’m a woman, Edith, and Dakota
Daniel should court my—my friendship, ’stead of me coket—
ting to him.”

This vehement declaration was made in the absence of
Dakota Dan, who leaped ashore to seek a landing for the
maiden and spinster.

He soon returned, and running the canoe to the point se-
lected, assisted the women ashore and conducted them away
into the forest. When they had journeyed nearly a mile,
Dan ordered a halt, when he uttered a succession of pe-
culiar whistles, much to the wonder and surprise of the two
females.

A few minutes of silence followed the ranger's call, then a
heavy trampling, as of hoofed feet, was heard approaching
through the undergrowth.

“ What is it, Dan ?” questioned Edith, in a low, soft tone,
slightly agitated with fear.

“ Oh, Lord sakes, the Ingins are coming!" cried Mehitable,
swinging her hands in despair.

“Yer mistaken, Miss Fas’talker,” replied Dan; “lookey
thar—that's what it is. "

A riderless horse made its appearance from the darkness of
the woods, and approached Dan with a low whinny.

“This, ladies, are my mare, Patience,” said the ranger;
“ both she and my dorg Humility know more’n a dictionary-
maker. Patience, my mare here, comes of mortal good blood
—good as ever kicked the daylights outen an Arab; and Hu-
mility, my dorg thar, is as good as ever scratched gravel oﬁ’n
an Alpine peak, or dug snow for a St. Bernard monk. I
swear bylthem critters, gals, for their like never was; why, I
could trace their pedigree cl’ar back to Noah and the
ark!”

“ Tel he! he!" laughed Mehitable, nudging Edith, “ what
a tongue that man’s got—a perfect ole woman to gabble, ain’t
he?"

The ranger patted his mare and fondled his dog in a man-
ner that manifested his great affection for them; and his fond
caresses were received with a mute expression of animal in-
telligence and joy.

Finally the ranger turned to the women, and said:

“ Gals, I’m goin’ to leave you here with my'mare and dorg,
and go arter my riﬂe. I'll be back soon; ye needn’t have
any fears. ” -

As he concluded, the old ranger glided away into the
shadows. He was gone but a few minutes, returning with
the weapon he had gone in search of in his possession.

“ Now I’m myse’f ag’in, gals. I’ve got my tools all to-
gether—Patience, my mare here, Humility, my dorg that,
and ole Jerk’emstiﬂ, my riﬂe here I'm ready to sail out fur
tall timmer and Niobrara, and I want you two female wemin
o ride Patience, my mate here, fur ya can never do the
walkin’ that’s afore ye.” I

“But that will be depriving you of your animal, besides

 ,overtaxing it With a double burden," said Edith.

‘J

 
Dakota Dan. 17

“Judas, little un‘, how you talkl" blurted the ranger.
“ Patience is my mure’s name, and Patience is her nature.
She’d carry a mountain if it could sit on her back and she
war strong enough. But she is mortal p’iseu on a red-skin,
she is—just kicks the daylights smack smooth outen them;
now, if ye’ll jist step this way, I’ll boost ye up onto her
back, and we’ll be off fur other quarters.”

The women yielded to thc ranger’s request, and permitted
themselves to be assisted upon Patience’s back. Then Dan
gave Mohitable, who rode in front, the reins, and the party
set 011'. The old ranger took the lead and Humility brought
up the rear.

They journeyed on for a couple of hours, when, to the joy
of all, they beheld the first streaks of the morning dawn
shooting aslant the eastern sky. One by one the stars faded
from view—the moon sunk from sight, and at length the
golden bars of light, trembling along the eastern horizon,
burst into ﬂame.

The broad glare of the morning sun was upon them, dif—
fusing its warmth and brightness into the very souls of the
fugitives.

The birds came forth and sung their morning carols over-
head. Squirrels friskcd and chattered upon the trees, and a
myriad of wings that had lain dormant during the night now
ﬂashed in the cool, balmy air of early morn, that was fra-
grant with the perfumes of the wildwood—the great wild-
wood where, but a few hours before, darkness hung like a
pal], and death and terror stalked abroad.

 
0 H A P T E R X I .
our or run WILDERNESS.

DAKOTA DAN followed the downward course of the Keys
Paha, and as soon as the day had been fully ushered in he
ordered a halt for a few minutes’ rest, and to partake of a
meager repast from the remnants of dried venison in his
saddle-bags. .

Before sitting down to eat, however, Dan went down to
the river and made a thorough ablution, arranged his hair,
redressed the wound upon his cheek, and in every manner
improved his appearance so greatly that the females could
scarcely believe he was the same person.

“ I declare to goodness gracious, man!" exclaimed Mehit-
able, struck by the change effected by his toilet, “ you look
more like a man than ever, now.”

“Aunt Mehitablel” said Edith, reprovingly.

‘_‘ I’m not handsome, I know, gals,” the ranger replied,
“ no, not even at the best; and if I’m awk’ard and rude in
speech, you must jist consider that it’s my nater croppin'
out. I mean Well, gals, I do, I sw‘ar. You see Patience,
my mare here, and Humility, my dorg thar, are all the com-
panions I hev for months at a stretch sometimes, and a feller
will git a leetle slouchy talkin' hoss and dorg., But now,
ladies, jist lay hold on this ’ere venison and eat hearty.
We’ve a long tramp ahead of us, and you've got to hev sum-
thin‘ to lean on—I mean to strengthen you; so jist take hold
and do yer dooty.”

The females helped themselves to the venison, which the
ranger cut up into thin slices and placed before them. They
were not hungry, for the fears and excitements of the night
had kept them up, but they eat more out of respect for

Dan's noble generosity than from actual want. They en- ‘

deavored to show a due appreciation of all his acts of kind-
ness and close attention, for they saw it pleased him greatly.
/ When their repast Was ﬁnished, the journey was resumed.
They had traveled but a short distance when Humility began
to manifest alarm. Dun ordered a halt, and at once began a
recouiioissanCc of the surrounding vicinity. He discovered

 
two white men coming up the river toward them. One of
them he readily recognized as Jonathan Duncan, the friend
from whom he had been separated three nights before. The
other was a stranger to him, but Mehitable and Edith at once
recognized him as Tom Hobart, one of the Niobrara settlers
who had left the village with the bee-hunters. ,

The meeting was one of the greatest surprise and pleasure, ‘
especially to Dan and Jonathan, who, owing to the circum~
stances under which they had been separated, mourned each
other as dead.

In a few seconds Mchitablc spun off to young Hobart the
story of their capture and subsequent rescue by Dakota Dan.
In the mean time Jonathan and the old ranger were com-
paring notes. Each narrated the trying ordeal through
which he had passed, Jonathan closing the epitomizing of
events with the joyous news that he had struck the camp of
the bee-hunters, which was but a few miles down the river.

Edith Dufford’s heart leaped with jOy at this announce-
ment. She but a few miles from Ruben, her boy-loverl
The: thought was a joyous one. It brought the color back
into her face, the luster into her eyes, and the wonted music
into her voice.

The journey was again resumed, Duncan and Hobart
turning back with the fugitives. Hobart and the females
went on before, Jonathan and Dan bringing up the rear.
Each party was out of hearing of the other, and with those
in advance the conversation ﬁnally turned upon Jonathan
Duncan. ,

“I don’t like him, Edith," Mehitable said, with a look
intended to give vigor to her tone.

“Why not, Miss Van Fleet?” asked Tom Hobart.

“ Because he looks at Edith so curious, just as though
he’d look a dagger into her heart."

“ I noticed his regards, myself, Mehitable, though I
thought nothing of it at the time,” replied Edith.‘

“ I deem Mr. Duncan a perfect gentleman, Edith,” said
Hobart, “ and if he regarded you with an unusual want of
modesty, it was doubtless done through surprise or admira-'
tion." ' '

“ He‘s just like all the men,” asseverated Mehitable.

In the mean time the following conversation was going
on between Jonathan and the ranger:

“ I am now almost satisﬁed, Dan," Duncan continued, in
connection with the discussion of their late adventures,
“ that everything has turned out for the best, for I do believe
I have found the lost heir of the Lonsdale legacy.”

“You don't say, now, do you, Jonathan?" replied Dan,
apparently astonished.

“ As near as I can remember, the face in'the picture,
taken from me by White Falcon and his minions, is the very
image of that maiden riding yonder whom you called Edith
Duiford."

“ You don’t say, do you, Jonathan?"

“Yes, I am sure she is the person that I am searching
for. And I believe, as much as I live, that White Falcon
has remarked the resemblance between the girl and picture.
and from the clue furnished him by that note he also robbed
me of, he has sent his lndians to capture that girl in hopes
of accomplishing something by it. He may possibly know
more of the matter than I am aware of; however, I am sat,
isfied he mistrusts all I have surmised. As soon as we
reach the camp of the bee-hunters, and the women have
been rested, I shall approach Miss Duﬁord on the subject."

“ You really believe she’s the gel, do ye?“

“ I am almost positive of the fact; though, after all, she
may know nothing of her parentage nor her past life. The
matter, however, can be sifted out; and it will be, I assure
you, friend Dan, if we ever get out of this abominable om
try alive." I

 
18

Beadle’s ﬁime Library.

 
0 HA PT ER XI I.
ran BEE-HUNTER.

I'r had been the intention of the bee-hunters that left Ni-
obrara settlement to go up the Niobrara river, and in fact
they had started in that direction; but by the earnest solici-
tation of Ishmael Scarle, the government commissioner, they
were subsequently induced to change their minds and go up
the Kcya Paha. This change in their course had been decid-
ed upon before they reached the mouth of the last-mentioned
stream, consequently no time was lost. It required a day,
and half of the following night, to reach the ﬁeld where they
could begin operations; when they did, they went into a
temporary encampment till the following morning.

Being skilled bordermen, and fully aware of their surround-
ing dangers, their ﬁrst consideration was a camping‘place
where they would not be exposed to the sudden attacks of
savages, should any, bent on mischief, happen that way.
The point selected for this purpose was a small island in the
Keya Paha. But as even this was within range of either
shore, it was necessary that some sort of a barricade be ‘on-
structed, and the men at once set about the work. Being
provided with axes, they cut a number of long, slender logs
along the river-bank, rolled them into the stream and ﬂoated
them to the island, notched the ends and laid them in a double
wall six feet high. The space between the two walls was then
ﬁlled in with stone and sand, thus making an almost impreg-
nable defense. -

Nothing in the way of bee-hunting was done that day, but
on the following morning ﬁve of the party were armed and
equipped for a half day's hunting, leaving ﬁve at the island
to guard the camp—they to take the ﬁeld in the afternoon.

Among those who went out were Ruben Gregg and Ishmael
Searle, the government commissioner. 0n gaining the shore
every man took a different course. Each was provided with
a small tin cup partially ﬁlled with honeycomb, and a small
bottle ﬁlled with clear honey. These were the tools of the
bee-hunters, though many other articles could have been used
to advantage had they possessed them.

Ruben Gregg was a professional bee-hunter, devoting most
of histime to this occupation. He knew the nature of the
wild bee—his habits and peculiarities; and so he did not set
his bait as soon as he gained the woods, as most of his com-
panions did. He had obvious reasons for this: he knew there
were bees in abundance along the river, but they were there
for water, and would not return directly to their hives on
quenching their thirst, but in all probability go in an opposite
direction, in search of ﬂowers or something that yielded
sweets.

The youth pushed on far into the woods, and ﬁnally seated
himself upon a fallen log. By his side he placed a piece of
honeycomb, and ﬁlled a few of its cells from honey in the
bottle. He had only to await now the coming of a bee.
He did not grow restless nor impatient, for he knew that pa-
tience was one of the attributes of a successful bee-hunter.
He passed the moments in reﬂection. Naturally enough, his
thoughts went back to Edith and the settlement. Would he
have remained so passive had he known of the dangers
through which his sweetheart had passed since he last saw
her? or that, at that very moment, she and Dakota Dan were
lodged in safety at the camp he had just left?

The buzzing of an insect near his head suddenly arrested
the youth’s train of thought; and glancing down at his aide,
he saw, to his eminent delight, a bee settle down upon his
bait. Taking off his cap, he imprisoned the bee and bait
under it, pressing the edge of the cap down so as to exclude
every particle of light. He held it in this position some time,
and when he ﬁnally removed it, he discovered the bee half
buried in one of the honeyed cells. While in darkness, it
had been led to believe that it was in its own hive, and had set

 
to ﬁlling itself with the nectared sweets of the cell. Ruben
waited until it had ﬁlled itself, and when it emerged from the
cell and found open daylight around, it arose slowly up-
ward, circled around as if to mark the spot, then darted away
in a straight line northward. The trained eye of the young
bee-hunter was enabled to follow it some distance; and as it
disappeared from sight, a smile of satisfaction lighted up his
youthful face.

“ A pretty good ‘line,’ I am sure,” he mused; “ but here
is another bee — two, three of them.”

Sure enough, three more bees had settled upon the bait, and
Ruben at once imprisoned them under his cap. When he
removed the covering, he found the bees busy in the cells of
the comb; but, one by one they came out, rose up, and having
circling around the spot, ﬂew away. Two of them went in
the same direction as the ﬁrst one, and the other in an op-
posite course.

Ruben arose, secured his bait, and started away to ‘line’
the course taken by the three insects. He moved quite rap-
idly for some distance, when he slackened his speed and be.
gan searching for his bee-tree.

Experience had taught him that the wild bee usually made
its hive as high from the ground as possible; and that the
eye alone could not be depended on entirely, as the hight of
the insects or the dense foliage concealed them from view, as
they passed in and out of their hive. As their homes are
always made in a hollow tree, the bee-hunter ﬁrst selects a
tree whose outward appearance bears evidence of inward de-
fect. Then he makes the circuit of the tree, glancing careful-
ly along the body for the entrance of the hive. If failing in
discovering any hole, he places his ear against the trunk of
the tree, and if the bees are active, and his sense of hearing
is acute, he can generally hear a dull, buzzing sound vibrate
along the body of the tree.

Ruben ﬁnally came across a large tree whose lower parts
showed signs’of inward decay, but the foliage was so dense
that he made no attempt to test its secrets by the eye, but at
once applied his ear to the body of the tree. He started, and
a cry of delight burst from his .lips. Up among the foliage
he could hear the buzzing of myriads of wings distinctly.
He could not see the bees, however; nor was be positive that
they were in the tree under which he stood. There were
other large trees standing near, and even mingled their boughs
with those of the one ﬁrst selected, and should he make a
mistake in the tree, as he was liable to do when depending
entirely upon the ear, it would cause a great deal of confus-
ion and unnecessary labor when it came to securing the honey.
To determine this, the youth extended his search still further,
A novice would have become discouraged with half the pains
already expended by young Gregg; but the youth felt amply
rewarded for his pains, when, upon searching among the moss
and leaves for other evidence of the true bee-tree, he found a
number of dead bees, some small bits of honeycomb, and
other matter usually expunged from the hive of an active and
healthy colony of bees.

Being satisﬁed now that the tree under which he stood was
the right one, Ruben walked out a few paces from its trunk
and circled around and around it, until he ﬁnally discovered
the place where the bees entered the hive. He now made a
survey of the surrounding vicinity in order to familiarize him-
self with the locality aud select the best place to fall the tree.
As this was usually done after night, when convenient to
camp, it was highly necessary that the hunter make all his
calculations so there would be no delay, nor trouble of lodg-
ing one tree in another.

The youth having thus made his calculations, took out his
knife and cut a. perpendicular gash in the bark of the tree on
the side on which it was to be fallen. Under this he cut

his own private mark, so that other hunters could not lay
claim to the tree and its treasure.

 
Dakota Dan.

' ledge of the source of her sadness. But Edith had little to

l

19,-

 
His day’s work thus completed, he started on his return
to camp.

A low, soft, meaning whistle, suddenly arrested his attention.
He stopped and gazed around. He caught sight of the
ﬁgure of a man standing half concealed in a clump of shrub-
oery not far away. At the same instant he saw the man’s
arm sweep through the air—he heard something come clip-
ping through the Ieaves—something blurred his vision, and
with a groan he sunk unconscious to the earth—stricken down
by the hand of a hidden foe!

CHAPTER XIII.
A REVELATION.

THE sun stood upon its noontide meridian, and poured his
warm rays down upon the glimmering bosom of the Keys
Paha and the camp of the bee-hunters.

Eager, expectant eyes watched either shore from the little
barricade, expecting each moment the return of the ﬁve hun-
ters that had gone out in the morning.

Soon they began to drop in one by one until four had come.
Ruben Gregg was still absent. An hour went by and he
came not. Grave fears for his safety were now being written
upon every face; and there was one pair of watchful eyes in
the camp that ﬁlled with tears—a pair of lips that quivered
with some deep emotion. These were Edith Duﬁord’s.

Soon after the departure of the ﬁve bee-hunters in the
morning, Dakota Dan, Jonathan Duncan, Edith and Mehita-
ble were safely lodged in the camp of their friends.

Edith’s heart beat joyously in the expectation of meeting
Ruben. The time and circumstances under which she antici-
pated their meeting, would be a happy and joyous surprise
to him. She was bitterly disappointed, however, when on
arriving at the island, she learned that he had departed but a
few minutes previous. With all the impatience and anxiety
of youth she watched the sun creep slowly up the heavens.
It seemed to her as though noon would never come, and
that at times the sun stood still. But at length the hour for
her lover’s return came, and when the others came in and
he did not, her heart grew sad with disappointment and
fear.

Dakota Dan had astonished the bee-hunters with the intel-
ligence that a large party of Sioux were in the vicinity, and
upon’ the war-path with a vengeance. And had the party all
been present at the time, measures would have been taken for
an immediate return to the settlement.

In fact, those at the camp talked the matter over, and re-
solved, with the concurrence of the others, to return home as
soon as the party came in. But the non-appearance of Ruben
defeated all their calculations. They would not go off with-
out him, or knowledge of his fate.

So they waited until he had sufﬁcient time to get around,
in case he was not in trouble, or had ventured further away
than had been consistent with the time allotted him, and not
having made his appearance, parties were sent out in various
directions in search of him—Dakota Dan and his dog Humili-
W being the ﬁrst to leave the fort.

The afternoon was passed wearily, uneasily and anxiously
enough at the island. To Edith, the uncertainty that hung
over the life of her lover became almost agony itself.

Ishmael Scarle, the commissioner, excused himself from
partaking in the search for Ruben, upon the grounds of his
ignorance of the lore of the border. As he could make a
full hand, however, in defending the place, he felt that he
would be no incumbrance there, and so decided to re-
main. _

He saw that Edith was in trouble about Ruben, and en-
deavored to console her grief without compromising a know-

 
say to him, or to any one, in fact.

It was evident to the observing Jonathan Duncan that
Ishmael Scarle was enamored with the maiden, and was en-
deavor-lug to draw her aside that he might engage in private

convrrsation with her. At the same time, it was also evi-
dent that Edith managed to evade the commissioner, as if

she anticipated his object.

Duncan himself had also proved a source of annoyance
and uneasiness to Edith, nor was he entirely ignorant of the
fact. He had, quite frequently, permitted himself to be
caught studying her features in a solicitons manner. He
was trying to compare the features of the maiden with those
of the picture taken from him by White Falcon; and the
longer he gazed at her the stronger became his conviction
that she was the child of the Lonsdales.

During the afternoon, he gained the opportunity to
say:

“1 beg you will pardon my seeming want of manners,
Miss Duﬂord, in staring you out of countenance. But, if
you will give me a minute’s private conversation, I will ex-
plain why I have done so, and may tell you something to
your advantage.”

Edith breathed freer now; she granted the interview, and
walked with Duncan to the opposite side of the little fort.

“First, I wish to inquire, Miss Dufford, whether or not
your parents are living?”

Edith was surprised by the question. It was so different
from what she had expected that she felt herself disappointed.
She had hoped that he had something good to tell her of
Ruben—or at least, some idea to advance regarding the
youth’s prolonged absence from the camp. In a tone that
was indicative of her disappointment, she said:

“ They are not living.” 

Had Edith been looking at the man, she would have seen
the corners of his mouth twitch, and a light of satisfaction
and delight beaming in his eyes.

“ Have you relatives living at Niobrara?” he questioned.

“I have an uncle,” she replied, wondering whether she
was committing herself in a manner that would some day
bring her sorrow and trouble.

“ Then you live with your uncle?” Duncan pursued.

H I do.”

“ Is he your father’s or mother’s brother?”

V“ Mother’s."

“ Is he an aged man?"

“ He is about fifty, I believe.”

“ Was he a boatman on the
Niobrara, or at any time in his life?"

“ He may have been, though I can not answer for certain.”

“ What is your age?"

“Nineteen,” Edith replied; “ but I am sure,” she con-
tinued, “I confess my ignorance of what you desire to learn,
or ﬁnd out, by questioning me concerning my friends.”

“ You will please pardon me, Miss Duﬂiord, if I decline
for the present to tell you more than this: I am searching
for the lost heir or heiress of a large Eastern estate, and
have thought, with good grounds for it, too, that you are the
person I am looking after. However, I do not wish to com-
promise myself further, for fear the rightful individual, who-
ever that may he, would be defrauded, if the object of my
search becomes publicly known. Still, I have every reason
to believe, Miss Dufford, that you are the individual. If you
will grant me another interview, after the trouble and uneasi-
ness consequent upon the absence of the young bee-hunter
is settled, I will make a detailed statement of facts to you.
It, is not probable that you can fully establish yourself with-
out the concurrence of your uncle and aunt, as there are in-
cidents—links in the great chain of evidence—which only
they can supply,"

 
river before he came to

 
20 Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
A puzzled, reﬂective look settled upon Edith’s face. In
all her life she had never heard the slightest intimation of
what Duncan had hinted to her; and but for the positive
assurance of the man, the earnestness and honesty of his face
and tone, she would have believed he was trying to deceive
her for some purpose or other. Even .as it was, she thought
he was mistaken in the person he was in search of. She
knew her uncle and aunt were honest peOple, and would
keep nothing of her parentage concealed from her, throuin
evil motives.

Having promised Duncan another interview, the two sepa-
rated and mingled with the rest of the party.

Duncan assured himself that what had passed between
him and Miss Dufford had been unheard by any but them-
selves inside of the little defense. But in this he was mis-
taken. The keen ear of Ishmael Searle had drunk in nearly
every word of their conversation. And soon after the inter-
view had ended, the commissioner was seized with a strong
desire to go out and aid in the search for Ruben; and as no
one urged any serious objections, he immediately took his
departure.

“Lord!” exclaimed Jonathan, aside to young Hobart, “I
wish Dakota Dan was here now. I’d have him follow Ishmael
Searle to the end of the world I”

“ Why so, Mr. Duncan?” asked Hobart.

“ There’s something wrong about that man."

“Do you wish to insult me, Jonathan Duncan?" Hobart
asked, ﬁring up with resentment. “Mr. Searle, sir, is a
gentleman, and—"

The report of a ﬁrearm came through the woods, cutting
short the conversation between Hobart and Duncan—calling
their attention in the direction of the sound.

 
CHAPTER XIV.1
DAN MAKES A DISCOVERY.

WHEN Dakota Dan and his dog left the island in search
of Ruben Gregg, they moved briskly and silently away
through the forest in the direction that Ruben was supposed
to have taken.

The ranger had left his mare on the opposite side of the
river, free to roam at'will and feed upon the green herbage
of the woods.

Dan was satisﬁed that the young bee-hunter had fallen into
the hands of the Sioux, if he had not been shot down in the
forest. As he proceeded along, the ranger kept his whole
attention ﬁxed upon the movements of his dog, which was
allowed to precede him. He knew the keen scent of the
dog would not fail, where his own sight would, in detecting
the trail of the red-skins, were there any in the vicinity. In
this he was right. As they moved along, the dog suddenly
gave a low bark, then with his nose close to the earth he
began frisking hither and thither, his body half-crouched
upon the ground.

“ Struck it, by Judea! ar’n’t ye, old dorg?”

The dog looked toward his master and wagged his tail.
Dan stopped and reconnoitered the surrounding vicinity, but
could detect no sign of enemies about. He turned his atten-
tion to the movements of his dog. The animal had stopped
and was sniﬂing around a certain spot in a manner that told
Dan he was off the trail. Advancing to where he was the
ranger saw the cause of Humility’s queer actions. There
was a heel of blood upon the ground and leaves, and this
had deadened the scent of the anfmal and prevented him
from following up the trail of the red-skin. V

The blood was coagulated, although it had not been long
shed. and a careful examination of the surroundings convinced
him that it was the very spot where some person had fallen

 
under a blow. He found innumerable. moccasin-tracks in
the soft soil around theblood, and among these was the un-
mistakable imprint of a white man’s booted foot. This sur-
prised l)an. It was now evident to him that some white
man, who had not discarded the footwear of civilization, had
had a hand in the affair that shrouded Ruben’s disappearance
in mystery.

Dakota Dan was not the man to allow such a matter to
pass idly. He carefully raked the old leaves aside in Order
that he could see more perfectly the shape and outline of the
foot. He found it so plain and sharply deﬁned that there
was not a single doubt as to its exact size, and cutting a
slender stick, be measured the length of the track, and its
breadth; he charged his memory as to its shape, and made a
mental calculation as to the probable heft of the man by the
indentation of the foot.

This done, the ranger led his dog away from the blood,
washed his muzzle at a little stream hard by, then circled
the spot where the man had fallen until the dog again struck
the trail of the departing red-skins. He knew, by frequent
drops of blood along the way, that it was the trail of the
party that had the wounded person in custody. But, to his
surprise, he discovered that the booted foot was not among
those of the red-skins. He shook his head dubiously, while
a vague suspicion rush-ed across his mind—the suspicion that
some of Ruben’s own friends had been accessory to his mur-
der, if murder it was.

He had followed the trail two or three miles when Hu-
mility suddenly came to a stop, and crouching his whole
form upon the earth, glanced back at'his master, then thrust
his nose between his paws and moved his tail in a slow, ser-
pent-like motion.

“ By J udeal he p'ints danger; the game's in sight! Steady,
now, ole Tri-angle.” ‘

He stepped aside and concealed himself in a dense clump
of bushes, calling Humility to his side.

A few minutes later a white man came from the west and
paused within a few paces of where Dan was concealed. It
was Ishmael Searle, the government commissioner!

A few minutes later he was joined by the notorious reno-
gade chief, White Falcon!

It was evident they had met by appointment.

Dan beat his head and heard Searle ask, as the chief drew
nigh:

“ Well, did you get him secured?"

“ Yes, he’s where he'll not be found soon again. He’s
come to his senses, and has quit bleeding. Lord! you must
have given him a terrible jolt on the head. But how’s mat-
ters at the island?"

“Complicated.”

Dan ground his teeth and griped his knife till the bones in
his ﬁngers fairly cracked. I

“ Dakota Dan and Jonathan Duncan, with the women,
are there, as I told you before,” the ranger heard the villain

Searle continue. “ I overheard Duncan talking with Edith, '

and he appeared to be pretty well satisﬁed that she is the
right person. Dakota Dan is out looking for Gregg, as are
others of the bee-hunters also. By keeping a close look-out,
you may capture them; and every one killed or captured of
course will weaken the defense of the island."

“ To be sure it will,” mused Dakota Dan.

“ You can’t kidnap the girl, then?” White Falcon asked.

“ No,” responded Searle. “ I ﬁgured the question in
every possible way, but there is no chance whatever. She
is too closely guarded. The only hope lays in storming the
defense. In"that way we could get Duncan himself, per
haps; if so, we may force him to reveal all that would be of
importance to us in this matter.”

“ Well, what then i” questioned Donald Gray.

 
- raw m.-.

“MM-“g

 
.- .mmdﬁ

 
“ Then, if 1 cannot induce Edith to wed me, we can keep
her in custody, and substitute an heiress that would favor our
plans. "

“ That's so, Scarle," replied the chief. “ You are a deep
one, lshniael—as scheming as you are deceiving. Ha! ha!
hai—lsh Sorrel a government commissioner! That is a good
one. \Vhat a set of blockheads them Niobrarians must be
to let themselves be taken in by such a man in such a man-
ner! But I’ll bet you could keep it up all fall, and they
wouldn’t be any the wiser for it. They don’t know more
than the man in the moon who are agents and who are
not."

Dakota Dan ﬁngered his riﬂe nervously, and but for the
presence of two score of savage warriors but a short distance
away, he would have put an end to the existence of the two
white ﬁends. As it was, he was compelled to forego all
hostile demonstrations; but he felt amply repaid by what he
had heard, and chuckled to himself in anticipation of what
was to come.

“ You’re complimentary, Donald,” Searlc replied; “very
complimentary. But see here: you keep your tools scouring
the woods for those fellows that are now out, and I will re-
turn forthwith to the island and keep an eye and ear open
for the programme of the bee-hunters. If I should have a
voice in the proceedings, bet your life I’ll make it to our ad-
vantage. That old Dan, however, is likely to be the chief
spokesman and headecnter of the party, and it will require
great caution and skillful head-work to outwit him. But, as
I was going to say, I will meet you to-night about the time
the moon rises, at— Well, you say what point.”

“ You’ll have to leave the island in a canoe, won’t you .9—
well, then, drop right down the river, and I, with an escort
of warriors, will meet you in a canoe in the middle of the
stream, opposite the mouth of Rattlesnake creek. We can
hold our conference there, certain that no prying cars will
hear what is said. You want to make certain of the move-
ments of the bee hunters; the strength of their camp; the lo-
cation of the women‘s tent; and the most accessible point for
an attack. Just so we get the girl and Duncan into our
clutches, the latter dead or alive, is all we need trouble our-
selves about."

“ Well, then, let it be understood,” replied Searie, “ that
we meet on the river about the hour the moon rises. I’ll
have to study up an excuse between now and then, _in order
to get away from the island without being suspectet ."

” 0h, that’ll be no trouble for lab Sorrel to do," replied
Donald Gray, with a low, wicked laugh.

“ Then again let it be understood that we meet at moon-
rise, on the river, opposite the mouth of Rattlesnake
creek."

“ Yes, at moonrise, opposite Rattlesnake mouth,” repeated
Gray.

“ Jist so,” mused the old ranger, rubbing his hands with
delight and chuckling in glee; “ jist so, my birds of Para-
dise. At moonrise, on the river, oppersite the Rattlesnake’s
mouth! Well, I’ll admit I don’t like rattlesnakcs’ mouths;
but never mind; I’ll meet ye thar, my brace of worthy we-
min-stealin' cavaliers; bet yer gizzards On't, I Will- Oh,
yes! Dan-i-el Rackback ’ll be thar, and onto his mussel,
too.”

Without further conversation the two plotters, Searle and
Gray, separated, each one going his way

 
C H A P T E R X V.
THE WATER srv.
‘DAKo'rA DAN spent most of the afternoon searching for

Ruben Gregg, returning to camp about sunset. He was met
by Edith Dufford, as he entered the little fort, to whom he

Dakota Dan. 21

 
was compelled to impart the sad intelligence of the discov-
eries he had made regarding the fate of her lover. And
yet he cheered her with words or nope and consolation that
tended to drive away the total despondcncy that seemed to
overwhelm her.

The ranger found that lshmael Searle had preceded him
to camp by several hours, and appeared as deeply affected by‘
the unknown fate of Ruben as any one of the men. He was
a consummate villain, and could put on an appearance to
suit any occasion. However, he had his match in Dakota
Dan in some respects. In narrating his discoveries in-regard
to the pool of blood, he said nothing of the boot-tracks, nor
of anything that might arouse the suspicions of Scarle. 0n
the contrary, the ranger took sides with the villain in his
views regarding the defense of the island, and further search
for Ruben Gregg. Of course this was done to divert the at-
tention of Searle from the object he—Dan—had in View,
and throw him 01f his guard.

Before dark set in, however, Dan took the bee‘hunters
aside, along with Jonathan Duncan, and acquainted them
with the character of their friend, the government commis-
siouer; and the discoveries he had made, and the plots he had
overheard. He then instructed them as to the course he in-
tended to pursue, and in which he wanted their co operation,
in order to avert the doom that hung over the heads of the
little band.

i As soon as darkness fell, two guards were stationed on the
opposite extremities of the island. They were to be relieved
at midnight.

Dakota Dan had declared his intention of spending the
night ashore in reconnoitering, although he seemed in no
hurry about leaving the island.

Shortly before the moon came up, Ishmael Scarle ap-
proached him and said:

“ Dan, I believe we are in a predicament from which we
cannot escape unaided, and I have made up my mind to
start at once, under cover of this darkness, to Fort Randall
for relief. What do you think about it?”

“A good ijee, Mr. Searle; I war jist thinkin’ ’bout it my-
self,” replied Dan. “ If it wer’n’t fur these Wemin, we men
could ruff it through; but ole Dan Rackback ’ll shed barrels
of blood afore harm shell come to them wemin. Yes, go,
Searle, and tell ’em soldiers to buckle it down like thunder,
for thar’s no tellin’ how soon the Keya Paha ’ll be full of
deady smoky-skins."

“ Do you think they will make an attack to-night?” ques-
tioned Scarle.

“ Don't think they will. They’ll wait a day or two till
they git reinforcements.”

“ Well, then, I shall depart at once." said Sear-lo.

No one opposed the villain’s pretended act of mercy, for
by this time all were in the secret of his intentions.

While he was making preparations for departure and bid-
ding all good-by, Dakota Dan disappeared from the island,
leaving Humility at the fort. '

Searle ﬁnally took his departure in a canoe toward the
east shore, neglecting to take some one along to bring the
canoe back.

The night was extremely dark. The sky had become sud-
denly ovurcast with a white mist, and dull, leaden-g'ray
clouds came trooping up from the west like misshapen pirat-
ical crafts. The air was warm and sultry, and so vibrant.
that slight noises could be heard a long way 011'. The pip-
ing of the tree-frogs, the rasping croak of the bullfrogs, the
dull hum of insects, and the mysterious winnowing of noc-
turnal wings—all these, to an experienced borderman, would
have been a true prognostication of “falling weather.”

The bosom of the Keya Paha was as black as that of the
fabled Styx. Not an object could beseen upon it, and even

 
22 Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
the ripple of the waves and their recoiling swash along the
shore seemed muffled by the density of the gloom.

Ishmael Searle pulled rapidly toward the cast shore, and
when within a few paces of the bank, he headed his canoe
down-stream and moved with extreme caution, for fear the
diversion in his course would be discovered by those at the
island. In fact, he was so very careful on this point that
he lifted the paddle from the water, and concluded to let the
canoe ﬂoat at the will of the current until beyond all possible
danger of being heard. But the boat drifted sluggishly
through the water—as though the intense gloom acted as a
resisting power—and he was compelled to use the paddle.
When a few hundred yards below the island, however, he
plied the ashen blade with all his strength, and glided along
so rapidly that he was not aware of his proximity to the
mouth of Rattlesnake creek until suddenly challenged by a
voice which he recognized as that of the renegade, White
Falcon.

The next moment the two villains ran their canoes along-
side of each other, and at once entered into a low conversa-
tion which lasted several minutes.

When they separated, Searle returned toward the fort and
White Falcon to the shore.

A few minutes later savage yells and the report of ﬁrearms
rung along the river.

Ishmael Searle redoubled his exertions with the paddle,
and sent his canoe rapidly forward. He soon reached the
island in apparent excitement. He landed, tied up his canoe,
and hurried inside of the little fortiﬁcation.

He was scarcely over the wall, ere a dark object rose up
from the water under the prow of the canoe just left by
Sear-1e. It was immediately followed by the head and
shoulders of a man who stole ashore, then crept around to
one of the guards, that was posted outside of the defense,
and having made some change in clothing, entered the
fort.

This man was Dakota Dan. He had been to the meeting
of White Falcon and his accomplice, Searle; and he had
gone there, clinging to the keel of Searie's canoe, his head
being concealed under the ﬂaring sides, or rim of the craft!

“ Hello, Ishmaell” the ranger exclaimed, as he caught
sight of the traitor, “didn’t go to the fort, did ye? Red-
skins got arter ye, didn’t they?"

“ They did, Dan, and that with a vengeance, too," replied
the lying scoundrel. “I had landed and was making my
way—,3

“ A mortal sight of the abominable devils in the woods,
ar’n’t they?" interrupted the ranger. “ Reckon they’re hat-
chin’ up some deviltry, but let ’em hatch. They’ll ﬁnd ole
Dan Rackback ready fur ’em—ready to go right in on his
dew-claws, tooth and nail."

“Do you think they will make any demonstration to-
night?” asked Searle, betraying some uneasiness.

“ What do you think ’bout it?" was Dan’s evasive response.

“ I hope they will not attack us," answered 'Searle.

“ And so do I," asseverated Dan; “but I’m goin’ to put
Humility, my dorg thar, on guard, and then woe to the
trampoozin‘ smoky-skin that comes ’round here in smellin’
distance. For my part, I’m goin’ ashore again to keep an
eye on the varlets. If they do pitch on to us, it’ll not be
afore toward mornin’. Jonathan Duncan, this way a
mlnit."

Jonathan and Dan stepped aside, and in as brief a manner
as possible the ranger narrated all that he had overheard at
the conference opposite the mouth of Rattlesnake creek, and
requested Duncan to communicate the facts to the men so
that Searle would mistrust nothing of what was going on.

Having thus warned the party of its threatened dangers,

- Dan left the island.

 
A few minutes later the clouds thickened overhead, and I
slow, misty, drizzling rain set in.

C H A P T E R X V I .
'rmr WATER-SLAYER.

THE rain that set in so quietly at ﬁrst, ﬁnally developed
into a heavy storm, and for several hours poured down in
torrents. The Keys Paha had been considerably swollen,
and its whole bosom was soon black with ﬂoating debris.
The waterfall, however, was not sufﬁciently great to endanger
those upon the island. Nearly all of the minor tributaries of
the river had long been dry, and these, with the earth that
had been suﬂering of drouth, gathered and held the ﬂood by
absorption.

The bee-hunters’ fears increased when the rain set in.

' They knew it was to the advantage of the foe. Under cover

of the darkness and din of the storm they could approach the
island unknown to the beleaguered party.

Fortunately the storm had spent its fury by midnight-—
that is, it had ceased raining. The sky, however, was over-
cast—it was pitchy dark, and a drizzling mist was falling.
The sheet-lightning quivered and ﬂashed amid the black
jumbled clouds, and the distant thunder rumbled in sullen
intonations through the heavens.

During all these hours of wild storm, the ﬁgure of a man
sat crouched beneath a ledge of rocks about sixty rods above
the encampment of the bee-hunters, watching, with a steady,
sleepless eye and dogged patience, up and down the river,
which at times lay plainly revealed in the lurid gleams
of lightning.

The ﬁgure was that of Dakota Dan, the ranger.

Already drenched to the skin, he kept his silent ward and
watch under the rock. The dull, monotonous patter of the
rain, the surge of the waters; and the roll of the thunder,
were music to the ears of the old borderman. To him there
was an awful and solemn grandeur in the rolling, murmur-
ing river, the tall, sentinel-like trees, the purple~black clouds,
and the elements of the storm—all of which seemed contort-
ed and rendered unnatural and grotesque as seen in the livid
play of the lightning. ,~ ‘

As the hours wore, the soft trend of many feet was heard
on the. rock that gave the ranger shelter. He knew a num-
ber of persons were moving along the path that crossed the
rock, and a few moments later he saw a score of forms pause
upon the beach a few paces to the right of him. They were
all savages, with one or two exceptions—this he could see
distinctly in the almost continual play of the ﬁery wrath of
the storm-clouds. All were entirely nude with the exception
of a loin-cloth. Around each one‘s waist was buckled a
girdle from which depended a tomahawk.

Among the dusky, grotesque forms, the sturdy hero dis-
tinguished that of White Falcon. Knowing full well what
they were there for, Dan kept a watchful eye upon them,
when the electric ﬂashes permitted their being seen. He saw
that each warrior held in his hand a bunch of dry brush or
green foliage, which he placed over his head and face
in a careful manner, permitting it to rest upon his shoul-
ders. I

Dan chuckled to himself and rubbed his hands in glee. as
he watched the movements of the unsuspecting foe.

At length he saw one of the savages wade into the river
until all but his head was submerged. His head was con-
cealed under the clump of brush, which now rested on the
surface of the water. This savage was immediately followed
by another and still another of the warriors, until every one
present had disappeared in the river. Then all began moving
down the stream toward the island of the bee-hunters, swim-

 
S‘

 
i

Dakota Dan.

 
23

 
ming and wading, as the case might be. They moved slowly,
yet neither slower nor faster than the current.

Amid the scores of other objects ﬂoating on the river, no
one, not aware of the fact, would have ever dreamed of an In
(lian's head being concealed under the bunches of twigs and
foliage. But Dakota Dan knew it.

He arose from his seat, crept from his concealment and
laid aside his outer garments. Then he cut abough from an
adjacent bush, entwined it about his head, waded into the
river, and struck boldly out after the red-skins, and soon
came up with the hindmost ones.

The tiny waves surging. around them emitted sparks of
phosphorescent light, and his eyes being on a level with the
surface of the river, the old ranger was enabled to select those
ﬂoating objects which he knew had savage heads concealed
within them.

He felt no fears of his presence being detected. Even
were his own concealment discovered by the closest savage,
it was not probable that the red-skin could disorim'inate be-
tween his covert and that of a friend.

With his hunting-knife clasped ﬁrmly in his right hand, the
ranger veered slowly off toward one of the ﬂoating objects.
He soon came within reach of it—he thrust out his hand be-
neath the waves and clasped the savage by the throat. There
was an agitated movement of the Indian’s brush, a hand ﬂut-
tered to the surface of the water, there was a low, gurgling
sound, as the doomed brave was borne down beneath the tur-
bid waves. Streaks of crimson stained the water around the
ranger’s head, a few bubbles came to the surface and burst,
the warrior’s brush danced away upon the waves, and—all
was over.

The ranger again moved forward. The river murmured
on in that same sullen tone, as though it held no bloody secret
in its bosom; the misty rain continued to fall, and the storm
moaned in the distance.

Slowly Dakota Dan moved on toward another of the un-
suspecting foe. He soon came within reach of him. There
was a slight agitation of the two colliding bunches of brush,
a gurgling sound, a few bubbles, and the life of the red-skin
was ended.

The silent slayer moved on, and again and again repeated
his horrible work, feeling in hopes that every new victim
would be the renegade, White Falcon.

The chief, however, kept his position at the head of his
friends, secretly exulting in his cunning work. He felt posi-
tive of the capture of the island, for already the most diﬂicult
part of his plans was accomplished, and a few rods more
would bring him to the island. But, suddenly, something
touched his head behind.

His‘ﬁrst thought was of its being a brave who wished to
attract attention, and he stopped and turned his head. He
felt the object, whatever it was, still pressing against his brushy
concealment.

A gleam of lightning suddenly lit up the river, a low
exclamation of horror burst from the lips of the terriﬁed
chief. He saw lodged against him the lifeless body of a
warrior—om of those who had started to the island with him
alive! ,

White Falcon’s ﬁrst inference was that the warrior had been
drowned, disdaining, with that dogged pertinacity so character-
istic of Indian stoicism and fortitude to utter a call for help,

‘ through fear of defeating the expedition. But the renegade

soon had occasion to change his opinion as to the cause of his
follower’s death. The whole heavens became aglare with
lurid lightning that continued for full 5 minute. The river
and surroundings were as plainly revealed as if by the noon-
tide sun. The chief, whose eyes were turned up the stream,
suddenly beheld one of his warriors leap out of the water,
and heard him utter a scream of agony that resounded through

\

 
night and forest for miles. He saw him fall backward and
ﬂoat away, his arms beating the water in convulsions of death,
while just behind the scene of this drama, over which the
curtain of darkness was again drawn, the triumphant war-
whoop of Dakota Dan rung forth upon the midnight, and
mingled its terrors with the roar of the river and the rumble _
of the thunder.

Simultaneous almost with the shout of Dakota Dan, 3
dozen riﬂes on the island, now not over ﬁfty paces away,
poured forth a shower of leaden hail upon the concealed red-
skins. As the aim of the bee-hunters, however, had been
made at random, the savages sustained no loss. But it warn-
ed them that the defenders of the little fort were aware of
their stealthy approach, and White Falcon, not knowing how
many of his warriors had been slain by his persistent and in-
defatigable enemy, Dakota Dan, at once ordered a retreat to-
ward the west shore.

But the wildest excitement now prevailed upon the island.
During this excitement, and the confusion consequent upon
the expected attack, Ishmael Searlc and Edith Dufford had
disappeared from the interior of the defense.

A hasty, yet careful search of the island was at once made,
but the absence of one of the canoes and the tracks of Scarle,
where he sunk almost shoctop deep in the sand as he bounded
across the margin of the bar with Edith an unwilling captive
in his arms, told that the villain had made good his escape.

Edith had no doubt been prevented from calling for help
by her abducter stiﬂing her voice, and then springing over
the wall of the fort into the impenetrable gloom. I

In a few minutes Dakota Dan was upon the island, and it
was with the most profound astonishment he listened to the
story of Edith’s disappearance.

Then he stormed with fury, and cursed himself for having,
in his desire to defeat the savages, Jet Ishmael Searle accom-'
plish his villainous object in getting Edith into his power. l

Unfastening his dog, the ranger at once announced his
determination of starting in search of Edith.

One of the bee-hunters took him ashore in a canoe; then
the ranger began his search for the trail. The darkness,
however, concealed every vestige of footprints from sight,
and the old borderman’s only chances lay in the keen scent of
Humility.

 
CHAPTER XVII.
'rnn YOUNG ann-nunrna‘s men's or nonnon.

LEAVING him to pursue his way, we will now look after
our young friend, Ruben Gregg, whom we left stricken down
by an unseen hand in the forest.

It was the villain Ishmael Searle who dealt the blow. He
had left the island for that purpose, and had dogged the foot-
steps of the young bee-hunter until a favorable opportunity
was offered for him to carry out his murderous intent, and
all because Ruben stood between him and Edith Duﬂord.

The first thing of which the youth became conscious, on
his partial recovery, was of a vague existence, though he
could not tell in what state or sphere. He was surrounded
by impenetrable gloom; he was conscious of a severe pain
upon the head which numbed his scnses. Closing his eyes,
he endeavored to think. One by one he recalled the events
of the past. Gradually the veil of unconsciousness was lifted
from his memory, and the incidents of the past rose in pain-
ful distinctness before his mind. He remembered his bee-
hunting expedition, the peculiar whistle he had heard near
the bee-tree, the ﬁgure he'had seen partly concealed in the
shrubbery, the sweep of an arm above the bushes, the whirr
of something through the air, and the sudden blurring of his
vision, and then a blank. Where was he now? He opened
his eyes and gazed around him. A dark, dismal wall was
on all sides, and a black, lowering roof hung over him.

 
24 - Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
Through the latter, however, he could see in places the light

of day beyond. He could hear a dim rustling sound, like
the ﬂuttering of foliage in the breeze; and the sweet, fresh
perfumes of the wildwood were waited into his dark and
lonesome prison.

Ruben was prone upon his back and attempted to rise,
but found himself totally helpless. He was lying upon a
long log, face upward. His arms were bent backward and
securely fastened. His legs were also securely tied down.
A rope was passed over his body and around the log. An-
other passed over his throat, thereby rendering him helpless
as an infant. Moreover, it brought a bitter conviction to his
heart; it told him that he was a prisoner, but to whom he
had not the slightest conception.

Peering into the gloom until his eyes became accustomed
to the darkness, the young bee~hunter was enabled to see,
by moving his head from side to side, the nature of his
prison. [He discovered, to his delight, that he. was in the
open forest. The log upon which he was bound lay in the
bed of a small creek long since gone dry. Over this the
arcading branches of the trees formed an avenue, dark, cool
and dreary. Only a faint twilight pervaded the place, yet it
enabled the youth to distinguish the outlines of the tree-trunks,
among which he beheld the figure of an Indian warrior
standing, riﬂe in hand, evidently guarding him.

All was clear to him now, with a single exception. He
knew nothing of the time that had elapsed since his captivity.
But, having given up all hopes of settling this point, he fell
to thinking. He thought of his friends at the island, and
wondered if their fate had been similar to his own. His
mind went back to N iobrara settlement, and to Edith Dutford.
Then sad and bitter thoughts arose in his mind. His spirits
began to sink. The wound upon his head began to ache
and throb. A burning fever set in, and was succeeded by a
maddening thirst. In a few minutes more he Was raving in
a delirious fever. .

His savage guard approached him and examlned his bonds.
Finding them secure, he went back to a point where he could
command a' view of the surrounding vicinity for several
hundred yards. He heeded not the wild, mad cries of the
youth for water; there was no mercy in his savage breast.

The young bee-hunter’s suffering was intense. .He raved
and struggled for long hours. His cries rung in frightful
intonations through the aisles of the grim old woods; but all
was in vain. In fact, his violent struggling served to increase
his mental aberration.

At length, however, the blissful hand of unconsciousness
soothed him into a profound silence, and for long hours he
lay like one dead.

When he again awoke, it was with the vague belief, con-
jured up in dreams, that a friend’s cool hand was passing
over his burning brow, and that a goblet of cool, spark-
ling water was being held at his lips, while a voice cried
out:

“Drink, Ruben Gregg, drink and live."

He opened his parched lips to swallow the proffered bever-
age, but, alas! it was only a delusion!

Theyouth gazed up and around him, but all was wrapped
in Egyptiﬁn gloom. He found he was still in the same pain-
ful position on the log; and yet he could not drive the con-
viction from his mind that a friend was near him. He spoke,
but no one answered. He called louder; still no reply. He
shouted at the top of his lungs, and a dull sound, like the far-
oﬁ rumble of thunder, answered him.

Then he felt a shower of Water sprinkling his face; a gust
of wind fanned his cheeks. A friend, indeed, was near.
His Heavenly Father had not been deaf to his cries of distress
and appeals for mercy.

A sudden ﬂash of light that for a moment blinded him,

-s.

 
gleamed vividly overhead. It was immediately followed by
a sharp clap of thunder.

The whole truth rushed quickly across the youth‘s mind.
A thunder-storm was raging. It was the cool rain falling
hpon him that had resuscitated the remaining spark of life
within, and the wind sweeping up the forest avenue had
soothed his feverish brow.

A spark of hope was kindled in his breast. He murmured
a prayer of thanks for the relief that was being sent him from
Heaven. He opened wide his mouth to catch the rain-drops
in his parched and burning throat. But, oh, how few seemed
to fall the soothing drops in that one place! All around him he
could hear the tantalizing gurgle of rippling water. He could
hear the sullen roar of descending rain. It fell in his face,
upon his body, but how little between those hot, dry lips!

If he could only have assuaged that awful, torturing thirst,
he might survive the night. He called to his savage guard
for water, but received no response. He knew not whether
the guard was near, and thoughts of being alone brought new
terror to his soul when the sharp bark ofa wolf was borne to
his ears on the wings of the storm.

After all it seemed he was deserted, even by Heaven—that
his resuscitation by the falling rain was only to prolong his
suffering. He lay and watched the play of the lightning
above, and the black clouds trooping across the heavens like
somber-winged phantoms. He listened to the crash of the
thunder, the moan of the wind and the sullen roar of the rain,
to which was added the terrible accompaniment of a panther’s
scream or a wolf’s sharp, gibbering cry. And hark! another
cry suddenly bursts forth upon the night and rends the heart
of the captive with terror. It is the rush and roar of water.
A mighty torrent is comingdown the valley! The youth is
in the very center of its course, and death is inevitable. He
realizes his peril. With the desperation of a madman he ex-
erts every nerve in an effort to break his bonds; but they
yield not. The torrent is coming nearer with a roar like that
of a mighty river broken from its channel.

In his new danger Ruben forgets his thirst and burning,
aching brow. His cries for water are hushed; water is com-
ing in a torrent—in a mighty ﬂood. It will soon be upon
him—it will quench his thirst—it will cool his brow—drown
out the remnant of life within him!

The youth lifts his voice to Heaven in prayer. The crash
of thunder, alternative with the roar of the torrent and
shriek of the wind, mocks his supplications in outbursts as if
of hoarse, Satanic laughter.

Still on comes the rushing ﬂood. Ruben can now hear it
crashing through the undergrowth that lines the banks of the
stream with a volume of sound that could not have been more
terriﬁc had the waters'of the Keys. Paha been suddenly turn-
ed into that little pent-up valley. It draws nearer and nearer,
and all of a sudden it seems to burst and spread outward on
either side with a rolling, swashing roar.

A slight feeling of hope pervades the breast of the helpless
youth. He knows the cause of this sudden change in the
sound of the rushing ﬂood. The water had burst from a
narrow valley, down which it was sweeping, into an open
valley over which it was now spreading.

This he knew would check the wild onward rush of the
torrent, and break the destructive momentum of its current.
But the youth's life was still in danger. He was lying bound

in the very path of the ﬂood. He might be lifted up and

borne away, but there was no hope of escaping death. He
would be crushed and ground to atoms amid the breastwork
of whirling logs and debris that he knew was being carried
down upon the head of the water avalanche.

The rear comes nearer and nearer. The youth can now

feel the dashing spray in his face; the torrent is upon him!

Like a mighty wave it dashes over him, burying him a dozen

{

 
ﬂ. w.

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6L~

Dakota Dan.

 
feet beneath its crest. Thelog to which he is bound quivers,
trembles, and rises to the surface, where, rocking to and fro
for a moment, it darts down the stream. But it soon stops.
It is thrown across the stream and lodges against two larger
trees—one on each side of the creek.

The young bee-hunter was still on the uppermost side of
the log—out of the water; but his situation was one of the
most terrible agony. The log was wedged in under some
boughs where it could not rise with the rising ﬂood, and soon
it would be ovcrﬁown. Already the wild current rushing
beneath him was half-way up the side of the log and still ris-
ing rapidly.

In a few minutes more it will be submerged.
feel the water creeping up his arms that are bent backward
over the log; it reaches his elbows- —his shoulders. Waves
The surge of the ﬂood now strikes terror to
his soul—it has reached the top of the log! Like a cold,
clammy serpent it crawls and writhes up his cheeks. He can
see the tossing billows that are almost on a level with his
eyes. He can see phosphorescent sparks emitted from the
dashing waves; a moment more and he will be shut from view

Ruben can

dash over him.

beneath the raging ﬂood.

Still the love of life is strong within Ruben Gregg. He
shouts for help, shouts until his voice rings forth in startling
echoes through the woods. Then he listens. The echoes of
his own voice come back to his ears. Again his voice rings
forth; again he listens, and—glorious sound! Ahuman voice
greets his ears. He listens to hear it repeated, but all is
silent save the mad roar of the ﬂood. Horrible mockeryl a
moan escapes his lips, and he gives up to die. It is then,
at the last moment almost, that he hears a voice call out:

“ Hello, stranger, be you in trouble? What be the mat-
ter? whar be ye? and what mought be your name?”

“ Help! help! for God’s sake, be you friend or foe, or I
shall drown! I am bound to a log, and the water is rising
over me. I am Ruben Gregg, of—"

“ Thar, tharl stop, stop right thar, stranger," came a reply
from out the darkness. “ Stop right thar, or, by the Lord,
I'll let you drown dead as thunder.”

This strange command was immediately followed by a
splashing in the water, and guided by Ruben‘s appeals for
help, the stranger made his way by swimming to where the
youth was fast disappearing beneath the water.

The young bee-hunter soon made known his predicament,
and to his inﬁnite joy the stranger cut his bonds, then
“ towed ” him safely out of the seething caldron of wa-
ter.

As soon as they were upon dry ground, Ruben gazed up
into the face of his deliverer, with a thankful and interrogative
look.

The man seemed to deﬁne his thoughts, and said:

" Don't make yerself a bit uneasy, lad. I'm a friend to
you, if you’re'Ruben Gregg. I’m ole Dan Rackback, I are,
tho‘ I’m sumtimes called Dakota Dan, the Ranger."

 
CHAPTER XVIII.
A mama ACT AND A san cnmax.

RUBEN GREGG attempted to rise to his feet the moment
nis deliverer placed him upon the shore; but his aching
limbs refused his weight, and he sunk to the earth. His
cramped and painful position upon the log. his snifermg
and horror had well-nigh stopped the circulation of life.

“ You are in a bad ﬁx, Ruben Gregg," said the ranger, in
his bluﬂ‘, familiar manner; “ you are, by J udeal You want
rubbin’, you do, to start the blood, then ye-can walk. has,
that war an abominable predickamint you war in, my-bOY-
How did ye git yourself thar? Who done it—white-skm, or

 
a.

25

smoky? Speak right slap-dab out. Needn’t be afeard.
I'm ole Dakota Dan, and this here critter by my side is my
dorg, Humility, and a noble feller he are, too—good blood
in him."

Ruben’s joy and delight were inexpressible. He knew by
the man‘s outspoken and whimsical tone that he was tellin

 
' the truth—~that his was an honest, brave and generous heart.

The blood that had been almost congealed in the youth’s
veins, now leaped in hot currents through his whole frame.
He realized that he was saved from a terrible death, and
once more with a friend—the famous Dakota Dan.

Ruben brieﬂy narrated his adventures from the time he left
the island up to the moment of his rescue, when, in turn,
Dan gave him an account of what had transpired at the
island, and it was with a feeling of the most intense agony
that the vouth learned of the capture of his betrothed, Edith
Dufford.

Action seemed to ﬁre the very soul of the boy, and in a
minute he was upon his feet, begging the ranger to lead the
way in the search for the maiden and her abductor.

By this time the night was far advanced. It had ceased
raining, and the surface of the earth was well drained,
although the sinall streams were still rising.

Dakota Dan led the way through the forest, happy and
jubilant over his night’s success. -

They had journeyed some distance, when the twinkling Of
a light far ahead suddenly caught the eye of the old ranger,
who at once ordered a halt.

Humility sniffed the air and whined, which convinced his
master of the presence of danger.

The ranger and his young companion moved on, and as
they approached the camp-ﬁre, discovered it to be the biv-
ouac of a small party of savages. ’

Silently they crept on still closer until they could command
a fair view of the camp, and distinguish more readin the
forms around it. '

To the mingled astonishment and joy of both the scouts,
they discovered Ishmael Searle and Edith Dufford among the

'party. Searle was walking about with all the freedom of

one of the warriors, but the maiden was a captive; her hands
were bound; she sat upon a blanket, with her head bowed
in grief.

A muttered oath escaped Dan’s lips, while he could
scarcely restrain Ruben from rushing into the camp and at-
tempting the girl’s rescue.

“ Take it easy—softly, Ruben,” he commanded. “ Keep
jist as cool as a polar iceberg. Trust the gal’s i-escue to me
and Humility, my dorg thar, and I‘ll bet the case ’11 be done
up systumatical. We've never failed yit in discombobaratin‘
our foes. No, lad; Dakota Dan, the great triangle of the
Nor’-west, is sure death to a red-skin. Howsumever, thar’s
one of the angles absent. That’s Patience, my mare. She’s
over t’other side of the river, feedin‘ up; but then, me and
that dorg can work well alone. You see thar is jist four of
them red-skins thar, besides that blasted rapscallion, Ishmael
Searie. Wal, my plan for that little gal’s reskoo is made.
I’m goin‘ to sail boldly into their camp, pistols in hand ready
to speak. They'll cover two of the varlets, Humility '11 cover
another, and the other two that’ll be left dar’n't move.
You'll take this 'ere knife and foller clus arter us, and when
things are settled, cut the gal’s bonds and then see that she's
safe into the woods. Us two angles here will hold the var-
iets under kiver of eye, tooth and pistol, till yer cl’ar of the
light, then we’ll jine ye." '

“ But how'll you follow us in the dark ?” asked Ruben.

“ Lord. boy, ain’t Humility, my dorg here, got the kcenest
nozzle that ever sniﬂed out the trail of on Ingin, or squiz
the daylight outen a catamountt”

“I see now," replied Ruben. “I did not think of you

1
l

 
26 Beadle’s ﬁime litribrary.

 
dog. 1 am ready to follow and take part in anything that
happens." ’

With a cocked pistol in each hand, Dakota Dan moved
carefully forward with Humility at his side and Ruben close
behind.

When within a few paces of the camp, the ranger sprung
suddenly forward and landed within the radius of the light.

The savages and Ishmael Seal-1e started at sound of his
approach.

“ Don’t, I say!” burst from Dan‘s lips, in a tone rife with
deadly meaning; “ don’t move a hand, Ish Searle—you, or a
savage—or, by the gods of Mount Olympus, I’ll let blizzer—
I’ll be your termination, your millinnium—STAND!”

The last word was uttered in a tone that seemed to awe

the astounded fees, and strike terror to the soul of Ishmael
Searle; while the savages reeoiled, with abject fear stamped
om their dusky faces.

Humility stood crouched for a spring, his eyes burning
with a greenish light, his tail moving slowly, and his white
fangs glittering beneath his red, quivering lips. He was a
foe that the red-skins had no desire to encounter. They
feared him more than his master; and each one stood mo-
tionless under the horrible fascination that cpmes of fear of
instant death, certain that the deadly, glaring eyes of the dog
were ﬁxed alone upon him.

So surprised and awed had the savages been by this bold
and daring intrusion, and the ﬁrm and unﬂinching attitude
of the intruders, that for a moment they seemed rooted to
the very spot where they stood.

Searle carried no weapons that were visible. The savages
had laid their iiﬂes aside, which Were now beyond their reach.
There were knives in their girdles, but under cover of the
two leveled pistols, and the still more dreaded horror, Hu-
mility’s burning eyes, they dare not move a muscle.

Edith glanced up at the sound of Dakota Dan’s voice.
She saw Ruben, and a cry burst from her lips. The youth
sprung forward and with one stroke severed her bonds; and
then, with a whispered word of endearment, he drew her
arm within his and hurried her away into the gloom.

All this occurred within a small fraction of the time it
takes to tell it. Searcer half a minute had elapsed from the
moment the rescuing party entered the camp until Ruben was
gone with his prize.

The ranger was well satisﬁed that they would have to act
upon the spur of the moment if they would be successful.
He knew the savages would close in upon them the instant
they fully comprehended the situation; and this he could see
they were not slow in doing. He could see the demon us-
ing within them, and rather than await their onslaught he
began moving slowly backward, his pistols still covering two
of the foe.

The savages comprehended his movement, and with a yell
they sprung to their riﬂes. The ranger turned and bounded
into the shadows just as the savages sent a random volley
after him. '

The leader: missiles clipped through the leaves around the
borderman—he staggered and almost fell, but gathering him
self up, he hurried on. .

He soon‘ came up with Ruben and Edith.

“ Hurry on, young folks}? he said; “the smoky varlets are
arter us hot and heavy.”

The words came slow, almost in gasps, from the old
ranger’s lips. It was evident that he was apprehensive of
renewed dangers, or was growing nervous from some cause
or other. He hurried on‘with heavy footsteps—panting like

an overworked ox,yand at times reeling as if about to sink
with sheer exhaustion.

They could hear the savages crashing through the under-
growth upon their trail. I .

 
Every moment brought them nearer and nearer to the ﬂy-
ing fugitives.

Suddenly, Dan, who was before, sunk heavily to the
earth.

“ Why, Dan, have you given out?” asked Ruben, pausing
by the fallen man‘s side.

“No, no, Ruben; hurry on with that little gal. Leave
me here to die—it’s as good a place as any. I’m wounded,
boy, to the death. The devils shot an awful leak into me
as I dashed into the woods. Gallons and gallons of good
blood—good Rackbaek blood—are runnin‘ to waste. But
thar’s no cure now. Go on, Ruben, with that gal—don’t let
the cusses git her, or may the curses of Heaven fall upon
you. I’m good as dead, I tell you; you can do me no good
-—go on, I say! Don’t you hear them comin’ right there?
Go!”

There was something so unearthly in the last word that
Ruben reeoiled from him—turned, and with Edith hurried on
through the grim old woods.

'bnAPTER XIX.
mumps TO THE nascun.

RUBEN and Edith hurried forward, scarcely knowing where
they were going—whether away from danger or right into it.
They spoke but few words, but moved on, their hearts throb-
bing with the emotions of joy and sorrow—joy over their
escape, and sorrow for the noble old friend who had fallen
in their behalf. '

Suddenly the report of ﬁrearms, mingled with wild shouts,
arose on the air behind them.

The almost exhausted fugitives came to a halt and listened.
Amid the savage yells behind, they could distinguish the
shouts of white men. '

The report of the ﬁrearm lasted but a few moments, but
were succeeded by shouts of triumph and moans of agony.

“I do belive that a party of friends has dropped in be-
tween us and the savages, Edie,” said Ruben. '

“ Oh, pray it may be so! I hope they have been in time
to save the good ranger, Dakota Dan,” replied Edith. “ To
him is owing my ﬁrst escape from the Indians. He is a
noble old man.”

“ Ah! those shouts are from the lips of white men!" ex-
claimed the youth, joyfully. “We are saved, Edie! It is
no doubt the bee-hunters, or a party from Niobrara. Let us
try andrﬂnd out who they are, anyhow, and if friends, join
them." I

They turned and started back. They soon came within a
few rods of the party whose cries of triumph had resounded
through the forest a few minutes before.

True enough, it proved to be a band of settlers from Nio-
brara, in search of Edith and Mehitable. ‘ I , '

Shouts of joy and triumph peeled forth again and again
upon the air, when Ruben and Edith joined the settlers.

In as brief a manner as possible- the two fugitives narrated
the story of their trials and sufferings. Then Ruben, not
forgetful of him‘ who had saved him Fem. perishing, Dakota
Dan, led in the search for the body of the unfortunate ranger.

'But it could not ' be found. An hour of eager searching

proved nnavailing. The ranger, so all concluded, must have
crawled away, after he fell, into some dark recess of the

. woods, and died. At least, this was the supposition, and

fearing to endanger their situation by continuing a hopeless
search, the party set off for the camp of the bee-hunters,
guided by Ruben Gregg.

As they journeyed silently along, a riﬂe by the wayside
suddenly rung out. A groan from the lips of .one of the set-

 
i
i

 
le

riaamuu

 
. “mm. _

 
tlcrs succeeded it. Barak Gregg, Ruben's father, fell mor-
tally wounded—shot down by the hand of an unknown assas-
sin that lurked in the darkness.

In a moment Ruben was at the old man's side, kneeling
OVer him.

“Father, are you hurt?” he asked, lifting the sinking head
of the old man.

A groan, that attested the father’s agony, was the only
response. The settlers gathered around him, and with much
ditliculty, owing to the darkness, succeeded in ﬁnding the
Wound. He had been shot through the breast, the ball hav-
ing evidently passed through the left lobe of the lungs, and
death was inevitable.

In the gloom of the woods, the party could render their
Wounded friend but little alleviation from the agony he was
So a litter was hastily constructed and the old
man placed upon it. Then four men lifted him up and bore
him carefully away through the forest, though almost every
step forced a groan from his lips.

Just at daybreak the party reached the Kcya. Paha oppo-
site the bee-hunters’ camp. Having made known their pre-
sence to those at the little fort, canoes were br0ught over
and the party taken over to the island.

Great was the joy of the bee-hunters over the return of
Ruben and Edith, but deep their sorrow over the dying old
settler, Barak Gregg.

All that mortal power—such as was invested in the set-
tlers—could do, was done for the wounded man, notwith-
standing the nature of the wound precluded all hopes of
eathly aid saving him.

suffering.

Ruben’s sorrow was great. He sat by his father’s bedside,
constant in his administrations.

A messenger had been sent to Niobrara with the news of
Edith and Mehitable’s rescue, and to break to Gregg’s family
the sad news of his fatal injuries.

The day following, Edith and Mehitable were sent to Ni-
obrara, under a strong escort. Only six of the bee-hunters,
besides Jonathan Duncan, remained with the dying Barak
Gregg, whom it was impossible to move.

Mrs. Gregg and her other boys at once hurried to the
island on learning of the old man’s condition.

Contrary to the belief of all, Barak Gregg lingered along
between life and death for several days, and some had come
to entertain hopes of his recovery. But at length a change
came for the worse, and he began to sink rapidly. Death
became visible in every feature, and fully conscious of the
change that was so soon to come, Gregg called his friends
around him, and in a strong voice, said:

“ Friends, it seems that I have got to die, but the Lord’s
will be done. I have shot my last gun, followed my last
trail, and done my last act of sin, and now am to leave ye,
and go into the great Hereafter, where ye’ll all go by-and-by.
Let me here admonish you all to live a better life than I have,
30 that when you come to die, ye may not be burdened with
sin, as I be. If I had only led a good life, and could die
With clean hands, I would now be thankful. But, Lord, I
confess my sins, which have been greatest only to Barak
Gregg. I have seriously wronged but one person in all my
life, but this wrong I can yet make right. And now bear
Witness—all of you—to the dying confession of Barak Gregg.
RUben, there—Ruben Gregg is not 0117' 503/! He is the 3°“
01' one Charles Lonsdale, of the far South."

“ Lonsdale—Charles Lonsdale, did you say?" cried Jona-
than Duncan, advancing nearer the old man’s side-

“ Yes, Lonsdale," replied Gregg, gazing “P 9‘ Duncan

’ with a wild look in his eyes-

“ Go on with your story; you will pardon me for my in-
terrnptiou," responded Duncan.

“ Yes: Rllbeu is Charles Lonsdale’s child. A villain $016

 
‘ Dakota Dan. 27

 
him from his home a few minutes after he was born. He
brought the babe to our secluded home, and paid us well in
advance to keep it. We grew to love it as an own child, and
for fear it would be taken from us some day, we pulled up

7 and left the country unknown to any of our neighbors, and—’3'

“ Then your name is not Gregg," said Duncan, “ but Bond
—Caleb Bond.“

The dying man started up almost into a sitting posture,
with a wild look in his eyes.

“ Caleb Bend, the boatman," he muttered, sinking back
“ Yes, yes; I am Caleb Bond, though I
had nearly forgotten it myself, it has been so long since I
heard the name spoken. N0, Ruben is not our child, 'but
that of Charles Lonsdale."

“ Then he is the very individual that I am in search of,
and have been for two years,” said Duncan.

“ Then you are an oﬂicer—oh, Heaven! will my poor old
wife have to suffer after I am gone for this dying confession?
——for the confession of a sin that—"

“ No, no, Mr. Gregg; your wife shall not suitor. The
Lonsdale child is all I want. Rest assured your wife will
not regret that you made this confession."

“ Thank God!” muttered the old man, breathing easier.

He soon sunk so low that he could speak only in a whis-
per, and that, too, with niuch difficulty. Finally he sunk
The bee-hunters went out of
the tent and moved quietly about, conversing in whispers.

Every heart had been touched by the death-bed scene.

The moments wore on with leaden feet.

At length a woman’s wail issued from the tent. It spoke
plainer than words:

Caleb Bond was dead.

upon his couch.

into an easy, quiet slumber.

 
‘..
CHAPTER XX.
sons: rr.

"K

CALEB Bonn, alm Barak Gregg, was buried on the left
shore of the Keys. Paha, his grave being carefully concealed
from savage eyes.

Then the little party was ready to take up its line of march
for Niobrara settlement.

Jonathan Duncan accompanied them, for Ruben had con-
sented to go with him to the South to claim his fortune,
after he had once more visited the old home at Niobrara
and made some arrangements concerning the future with his
betrothed, Edith Duﬁord.

Mrs. Bond confirmed the dying confession of her husband,
regarding the Lonsdale heir, even giving additional testimony
which served to remove every doubt from Jonathan’s mind
of the youth’s parentage. For all Ruben’s face bore no to
semblance to that of his mother in the picture, it‘was no
evidence of his not being her child.

The remarkable similarity of features existing between the
picture and Edith Duﬂord could be accounted for on
other ground than that of a remarkable coincidence.

The little party left the island in canoes, their bee-hunting
excursion having been voted a decided failure. Not a pound
of honey had been secured. But, taking all in all, none of
them were sorry they had Ventured forth, for they had'ac-
complished some good as it was. .

The fate of Dakota Dan, however, was a a mystery to them
all, that hung like a pall upon their hearts. They had
searched the woods thoroughly for him, but not a trace
could be found of either him or his dog. I
‘ The Indians disturbed the homeward bound party but

‘little during its ﬁrst half-day’s journey, and after that they

disappeared altogether.
The day was drawing near its close, and the party was

\

 
28

‘

Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
discussing the propriety of going into cam for
the night, when the deep haying of a. dog gurst
suddenly upon their cars.

A moment later a rude yet familiar voice—a.
voice that sent a thrill of joy to every heart——
called out:

“Hello, over there, folks. Goin’ home, ain’t
you? Got too hot fur yo, didn’t it?”

“Dakota Dan, the ranger, thank God!” cried
Ruben, his face beaming with joy.

' True enouwh; the old ranger, mounted upon
Patience, with Humility at his side, had drawn
rein upon the river~bank, and was regarding
them with unfeigned curiosity.

The boats were at once headed toward the
shore, and were met at the water’s edge by the
bluff old ranger, who seemed as highly pleased
to meet them as did they on meeting him.

“Indeed, Dan, this is a joyous surprise,” said
Ruben, “ for we have mourned you as dead ev-
211; sin’ce that terrible night of storm and adven-

re.

“ So has Humility, my dorg here,” replied the
ran er, “and I thought I war dead, too, for a
whi e;—but is that leetle gal safe, Rubing’l”

“She is, Dan, thanks to your courage. But
where have you been ever since that memora-
ble night?”

“ Been dead part of the time, boy—dead as a
door nail. The varlets shot a hole into me that
night that let out ever blessed drop of blood
in me. And when I fe thar, what should ole
Humility do but dra me away into the bresh,
whar I laid—well, t e Lord only knows how
long. When I awoke I crawled away and got
into a little cave on the river-bank and that I
tried my level best to die, but couldn’t to save
me. I war so plaguy shaky in the knees that I
had to lay three or four days afore I could ven-
ter out and then I hadn’t a drap of good Rack-
back blood in me. Yes, yes, boys; that come
abominable nigh bein’ my last predicamint, but
reckon I’ll pick up now, and weather it through.”

“ You look pale, Dun—the worse for the wear
and tear of the last week,” replied Ruben.

“Inever did look ve handsome—no great

shakes on beauty. But can’t stizy that about
the rest of the eat Triangle, atience, my
mare here, an Humility, my dorg thar.

They’re s lendid critters—come of good Purl?

tunic stoc and know more than a million red-
skins do. ’You see boys, we make the great
Tri-an 19 of the N’orhwest, known as Dakota
Dan. t takes man, hoof and bowler to make
that Ingin-extarminator. Take the mare and
dor out and you simply have ole Dan-i—el Rack-
bac left, and he alone co ’t do much angel-
izin’ lug-ins. Good bloo the Rackback fami-
ly, and it’ll stand an awful drawin’ out, but I
come holy nigh cavin’, b0 5. On yer way back,
I reckon, ar’n’t ye, folks?

“Yes, we have had adventure enough,” re-
Blied Ruben, “for a time at least. But now,

an, we shall insiston you going down to Nio-
brara settlement with us and remaining there
until you rest and recuperate your health and
strength. We will accept no excuse from you,
but will consider it an onor and a pleasure to
have ou with us.”

“ a1 boy, es I’m aleetle shaky in the Isys-
tem—es l’atience, my mare here, is sum’at j ed
—es Humility, my dorg thar, is sum’at discom—
boborated, I don’t keer if the great Tri-an le—
the In ' angelizer of the Nor’-west, does rap
down Niobrara with you, and ut in a few
days reor anizin’ and reconstructin’ its solar
system. esides, I want to cut you out of that
leetle gal Rubing.”

The 01 until: went off into a ﬁt of rollick-
ing laughter t made all feel good to hear

umility licked his ctlgips and laid down,
and Patience switched her ' and relapsed into
her usual dormant attitude.

The matter being settled, the party went into

camp.

The night passed without any trouble from
the Indians, and by daylight the following
morning the party was on the move.

Niobrara was reached b noon, and great was
the icy that reigned therein over the return of
the. ast of its citizens; an as long as he re-
ma‘ed _at the settlement, the settlers all seemed
to vie with each other inpayiug homa e to their
{listing-IEth guest, Dakota Dan, the ﬁlanger of
Keya aha.

 
THE END.
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ROGER STARBUCK,

|_l Well In the Inimlhble Wit: and Humorists,
WASHINGTON WHITEHORN. JOE JO'I'. Jr» and BEAT TIME.

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PHILIP s. WARNE,
BRACEBRDGE HEMYNG ("J-ck Hark
swam")
EDWARD L WHEELER,
GARRY GAINES,
cm. CHARLES HOWARD,
A. W. BELLAW,

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prepared expresgldyé for schools, families, etc. Each ,

volume contains large pages, printed from clear,
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» etto.

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tors; and Recitations-

 
DIME NOVELS.

Incomparable in Merit.
Unapproachable in Price.
W Be ve

careful not to confound these books
with those 0 other publishers, sold at the same
price. The vast success of the Dime Novels called
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AND ADAMS, whose copyright trade-mark and Signet
the word “ Dime” Novel is. Ask always for Emma’s
Dime Novels, and you will then get what you wish.
The followin comprises a complete list as far as
published. umbers omitted are out of print.

2. The Privateer‘sCruise 293. The Tonkawa Spy.
3. Myra. 294. The Rival Rovers.
9. The Slave Sculptor. 298. The Hussar Ca tain.
‘10. The Backwoods Bride 299. Mossfoot, the rave.

 
11. Prisoner LaVintresse 301. Mustang Sam.
14. Emerald Necklace. 308. Glass Eye.
16. Uncle Ezekiel. 310. F0 horn Phil
17. eWilde. 812. Die Dar‘ .
22. The d of Esopus. 313. TheRedBro herhood
2‘3. Winifred Winthrop. 314. Rival Lieutenants.
24. The Trail Hunters. 316. Hurricane Bill.
25. The Peon Prince. 317. Tipig, the Texan.
30. Put. Pomfret’s Ward. 322. Old rizzlﬁ.
81. Double Hero. 323. The Das ing Dra-
32. Irona. goons.
3‘3. Maum Guinea. 200. 324. Will-o’-the-Wisp.
34. Ruth Mar erie. 326. Dashing Dick.
35. East and est. 326. Old Crossﬁre.
36. The Riﬂemen of the 32?. Ben Bramble.

. Miami. 328. The Brigand Captain
38. The Wrong Man. 329. Old Strategy.
39. The Land Claim. 330. Gray Hair, the Chief.
40. Union’s Dan hter.200 831. The Prairie Tigers.
42. The Kin ’s an. 332. The Rival Hunters.
44. A use alkland. 338. The Texan Scout.
46. reek of the Albion. 334. Zebra Zack.
47. Tim Bumble‘s Charge 1:35. The Masked Messen-

51. The Two Guards. ger.
Mo an, the Pirate.

63. Hates and Loves. 336.

54. M rtle. 337. The oy Sgy.

56. A mo‘s Plot. 338. Tahle, the railer.
60. Jo Daviess’ Client. 330. The Boy Chief.

61. Lou hing Eyes. 340. Tim, the Trailer.

62. The nknown. 841. Red Ax.

63. The Indian Princess. 342. Stella theS y.

64. Ran ers of Mohawk. 343. The hite venger.
65. The recker’s Prize. 344. The Indian King. .
68. The Bri antine. 345. The Long Trail.

69. Black ollow. 346. Kirk the Guide.

70. The Indian een. 347. The Phantom Trail.
72. The Moose unter. 848. The 1Alpache Guide.
78. The Silver Bugle. 349. The Miner.

77 ' 850. Keen Eye, theRanger

. mdaro.
84. he Seminole Chief.

. Blue Belt, Guide.
85. TheFu itives.

0n the Trail

87. On the esp. 853. The SpecterS y.
as. Captain Mo 1y. 354. Old Bald H .

90. Cast Away. 855. Red Knife Chief.
93. The Creole Sisters. 356. Sib Cone, Trapper.
96. Little Moccasin. 357. The Bear Hunter.

 
98. Ruth Harland. 358. Bashful Bill Sipy.
101. Maid of Wyoming. 359. The White Ch of.
102. Hearts Forever. 360. Cortina, Scourge.
104. Gull or Not Guilty. 361. The Squaw Spy.

106. Sim ePhil. 362. Scout of '76.

110. The 'dden Home. 863.  Jack.

113. Rattlepate. 364. asked Spy.

114. Ned Starling. 865. Kirke, Ren ade.
115. The Sons 0 Liberty. 366. Dingle, the utlaw.
116. Port at Last. 867. The Green Banger.
117. The MoheganMaiden 308. Montbars, Scourge.
118. The Water Waif. 369. Metamora.

119. The Five Cham ions. 870. Thompath, Trailer.
121. Vailed Benefac rose. 371. Foul-weather Jack.
123. The Missin Bride. 372. The Black Rider.
1% Sumter’s couts. 873. The Helpless Hand.
125. The Hunted Life. 874. The Lake Ra ers.
127. Bald Eagle. 875. Alone on the sins.
128. The Gulch Miners. 376. Phantom Horseman.

129. Blackeyes. 877. W ona. -
132. Old Honesty. 378. Silent Shot, Singer.
135. The Cherokee Chief. 879. The Phantom hip.
139. The Border Foes. 880. The Red Rider.

142. The Sagamore of 881. TheGi-izzl -Hunters.
Saco. 382. The Mad , or.

154. Rob Ruskin. 383. The SpecterS lpper.

159. Snowbird. 384. The Red 00 ote.

166. The Unseen Hand. 385. The Hunch ack.

176. The Trader S y. 886. The Black Wizard.

207. The Buffalo p r. 387. The Mad Horseman.

216. The White He t. 888. The Privateer’s Bride

219. The Scioto Scouts. 389. The Jaguar Queen.

224. The Mohave Captive. 390. Shadow Jack.

227. The Forest Princess. 801. Eagle Plume. ‘

228. The Mute Chief. 892. The Ocean Outlaw.

282. The Prairie Queen. 393. Red Slayer. '

234. The Forest Specter. 394. The Phantom Foe.

239. Old Zb. 395. The Blue Anchor.

242. Graybeard. I 396. Bed-Skin’s Pied e.

243. The Black Princess. 39?. The adroon py.

2A4. Keetsea. 398. The lack Rover.

246. The White Apache. 399. Red-Belt, the Tusca-

250. The BorderRenegade rora.

256. Antelo Abe. 400. The Two Trails.

258. The W te Brave. 401. The Ice Fiend.

263. The Border Huntress 402. The Red Prince.

264. Mountain Kate. 403. The First Trail.

282. Ruby Roland. 404. Sheet-Anchor Tom.

288. The Lone Chief. 405. Old Avoirdupois.

284. The Young Sgy. 406. White Gladiator.

289. The Balloon couts. 407. Blue Clipper.

292. Black John. 408. Red Dan.

sssssssssssssssssssss

 
. The Fire-Eater.

. Blackhawk.

. The Lost Ship.

. Black Arrow.

. WhiteSe ent.

. The Lost aptain.
. The Twin Trailers.

. Warrior Princess.
. The Blue Band.

. The S uaw Chief.
The ‘ g Scout.
. Sonora Ben.

The Sea Ki .
Mountain Gi .
Death Trailer.

pent.
Arkansas Kit.
428. The Corsair Prince.

. Death‘s rhead Ran-
ger.
. Captain of Captains.

The Crested Ser-

 
429
430
431

432.
438.

435. Eutawan the

Standard Dime Publications.

. Ethan Allen's Riﬂes
. Little Thunderbolt.

. The Falcon Reveal
Honest Hand,

The Stone Chief.

. The Gold Demon. I
Slayel
.—Masked Guide. ,

437. The Conspirators.
438. Swiftwln .
439. Caribou p.

. The Privateer.

. The Black Slp .

The Dopme unter.
Ranger.

449. The Traitor Sp .

Others in

 
THE ILLUMINATED DIME
POCKET NOVELS.

Comprising the best works only of the most popular
living writers in the ﬁeld of American romance.
Each issue a com letc novel, with illuminated cover,
rivaling in effect t is popular chrome.

Hawke e Harry.
Dead S 01:.
Blue Dick.
5. Nat Wolfe.
6. The White Tracker.
7. The Outlaw’s Wife.
8. The Tall Trapper.
9. Lightn‘
10
11

More

mg J o.
. The Island Pirate.
. The Bay Ranger.
12. Boss. e Trapper.
13. The French Spy.
14. Long Shot

15. Gunmaker of Border.

16. Red Hand.
17. Ben the Tra er.

18. Wild Raven, nger.
Chic .

19. The S ter
20. The air-Killer.
21. Wild Nat

er.
Go‘dbold, the Spy.
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. The Huge Hunter.

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45. The Elk King]

46. Adrian, the ' ot.
47. The Man-hunter.
49. Moccasin Bill.

60. The Wolf Queen.

51. Tom Hawk. the Trail-

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. The Mad Chief.
The Black Wolf.

. Arkansas Jack.
Blackbeard.

The River Riﬂes. .
Hunter Ham.
Cloudwood.

The Texas Hawks.
Merciless Mat.

The Florida Soon
The Island Trappe .
Wolf-Cap.D

Rattlin ick.

Slia - ye.

Iron- and.

The Yellow Hunter.

Delaware Tom.
Silver Riﬂe.

. Indian .16, the Guide.
. Old Kent, the Ranger.
The One-Eyed Trap-

The Golden Harpoon.

Rainbolt, the Ranger.

. Wild Nat. the Trapper

Mad Anthony’s Scouts 1
The Luckless Tra per

The Phantom Rider. "

’13.
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Little Riﬂe. ' v
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. The Border Riﬂeman.

. Outlaw Jack. ~

. Tigerl‘ Tail, the Semi~
no

6.
. Death Dealer, the

Shawnee Scourge.

. Kenton, the Ran er.
. The Specter

OI‘SO‘

The Three Trap rs
‘ Witch

Kaleolah. the
Queen.
The Hunter Hercules.
Phil Hunter, the Boy
Slalyer. .»
The dian Scout.
The Girl Aven er.
The Red Herm tees.
Star-Face, the Slayer.
The Antelope Boy.
The Phantom Hunter

lo the Pilot-
Wizard

96. The Rival Trapp'et‘s.

. The S uaw'Spy.
.Duslry 1dr.
. Colonel Crockett.

Paw. ‘

. ’Job Dean.

. The Wood Kin .

. The Scalped unter.
. Nick the Scout.

. Tho exas Ti er.

. ghe Crossed T hives.
. igerﬁeea't. rocker
. The Masked Avenger
. The Pearl Pirates.

. Black Panther.
Abdiel, the. Avenger

8 Cato theCr-ee

. Two-Handed Mat;
. Mad Trail Hunter.
. Black Nick.
. Kit Bird. .
The Sp’ecter Riders.
Giant ete. "
. The Girl Ca
. Yankee Ep .
Silverspur.

uatter Dick.

129. T e Child Spy.
130. Mink Cost.
131. Red Plume.

132. 3 Clyde, the Trailer.
1% The Lost Cach

e.
The Cannibal Chiet.

135. Karaibo.
136. Scarlet Moccasin.
137. Kidna

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37

 
BEABLE’S HALF-DIME LIBRARY.-

Every one of them “ Live” stories hy “Live” Authors. Each number
a Complete Novel, at the extraordinary price ore HALF-DIME.

1 Deadwood Dick, TEE PRINCE or THE
ROAD. By Edward L. Wheeler.

Yellowstone J ack: or, THE TRAPPER

or THE ENCIIANTED GROUND. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

3 Kansas Kin%; or, THE RED RIGHT
HAND. By 1mm: 0 Bill (Hon. Wm. F. Cody).

4 The Wild-Horse Hunters. By Capt.

Mayne Reid and Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

5 Vagabond Joe ; THE YOUNG WANDEII—
mo JEw. By Oll Coomee.

6 Bill Biddon. Tragﬁier: or, LIFE IN

THE NOETIIWEST. By ward 8. Ellis.

7 The Flying Yankee; or, TEE OCEAN
OUTCAsT. y Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

8 Seth Jones; or, TEE CAPTIVES ON THE
FRONTIER. By Edward S. 

9 The Adventures of Baron Mun-

chausen.
10 Nat Todd; or, TIIE FATE on THE
Sioux CArrIVE. By Edward 8. Ellis.
11 The Two Detectives; or, THE
FORTUNES or A BOWERY GIRL. A.W. Aiken.
l2 Gulliver’s Travels. A Voyage to
Lilliput, and 3. Voyage to Brobdingnng.

13 The Dumb Spy. By 011 Coomes,

author 0: “ Vagabond Joe," etc.
14 Aladdin; or, THE WONDERFUL
LN.

15 The Sea-Cat: or, TEE WITCH or
DARIEN. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

16 Robinson Crusoe. His Life and
Surprising Adventures, (27 illustrations.)

17 Ralph Roy, The Boy Bucca-
neer. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

1 8 Sindbad the Sailor. His seven voy-
ages. From the Arabian Nights.

The Phantom Sp : or, TEE PILOT
or TEE PRAIRIE. By uﬂalo Bill.
 The Double Daggers: or DEAD-
woon DICE’s DEEIANCE. By E. LFVheeler,
21 Frontier Angel. A Romance 01'
Kentucky Rangers‘ Life. By E. 8. Ellis.
22 The Sea Serpent: or THE BOY
ROBINEON CRUSOE. By Col. Juan Lewis.
23 Nick 0’ the Ni% t: or, TEE Bor

Srr or ‘76. By '1‘. Harbaugh.

Diamond Dirk: or, THE MYSTERY
or TEE YELLOWSTONE. By 001. Ingraham.

25 The Boy Ca tain: or, THE PIRATES
DAUGHTER. y Roger Starbuck.

26 0m.  Demon-
27

Antelope Abe, the Boy Guide.
By 011 Coomem
28 Buﬂ'alo Ben: or. DEADwoon DICK
Di Dream ByEdwardLWheeler.
29

The Dumb Pa e; OR, THE DOGE’s
30 Roaring Ralph Rockwood, THE

By

DAUGETEE. I By apt. F. Whittaker.
RECELESS RANGER. By Barry St. George.

31 xeemxnife, TEE PRINCE or TEE
Panama. By OllCOomes.

R. ill :
32 Bﬂkg‘ﬂﬂ’ Bﬁﬁﬁdiirt‘h..tﬁ

The Ocean Bloodhound; Ol‘,.THE

RED PIRATES OE TEE CARIBBEES. S.W. Pierce.

34 Oregon Sol; or NICK WEIEELES’
307 Sn. By Capt. i r. 0. Adams.

3 "' Wild Ivan, THE BOY CLAUDE DUVAL;

D By Edward L. Wheeler.
36 The Boy Clown; or, THE QUEEN or
'l'EI MA. By Frank 3. Finn.
The Hidden Lodge; or, TEE Ll'l'l‘LE

HumormAnmoNDAcxs. Earbaugh.
38 Ned WJylde, TEE Bor SCOUT. By
Tens not.

 
39 Death-Pace, the Detective.
Edward L. Wheeler.

40 Roving Ben. A story of aYoung
American. By John J. Marshall.

41 Lasso Jack, THE YOUNG MUSTANG-
ER. By 01] Coomos.

42 The Phantom Miner: or, DEAD-
. WOOD DICR‘SBONANZA. ByEdLWheeler.

43 Dick Darling. the Pony Express

By

Rider. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
4 Rattlin Rube: or, THE NIGHT-
HAWKS or TUCKY. ByHarrySt. George.

45 Old Avalanche, the Great An-
nihilator. By Edward L.Wheeler.

46 Glass Eye, the Great Shot ofthe
West. By Capt. J. F. 0. Adams.

47 Nightingale Nat: on, THE romw
ArTAINS. By T. C. Harbaugh.

48 Black J ohn, the Road-Agent.
By JOE. E. Badger, Jr. ‘

49 Omaha Oil; or, DEADwoon DICK IN
DANGER. By Edward L. Wheeler.

50 Burt Bunker, THE TRAPPER. A

Tale of the Northwest. By C. E. Lasalle.

51 The Bo Riﬂes. or, THE UNDER-
GROUND AKP. By Archie 0. Iron.

52 The White Buﬁ'alo. A Tale of
Strange Adventure. Charles E. Lasalle.

5 3 Jim Bludsoe. J r., THE BOY PHEN'lx;
or,TEROUGs TO THE DEATH. E. LWheeler.

54 Ned Hazel, TIIE BOY TRAPPEB; or,
Tm: l’EANToE PRINCESS. By J. F. C. Adams.

5 5 Deadly-Eye,.TEE UNKNOWN SCOUT;
By Buﬂalo Bill.

56 Nick Whimes’ Pet, or IN THE
VALLEY or DEATH. Capt. J. O.Adams.

57 Deadwood Dick’s Eagles 3‘ or,
TEE PARns or FLOOD BAR. E. . Wheeler.

5 8 The Border King; or, THE SECRET
FOE. By 011 Coomes.

59 Old Hickory, or, PANDY ELLIS’S

SCALE By Harry st. George.
60 The White Indian; or, THE SCOUT
or TEE YEmes'mNE. ByJ. F. C. Adams.

61 Buekhorn Bill, or, THE RED RIFLE
Tull. By Edward L. Wheeler.

62 The Shadow Shi , or, THE RIVAL
LIEUTENANTS. ByCo.PI-entisslngraham.

63 The Red Brotherhood, or, THE
TWELVE AVENOEns. By W. J. Hamilton.

64 Dandg Jack. or, TEE OUTLAW or
TEE REGON TRAIL. By '1‘. C. Harbaugh.

5 Hurricane Bill, or. MUSTANG SAM

AND HIS "FARO." By JOS. E. Badger, Jr.

66 Single Hand, or, A LIFE FOR A LIFE.
By W. J. Hamilton.

67 Patent-Leather Joe: or, OLD RAT-
TLESNAEE, TEE CHARMER. By P. S.Warne.

The Border Robin Hood: or, TEE
PRAIRIE ROVER. By Buﬂalo Bill.

69 Gold Riﬂe: or, THE BOY DETECTIVE

on THE BLACK RANGE. By E. L. Wheeler.

70 Old Zip’s Cabin; or, THE GREEN-

EORN IN THE WOODS. By J. F. 0. Adam.

7 1 Delaware Dick: THE YOUNG RAN-
GER SPY. By 011 Coomes.

72 Mad Tom Western, TEE TEXAN
RANGER. By W. J. Hamilton.
73 Deadwood Dick on Deck. By
Edward L. Wheeler.

74 Rigging 13ya awn?“
75

The Boy Duelist: or, THE CRUISE
  Colt. the Crow-Killer. M

or TEE EA Wow. By COL P. Ingreham.
Albert W. Aiken.

 
77 Corduroy Charlie; or, THE LAST
ACT or DEAnwoon DICK. By E. L. Wheeler.

7’ 8 Blue Dick; or, THE YELLOW CHIEr’s
VENGEANOE. By Captain Mayne Reid.

79 Sol Gin er, TEE GIANT TRAI‘I'EB. Byk
Albert . Aiken.

80 Rosebud Rob; or, NUGGET NED, TEE
KNIGHT or TEE Glows. By E. L. Wheeler.

81 Li§htnin€a Jo, THE TERROR or Till
ILAIRIE. y Captain J. F. 0. Adams.

82 Kit Harefoot. THE WOOD-HAWK; or,
OLD POWDER-FACE. By '1‘. C. Harbaugh.

83 Rollo. the Boy R g or, THE

HEIRESS or TEE GOLDEN HORN. Oll Coomes.

84 Idﬁ}, the Girl Miner: or ROSEBUD

3 ON HAND. By Edward L. Wheeler.

85 Buck Buckram: 0R, BESS, TIIE FE-
EALE TRArrEE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams. '

86 Dandg Rock, TnEMAN~EROM-TEX—
‘3- y
or DEVIL'a ISLAND. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

Ph t h Ph :
88 £33m ii on, ROBEBUD
I FANILY. By author of “Jack Harkaway."
The captain of the Club. By
IN SITTING BULL’B Cm. By E. L.Wheeler.
Midnight Jack. THE ROAD-AGENT.
9 5 The Rival Revere. By Lieutenant

Edward L.

98 Robin Hood, TEE OUTLAWED EARL.
By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve.
 Deadwood Dick in Leadville.
By Edward L. Wheeler.

 Dick Dead-E a, Ten BOY SEUG-

GLER. By 001. entiss lnmham.

G. Waldo Browne.
8 7 The Land Pirates: OR, THE LEAGUE
rEARANCE. By Ed. L. Wheeler.
89 Island Jim: OR, THE PET or 'l‘IIE
The Dread Rider: 0R, TIIE TEXAN
DUELIs'r. By George W. Browne.
9 1 Braceb dge Hemyng. (Jack Barkaway.)
92 Canada Chet: or, OLD ANACONDA
9 3 The Boy Miners: or, THE ENCEANTED
ISLAND. By Edward 3. Ellis.
94 By T. O. Harbauzh. .
COL Hazeltine.
W tch - B THE DETECTIVE. B
96 8' Rita... y
97 The Outlaw Brothers: or, TEE
CArTrvE or TEE HARPEI. By J. J. Marshall.
99 The r of Taos. By George
Waldo rowne.
1 0 1 Jack HR rkaway in New Yank.
By Bracebrldge Hemyng.
TheLion of the Sea. By Col.
Delle Sara.
 Deadwood Dick’s Device.
Edward L. Wheeler.

By

10 5 Old Rube, TEE HUNTER- or, TEE
Caow CAr'rxva By Capt. .Holmes.

106 °‘T‘.‘o.‘.‘.‘;‘:.':.’;..*}‘° We By

 One-Eyed Sim; OgyTHE ABAN-

DONED FORESTHOIIE. J. L. Bowen.
TE
1 08 DEE: as... .2; 52.11:: m

 Deadwood Dick as Detective.

By Edward L. Wheeler.
1 1 0

Ready August 26th. ‘
The Black Steed of the Prai-
ries. By James L. Bowen.
Ready September 8d.
 The SemDevi}; (align; Mmsmr-
w ° “"- steam-a.
A new laud every week.

Nnmw'ﬂimmhubgo'woﬁgﬁ I?!" ‘u
e ve can per y a
meat om cent: each. KEADLE a was.
Pub hers, 93 wmiun Street. New York.

iii‘.’

 
EADLE’S

 
32 Largo. Three-Column Pagel.

LA Hard Crowd: OR, GENTLEMAN]

SAM's HISTHH. By Philip S. Warne.

2. The Dare-Devil: OR, THE VVINGED ‘
\VITCH or THE SEA. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

3. Kit Carson, Jr., THE CRACK SHOT or
run \VEST. By Buckskin Sam. '

4. The Kidnappcr: OR, THE GREAT
SHANGHAI OF‘ THE NORTHWEST. By Philip S. Warm.

5. The Fire-Fiends: OR, HERCULES, TIE
HI‘N<:IIII.\"'{. By A. P. Morris.

6. Tufildcat Bob, THE Boss BRI’ISER : ‘
OR, THE NUMBER BLOODHOUan. By Edward L. ‘Vhee- ‘
ler,auiliorof “Deadwood Dick,” “Double Daggers." ‘

7. Death-Notch, THE DESTRCYER: OR,
THE SPIRIT LAKE AVENGERS. By 011 Coomes.

8. The Headless Horseman. A strange .
story of Texas. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9. Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.

10. Vidocq, THE FRENCH POLICE SPY.
Written by himself.

1 1. Midshipman Easy.
ryat.

12. The Death-Shot : OR, TRACKED To
DEATH. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

13. Pathawag: OR, NICK WHIrms, THE
OLD TRAPPER. OE THE ORTHWEST. By Dr. J. H. Rob-

on.

14. Tha endanegea, THE SCOURGE ;
on, THE WAR- .AGLE OF THE MOHAWKS. By Ned Bunt-
inv, author of “The White Wizard."

15. The Tiger-Slayer: 0R, EAGLE-
lIEAD TO THE RESCUE. By Gustave Aimard.

16. The White Wizard: OR, THE GREAT
PROPHET or THE SEMINOLES. By Ned Buntline.

l7. Nightshade, THE ROBBER PRINCE
DE HOUNSLOW HEATH. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

18. The Sea Bandit: OR, THE QUEEN
or THE ISLE. By Ned Buntline.

19. Red Cedar, THE PRAIRIE OUTLAW.
By Gustave Aimard.

20. The Bandit at Bay OR, THE PI-
RATES or THE PRAIRIES. By Gustave Aimard.

21. The Trapper’s Daughter: OR,
THE OUTLAW‘S FATE. By Gustave Almard.

22. Whitelaw: OR, NATTIE OF THE LAKE
SHORE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson,

23. The Red Warrior: 0R, STELLA
'DELORHE‘s COMANCHE LOVER. By Ned Buntline.

24; Prairie Flower. By Gustave Ai-
mard, author Of “Tiger~Slayer." etc.

25. The Gold-Guide: OR, STEEL ARM,
I'HE REGULATOR. By Francis Johnson.

26. The Death-Track: OR, THE OUT-
LAWS OF THE MOUNTAIN. By Francis Johnson.

27. The S otter-Detective: OR, THE
GIRLS or NEW ORK. By Albert W. Aiken.

Q.

By Capt. Mar-

 
LIBRARY.

 
KIT CARSON, m—No. 3.

28. Three-Pingored Jack, THE ROAD-
AGENT OF THE ROCKIES; OR, THE BOY MINER or HARD
LUCK. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

29. Tiger Dick, THE FARO KING; or,
THE CASHIER’S CRIME. By Philip S. Warne, author
of “A Hard Crowd,” etc.

30. Gospel Geor e: or, FIERY' FRED,
THE OUTLAW. By Josep E. Badger, Jr.

31. The New York ‘ Sharp ;’ OR, THE
FLASH or LIGHTNING. By Albert W. iken,

32. B’hoys of Yale; OR, THE SCRAPES
OEA HARD SET OF COLLEGIANs. By John D. Vose.

33. Overland Kit. By Albert W.
Aiken.

34. Rocky Mountain Rob.
bert W. Aiken.

35. Kentuck, the Sport.
W. Aiken.

36. Injun Dick. By Albert W. Aiken.

3'7. Hirl, the Hunchback; OR, THE
SWORDHAKER or THE SANTEE. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

38. Velvet Hand; on, THE IRON GRIP or
INJUN DICK. By Albert W. Aiken.

39. The Russian Spg: OR, THE BROTH-
ERS or THE STARRY CROSS. By rederick Whittaker.

40. The Long Haired ‘Pards;’ OR,
THE TARTARs or THE s. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

41. Gold Dan: OR, THE WHITE SAVAGE
on THE GREAT SALT LAKE. By Albert W. Aiken.

42. The California Detective: OR,
THE \VITCHES or NEW YORK. By Albert W. Aiken.

43. Dakota Dan, THE RECKLEss RANGER;
or. THE BEE-HUNTERS EXCURSION. By 011 Coomes.

44. Old Dan Rackback, THE GREAT

EXTARMINATOR; or, THE TRIANGLE’s LAST TRAIL.
By 011 Coomes.

45. Old Bull’s Eye, THE LIGHTNING
SHOT or THE PLAINS. By Joseph E. Badger, JR.,

46. Bowie-Knife Ben, THE LITTLE
HUNTER or THE NOR‘-WEsT. By 011 Coomes.

47. Paciﬁc Pete, THE PRINCE or THE
REVOLVER. By J OS. E. Badger.

48. Idaho Tom, THE YOUNG OUTLAW
or SILVERLAND. By 011 Coomes.

49. The Wolf Demon, or, THE QUEEN or
THE KANAWHA. By Albert W. Aiken.

50. Jack Rabbit, THE PRAIRIE SPORT;

or, THE CHILDREN OF THE LLANo ESTACADO. By J as.
E. Badger. Jr.

51. Red Rob, THE BOY ROAD-AGENT.
By 011 Coomes.
52. Death Trailer, THE CHIEF OF

Scams; or. Life and Love in a Frontier Fort. By
Hon. \Vm. F. Cody, (Buffalo Bill.)

53. Silver Sam; or, THE MYSTERY or
Deadwoon CITY, By Col, Delle Sara.

54. Always on Hand; or, THE SPORTIVE

BY Al-
By Albert

Each Number Complete. Price 10 cts.

55. The Scalp Hunters. A ROMANCE on
THE PLAINS. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

56. The Indian Maze pa; or, THE
MAD MAN or THE PLAINS. By lbert W. Aiken.

57. The Silent Hunter; or, THE SCOWL
HALL MYSTERY. By Percy B. St. John.

58. Silver Knife: or. WICKLIrr-E, THE
ROCKY MOUNTAIN RANGER. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

59. The Man From Texas: or, THE
OUTLAW or ARKANSAS. By Albert W. Aiken.

60. Wide Awake: or, THE IDIOT or
THE BLACK HILLS. By Frank Dumout.

61. Captain Seawaif. THE PRIVATEER.
By Ned Buntline.

62. Loyal Heart; or, THE TRAI’PERS or
ARKANSAS. By Gustave Aimard.

63. The Winged Whale.
W. Aiken.

64. Double-Si ht, the Death Shot.
By Joseph E. Badger, r.

65. The Red Rajah: or, THE SCOUROE
or THE INDIES. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

By Albert

66. The Specter Barque. A TALE
OF THE PACIFIC. By Captain Mayne Reid.
67. The Boy Jockey: or, HONEST?
VERSUS CROOKEDNEss. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.
68. The Fighting Trapper: or, KIT
CARSON To THE RESCUE. By Capt. J. F. C. Adams.
69. The Irish Captain: A TALE or
FONTENOY. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

70. Hydrabad, THE STRANGLER;
ALETHE, THE CHILD or THE CORD. By Dr 4 
Robinson. '

71. Captain Cool Blade, or, THE MAM
SHARK or THE MISSISSIPPI. By Jos. E. Badger, J1.
Ready July 3d.

72. The Phantom Hand. A STORY on
NEW YORK HEARTHS AND HOMES. By Albert W.
Aiken. Ready July 17th.

'73. The Knight of the Red Cross;
or, THE MAGICIAN or GRANADA. A Tale Of the Al-
hambra. By Dr. J. H. Robinson. Ready July 3m.

74. Captain of the Riﬂes. A ROMANCE
or THE MEXICAN VALLEY. By Captain Mayne Reid.
Ready August 14th.

A new issue every week.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale bzv all
Newsdealers, ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each. BEADLE 8: ADAMS,
Publishers, 98 William Street. New York.

 
SPORT or THE FOOT HILLS. By Phillip S. Warns,
author of “ A Hard Crowd." “Patent Leather Jf" '

EIDSHIPHAN twin—No. 1L