I ‘ ' 4 ‘, ‘ I ‘ l M U ' r t W " “W H ‘H WWW" ,Ml 1‘.L'.¥.‘1';IU'IMRnEMib 3W;WWW“ML h ,1. I I 1 a u‘!‘ ' w COPYRIGHTED IN Iat;4.lav agf‘x‘g' »— -.. .1._,‘ -—»- 7. w "* = ‘-‘—‘— 2-— Esmub AT m: Posr 0mm: n NEW YORK. N. Y., AT SECOND CLASS MAIL Rum. Published Every £€CLKZZ€ (f- vfldanls. (FULN'NLPTS, Tenunu‘mw. Wednm‘y- s.» WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.. Juno 4, 1m. “~00 ‘ Y9" STAMPBDE STEVE; or, THE 000M [IF THE DOUBLE FACE. BY "BUCKSKIN SAM“—Major Sam S. Hall. AUTHOR OF “ nunoxn mcx.“ “ THE TERRIBLE TONKAWAY,“ “Kn masox, JR,“ “BIG mm WALLACE." mo. \ . ’L A y i l”. .‘=-";'C L ‘ ‘ o‘ r \‘ (, -. .u “\\\‘v."\'\ ‘8 STIVI LINED THE SENEELEES MAIDEN, HE PIRCEIVED THAT THE HORNE 0" m BLAIN BEAST HAD NOT INJURED "EB- THAT FEE HAD “SLY FWVOONEI). 1 forward, and lifted it partly rom the dew with the golden glow—the first kisses of Old ‘ali hind, was a medium-sized, 2 Stampede ‘ Steve. ‘4. __.. ..___ Stampede Steve; The Doom of the Double Face. BY BUCKSKIN SAM, (MAJ. SAM s. HALL,) ans-non or “KIT CARSON, JR,” “MOUNTAIN moss,” “DANDY nave,” arc., s'rc. CHAPTER I. A swam svsrmsn. “Ham. Nero! You are trampling some of the most beautiful flowers I have found this morning. I must have some of those blooming ‘ _ for a wreath. What a delicate pink I, ink they are perfectly lovalyl" ‘ speaker sprung lightly to the ground he- foraithe word's hadleft her lips, proving by her moments that she was askilled equestrianne. Beautiful were hensurroundmgs : but a love- liness that is more striking must first claim our attention. _ The fair rider was a maiden of some sixteen ' a den hter of the Sunny South. or 33mm hight, or form was well developed, and she was sprightly and graceful as a young antelope of the prairies. Her hair wasof a. golden br0wn, and hung in rippling, wavy masses, to her waist, being artial y confined by a wide-brimmed Gypsy at, and a light blue ribbon. loosely secured below the ears in a jaunty bow. Her face was urely Grecian in type, and her color was now eepened by a canter in the cool and bracin air of the morning. Eyes of a heavenly b ue, and ripe lips, the form of a Cop ’s bow, which, partin asshe spoke, dis- cl two rows of small a even pearly teeth. 8 " sue attired in a neat-fittinf riding-habit of t green ; the skirt sufficient y short, so as not to retard her movements in mounting with‘ out assistance. As she now ste ped gracefully grass, a pair of small French boots, with big tops, were disclosed to view. A neat lace collar, turned over a ribbon of pink, was confined at her fair throat by a fin- pointed star of old ; and about her slender waist was a wide at carelessly crumpled scar- let scarf, the long fringed ends of which hu'ng to the lowar edge of her skirt. A gold—mounted riding-whip was secured loosely to her right wrist by a loop , and at her leftside, held in place by her sash, werea hand- some revolver, a Colt’s “flvs-shooter,” and a miniature bowie-knife. Such was the maiden whose words open this m chapter of our' narratiVe. She was a Texan girl, Dora Dale b name; and we introduce her to the r ,, , QM distance from that beautiful , j stream the Rio Guadalupe, ‘ cams-i mg a most fertile audiove‘ A , -- of the Star State, rising north .-‘ Bandeau Bills, endemp't ing into - H'" u . I *‘Banto Bay in the Hexique .:z . is}; ~ TO‘tho‘north of Dora’s position c ‘ '* A, , plaiilyaaanthe timber of the river, towb . a dense, dark vine-tangled will of verdure—aheie tha' scatth liva-oaks' , Th'lswss butaz‘1 2 I; ' which fringed it at this int. $00?stle from town of Halli. ; and re were smallm , . heath the lower branches efwhlch > r- wth; and th ‘ ' lovely flower- the fan-stretch ng (pen in such near proximal. Bars of golden sunlight shot through the: n enameled foliage of the cake; and be- ?”ween the same the small “ opens "were fl Sol, just from his oriental. ourney. And where the light of the day-go shone, the tens of thousands of dew-drops—tho tears of Nature-— him like glittering jewels from ieafand blade, ing a most bril iant effect to the scene. The horse from which the fair girl had clean-umber! eed, of Spanish and multang “00k, and blue as ebony. \_ ‘ -~ The animal was a beauty, and built for and endurance, as are nearly all beast o the blood mentioned. Its eyes were lax; andin- telli out, and its fiery nature was we by I congnual stampin and tossing of the Well were mai and mustan suitedteaaeh- other, the two forming a per set pictnfl of equestrian grace and beauty. A saddle and bridle of fine workmanship, and a neck-rope of horse-hair, artistically wow, secured in a coil to a loop on the saddle, " u the equipments; but Dora, in hij It d scovering some rare flowers, had lasted to loosen the coil and retain the slack o {the rope in her hand, as a recaution in case her restive ' that it wished to do, although its evidently in- creased alarm had not been noticed by its mis- tress. Sinking to the earth, Dora carefully brushed aside the dewy grass and drew loci, wiry creepers from the sums. No sooner ad the young girl disturbed these vines from tho-ir natural position than a most fragrant odor arose from the flow-rots, causing exclamations of delight to escape her lips, as she seated her- self and then remOVed her hat, prOCeeding to . decorate it in a tasteful manner With her glean- in rs. 1?" LOVely, indeed,” she said ', “ and so delight— fully fragruntl Why, I never have seen such tiny beauties! And the perfume is as strange to me as it is sweet. On, I do hope they are to be found where papa is going! “ I presume they are, and many others that I have never seen. They say the prairies West of San Antonio are covered with the most beauti- ful iand fragrant flowers. How the birds do smg ' “ This is just lovely. Papa thought I would not like it, but it is a real pleasure excursion to me. “ However, I shall be obliged to remain near those horrid wagons, I sup so, after we get . further west, or get ‘ corral ,' as the teamsters say, by Indians, or torn to bits by bears and panthers. “ I think Nero ought to be able to take care of me by runmn from any such dangers, if I were ever so far mm the train. " Heigh-hol I’ll not worry about mfi‘liberty being curtailed until the time Comes. hen we shall see what we shall see.” Thus speaking, in a flute-like voice and rapid manner, Dora proceeded to finish the floral decoration of her hat, breaking out, as she fin- ished, in a simple song with a lively air. As the maiden had ridden amid the oaks, she had at times cast sweeping glances through the vista of trees, but no moving object had she detected. Indeed, there was nothin within the scope of vision that gave evidence 0 life except the birds. We have mentioned, however, that Nero was more excited—in fact, showed sym toms of alarm—as his mistress had sprung mm the saddle; and had not Dora been so intent upon the rare flowers she had discovered, she would have noticed that her favorite betrayed unusual symptoms of fright. Again, had she not spoken in soiiloquy and then gave vent to her exuberant spirits in song, she wuuld have heard sounds tha were alarm- ingto heras well as to her horse, and would have mounted and sped on the back trail imme- diately. The mustang, as his mistress knelt upon the sward, all at once became motionless, facing the south, it being but a couple of rifle-shots in distance from the open plain. He then elevated his head and pointed his ears forward in a lis- . ', g attitude while his large eyes, filled with I icim and' alarm, became fixed toward the p am. From that direction came a dull, rumbling mingled with yells, which were, how- ,aver, rely distinguishable as proceeding from .aIcited men. .“A listener, familiar with the stock-raising - - cts of Texas, would have known at once we» were runnin cattle, perhaps lassoing or driving stoc that had strayed from , . g or, it might be, collecting a herd ~ rutn‘linto a corral,“ brand, mar ornepa‘ ‘ hem. . 1 '1- ~ . ~~ '_also have detected the " boots of a‘singla ani< «1,, ‘gensrul din, and much - ~ .Dara Dale was gather- ed, drew nearer and V 'at Nero seems: to reumggr dinsndad, iseyes , m ' float in evident‘alarm. Then "it-M alright, the animal half- , madly toward the bottom- , tang to her feet, cast a hur- ‘ east and west, but saw noth- ja‘hrm ' ’ the noise made by the ‘ har'iowst‘horse mingled with the the same character which had W. Nero. She, therefore, heard not the of danger until it was too ht. to avoldzis; ' flood the beautiful mai 3 in Wt toward her tmmfim‘ns was only for a moment, however, for she as...“ “llw‘” We... “Ma . .. had been noticeable!!! “nae-now in- rsasad , ' ' ‘ it'ba so, “N; , er eyaa was . nit, oruhi from an ad. and darting tow bar, came a ' black steam—aha animal maddened to frenzy l ‘ Theberns of the beast were long and sharp, its 9 as like two coals of fire, and its tongue pro- g animal should das away, and leave her on foot, as the actions of the Mustang seemed to indicate / ng from-its frothing month. On shot that v" .; >_ ' massive black beast, its hair glossy and glitter. ing, while around the base or its horns Was the tightly drawn noose of a lasso,~the slack of the same flying behind it.‘ The mark, too, of'the branding-iron could be plainly seen. This was large and fresh, and a stockman would at once have known that the steer had but recently been lassoed hurled to the Earth and branded. Not only this, but the animal u as a “ Maverick,” w hich proved it to be wild and fierce, and of extraordinary strength. Had this not been the case, it would have been branded before it had reached the age of four years, and its full gromh , ' The long, slender horns of the beast Were sharp-pointed and lance-like. the fierce bead hanging)downward, and the brisket and lolling tongue rushing thegrass. It had, without doubt, escaped its skilled captors. Electric-like flew the hoofs. "l‘he steer, frantic with rage and pain, dashed directly toward the young girl, bellowmg madly ;.its hloodshot eyes glaring upon her, and its legs spread, to givs power to its terrible charge, and to prevent being overthrown by the expected shock. Stran e to say, the maddened.brute stopped within {teen feet of the poor terrified girl. Then, with fiercer bellowing, it wed the sward, and tore up the earth, douby enra ed when it caught sight of the scarlet scarf t at was worn bv the maiden. So horrified and dumfounded was Dora at this totally undreamed-of and deadly danger— there seeming no possible way to escape death-— that she stood in her tracks. dazed and unable to move. She was, indeed, paralyzed with terror, her fixed position having doubtless been the cause of the beast’s halting, as it recognized an upright form, resembling those of its reCent persecutors and torturers. Only for a moment. did the mad steer pause. The red scarf about Don’s waist app: ared to doubly infuriatethabeafi; and, g to paw the ground, it lowered its head, thered all its immense muscular force, and s ot forward with a terrible and unearthlyg'oar of frantically furious madness! Like as if suddenly transformed to stone, ghastly as the dead. her eyes fixed and starting, glassy, and filled with dread terror and deathly despair, her tongue cleaving to the roof of her mouth. powerless to move or speak. Thus stood Dora Dale! An instant more, and the long lance-like horns would be plunged through that fair form, and she be tossed in the air, and then fall, and be gored and trampled beyond the semblance of humanity! But, in that one brief instant, the sharp whip- like report of a rifle sounded on the still morn- ing air, and the huge black irate fell dead, the blood gushin from mouth and nostrils, at the very feet of ts intended victim. And as an echo to the report of the rifle, out fromthe lips of the maiden ca me a soul-search- ing shriek of mortal terror and deathly horror; but with that wild cry, was banished all sense, (or the time. ‘ Up in air went her arms, in hopeless despair; and forward, prone betWeen the horns, and upon the very neck of the dying brute, fell Dora Dale! CHAPTER ll. no ornssn mum AND NONE ram. Bur some forty paces to the west of the point where Dora Dale had dismounted from Nero, to Pmek “16 flowers was a small butdanse motto 0‘ “"0838: an , to the southwest, about the same distance from both, was a r clump of "998. the undergrowth being is. t iok. From this last it w , that the" mad It”! had rushed. havin plun; into it {rem the south side, as it d ed em.“ gages-ing trees mill:me ope" M“ i w it had been ore reach th s a . seen b one, who waser stiefy from the timber o; the Guadalupe ob , ely from the north- west. This was a young man, of perhaps twenty years of use. and 0"? Whowould-com- mend attention and admiration in any assem— me, even lhi one of distinguished men. ' . was above the medium night, his {om a s of perfect manhood, his face handsome, minis eye- clearand hazel; while the ea er lance, abd the instantaneous clutch and co of fat-0 when he Perceived the infuriated beast, as well n his costume and sun, “on hat he wasoneWhowasaccustomadto, 4 lfeon the plains. X .. His symmetrical for-ur- fln‘tad ._at unusual math. and his movements were grace itself. Long dark-brown hair hung in W"! mas-98. low over his well-rounded s oulders, while a goatee and mustache. silky in fineness and gloss, added to the manly beauty of his face, which was tanned by sun and wind. . Buckskin breaches. frin and ornamented with silver buttons down a outer seams, were sustained about his waist by both belt and silk- en red sash. The breeches were thrust into the tops of high-legged boots of calfskin, upon the heels of which were buckled a pair of silver spurs, with but medium rowels. l \ q l .':Jemhu-a‘ge was the form the unknown an- Stampede Steve. 3 A blue woolen shirt, with wide collar loosely confined at the neck by a black kei-chief, and a black widebrimmed sombrero, made up his] semi-Mexican costume. A brace of revolvers, Colt's army size. and. a huge bowie. were in scabbards at his belt, while a Snarp's carbine hung at his saddle-horn. His equipments were of the best workman. , ship. and in everything, he had the air _and I manner of a prairie roamer, if not a skilled, scout. l Strongly marked for endurance, as well as speed, was the animal he rode; a beauty, and 3 its every movement, grace, fire, and Vlm. . The horse was a dark bay, With an abundant . mane and tail of wavy hair; its forclock hang- E ing, when not at speed, below its eyes, which were large, and unusually expressive. Such was Stephen Speed, a well known ran- ger and scout of West Texas, a little more than twenty years ago. He was commonly called Steve, or Steve the Scout; and, by some, Stampede Steve, from the fact that he was a‘headlong rider, and skilled in stampeding herds of mustangs into trap-cor- rnls, on the upper Rio Nueces, or elsewhere. A perfect type of a darin Texas scout was Steve; and, as he discove the on-plunging, maddened steer, with the tell-tale lasso about its neck. which explained its fury, he immedi- ately coiled and adjusted the loop of his own lariat. As thus described, man and mustang presented a sight to rivet the gaze and admira- tion of any observer. Erect sat Steve in his saddle the slack of his lasso coiled over his left arm, the end of it being attached to his saddle-horn. Thus pre red, he ave a slight hiss, and his noble, we l-trained gorse shot forward, taward the northern side of the little motto, which hid Dora Dale from the youn scout’s view. Well he knew that, mad- den as the brute was, it would not remain long in the clump of oaks into which it had so frantica’ll dashed; and his intention was to spur out rom behind the matte, upon the res pearance of the animal, and lasso it. He won d then regain the rope from its neck, and hold it, until those who were probably in chase should come up. . But a most astounding surprise awaited Steve, and instantly changed his plans. First, as be reached the little motto toward the river, from behind it bounded a beautiful black horse, saddled and bridled, the animal speeding headlong with snorts of sflright. Instantly the young scout dro the lam coil over the horn of his saddle, clutched his carbine, and springing to the ground, bounded around the mails to a position that com- mandeda view of its eastern side. There he stood, bewildered at the sight of the terrified maiden. Never before had he beheld such angelic beauty and grace. Pallid as a corpse she stood, unconscious of the presence of the young man, who for the moment was rendered as power- less as herself by her unearthly loveliness apd fearful danger. At once it flashed upon him that he was too late: and, indeed, he would have been, had not the steer halted tobellow mad] and tear up the sod in a challenge to cont! ct. . Not an instant longer did the amazement of the young man delay him. Up Went his weapon to his shoulder, and he glanced over the siglhts. kmhe life of the maiden depended upon his s . The beast was broadside to him. and conse- quent: to shootlt through the brain was im- ossi e. pBesides, to render such a shot as he was obliged to make more dimcnlt, themsddened brute was plunging onward toward its intended victim as t e scout took aim. Like a man of iron stood Steve, every we and muscle rigid, and his carbine as steady as it held in a vise. A moment after. the weapon belched flre and was buried to the earth, a. the young man jerked his revolver and bounded forward, ejaculatin loudly: “ Thank Godl Tgsnk God!” The bullet had done its work well. The huge. black brute had been pierced' through the vita 8. ~ As Dora Dale threw up her arms and shriek , the young 300‘" save vent to his tortured feel- ings in 8 (19°F '0‘"; but as Steve lifted the senseless maiden. P'l't‘eivod that the horns of the slain beast had not injured her—that she had only swoonsd. l , In the whirl of sgoaislng emotions. that had ruled him as he rushed forward, Steve at first feared that his sense of sight had deceived him, and that the young girl Md killed. These first startling emotions having been banished, he strode toward the clam of oaks and looked toward the south for any of the pursners of the steer he had just shot. Seeing no indications of being intruded upon. his handsome taco am an BXpmsiou of relief, which soon changed to the most intense admiration. ‘ U his arm now rested that fair head: his breast lay hers; within his "" 's 1‘ fielic being whom he had saved from a terrible ! S ringing from Dora’s side to his horse, he oath. Steve Speed was overcome with feelings such as he had never before experienced. He could hardly believe his senses. ed to have become another man, t: rough the un- dreamed-of happiness of the moment. All this was in an instant. as the young scout strode toward the motto ; the sight of his horse, He seem- ‘ standing at the edge of the undergrowth, recall- l ing him to the actual realities, and the duties of the moment. with Dora still in his arms, and gently bathed her head. Had not his anxiety and sympathy crushed down all other considerations, and in- clinations, Steve would, doubtless, not have striven to hasten the recovery of his fair charge; as, in his heart, he feared that, upon returning exc aimed, as be bounded into his saddle: “Forgive me, Miss Dora! But, really, I could not resist the temptation. I have n rude, and haVe more than canceled all your imagined indebtedness. I go now to lasso your horse, and lead the animal to you. “Please remain in or near the matte until I return." Waving his hand gracefully in a parting salutatiou, Steve drove spurs, and shot toward 5 the bottom-timber: his heart cheered, and filled Detaching his Canteen from his saddle with I one hand, be seated himself upon the sward, ‘ to consciousness, she would merely thank him 3 for the service he had rendered, and vanish for- ever from his sight and life. Feelings, such as be had never before even dreamed of possessing, had somewhat demoral- ized the mind of the young scout; and, to end his misgivings and forebodings, he placed the canteen nozzle between the lips of the senseless girl, and alIOWed a tiny stream to run into her mouth. Casting the vessel aside, Steve quickly clasped Dora’s wrist, detecting a faint pulsation. Soon, the fair girl uttered a faint moan, and her face became stamped with horror; indicating that, with returning consciousness, her brain still re tained the terrible picture last photographed upon it. A shudder convulsed her fair form, and, in place of slowly opening her eyes, and gradually realizing the near past, all seemed tobe recalled in an instant except the last act in the tragic drama. With a piercing cry of horror, her eyes flashed open, her arms were thrown up- ward, and were clasped about the neck of her preserver. Then, as sudden] realizing that she had been saved, she threw erself backward from the youn scout, and gazed into his face, in the at- most wilderment. Both were too much over come to speak; but Steve, perceiving that his fair char was in a most embarrassing posi- tion. quic ly arose, as hehexclaimed: “Pardon me, miss! But you recovered so suddenly and unexpectedly, that you quite startled me. I am not much accustomed to the society of your six, and was completely upset by our being in a faint.” e dygung man iter raised his sombrero, as be t addi- Dora; the latter, for a mo- ment, gazing in some confusion into his hand- some faee, and then flaming at the dead steer, and the bay horas wh it stood near them. That rovi glance made all plain to the fair girl, and she me, at once, her own impul- sive, innocent self. Taking both hands of the young scout in hers, she returned, in words that were full of feeling. “ I cannot thank you, as I ought! You have preserved me from a horrible death, and I shall pray for you to my dying day. “Oh, sir, I cannot express my gratitude in words! My father must know. and thank you. We must be friends always. Heaven has brought us ether in a most strange manner, and one most rtunate for me. “My name is Dora Dale, and I shall ever hear this eventful day in mind. Never, never shall I forget you, or cease to pray for your ha plnessl‘ - fispidly and earnestly were these words spoken, while the emotions that prom ted them were mirrored in her beautiful eyes. e scout replied: ‘Pra are from your it His Dale, can scarce ail to be answe . But you overrate my slight service; and, please do not again thank me for an act which has given me more happiness, in a few brief moments, than I evor had dreamt of experiencing. “I am but arou h scontoftbeplains, but I feel much more civi lined. and have more respect for myself, since I have been enabled to reader you a service. But I have not introduced my- self. I am yours to command. Stephen Speed!” He said this while clas ng Dora s hands, and gazing into her face, w ich flushed, and her eyes dropped. at the unmistakable and ardent adoration which was betrayed by his glances. And little less up out were her own emotions. To say that s e was surprised at meeting with one so noble, handsome, and brave—far above any whom she had ever before seen, as she mentally admitted—would be but faintly to express her feelings. She was not only as- tonished. but was proud and happy to owe her life to him. “And, Mr. Speed, I am your most sincere friend, now and forever l” she returned, im- pulsively. . The young man quick] clasped her to his bosom, and imprinted a asty kites upon her brow. For his life he could not resist the im- thst caused him to be thus demonstra- ive: but the next instant he regretted it, and hastened to apologize, in his orig nal and pseu- liar manner. \ ‘v with joy unbounded, as Dora kissed her hen-.1 to him. without any manifestation of having been offended at the liberty he had so rasth taken. CHAPTER III. FROM oxa DANGER TO ANOTHER. STEVE, the Scout, had scarce vanished from the view of Dora Dale when the latter regretted much that she had. not prevented his departure; for she well knew that Nero had alloped to and forded the iiver, dashing, in his right, into her father’s camp. The arrival of the mustang, she was aware, would cause a great excitement, and her father would be apprel ensive in regard to her safety. From the appearance of the horse the would know that she was on the opposite si e of the river from the camp, and a search would be at once instituted. They would, doubtless, meet the young scout, who would explain matters ; but the would insist upon accompanying Steve bac to the matte. ' This would prevent her from seeing the oung man alone, for the present at least, whic was far from leasing to Dora; for after he had gone, she ad thought of a hundred and one things to say and ask of him. And there was still another reason. She feared that his services to her would not be appreciated by at least one person in her father s camp; indeed, more than this, that the individual of whom we shall hereafter speak might insult Steve, and thus cause serious trouble. All in all, the maiden was ill at ease, especi- ally as she had received a terrible shock, she having been torn from the very jaws of death in a horrible form, and her terror drowned in oblivion only to return to consciousnem to be transformed into the utmost gratitude, and a longing admiration toward her rescuer. It required but a short time, however, for Dora to come to a conclusion in r to the nature of the emotions that ru ed her, as she gazed after the fast galloping scout, who sat his horse likes centaur. These thoughts found expression in words. “ How handsome, how graceful he isl Ohl, wig did I allow him to leave?” on Dale was forced to acknowledge to bar self, without much effort or reasonin , that she‘ had met one who was more, or wou be man. thanks“ others to her ; in fact that she had met or to. Bad Steve been less outspoken in regard to ' his own feelings which had pleased her greatly, it would have boon all the same. She felt as- sured that she had been betrayed by look and act and speech. so great] and favorably had she been in Consequently, his words could not be out of place, under the circumstances. Most certainly there had been little felt by either taward this othleci';k that had been plainly revealed by word or . Since she had sprang from her mustan to pluck the flowers, although but little time ssed, events most startling and bewildering ad occurred ; and the half-dazed maiden pres-1d her hands to her forehead and then glanced back, with sshudder, at the huge brute at had so recently been plunging madly to- ward ber, threatening her life. A change had come upon her life in thatbrief time. A thick curtain seemed to have been torn. from before her mind’s eye, revealing brilliant podbilities in the future. The birds seemed to sing more sweetly, the flowers appeared more brilliant, and throw out, on the morning air, a more agreeable perfume. But, each moment increased the uneasiness of Dora’s mind, in to Steve’s departure; her regret, that she had not revented him from setting out, becoming doub ed. Little did she dream that she would have still deeper cause for this regret. She was soon to realise that the apprehensions and regrets she had eptertained wereasna t. compared with a peril Which would Cause or to pray, from her inmost soul, for the {coring scout’s return. to rescue her from a fa far worst; than being gored to death by the furious Dora seated herself in the margin of the bushes that bordered the motto. There she re~. mained thinking, ha mind filled with wonder at her strange emotiOns: reviewing the slightest lance and movement of her preserver, and wly repeating to herself his words. Had an one told her, an hour previous, that she woul under any circumstances, speak pressed by h m and his services» ' I “ hadn’t shooted him. Dang hit! 0 .4 Stampede Steve. she had done to a stranger, she would have laughed in contradiction: considering the sup- position worthy of no other reply. The near past seemed most strange and puzzling to the young girl, as she sat thus, buried in deep thought, and unmindfnl of strange sounds in her immediate vicinity. It was then, that two rnfiianly-looking men galloped headlong from the southwest, around the matte, to the side of the slain steer. . So amazed was the maiden, and so horrified by the terrible oaths they uttered. that she was powerless to move a mll>Cle. She sat, with eyes fixed in dread apprehension, upon the most villainous—looking pair. White men they were, but most brutal were their faces, which were heavily bearded, and with long tangled hair. Low-browed, and with black, treacherous, deep set eyes, they were bruuish in look, and profane in words. Both were clad in ragged buckskin breeches; and tat- tered shirts: their sonihreros being crushed, and smeared with grease. They were also armed, in the usual manner, with knives and revolvers. Mounted upon half-wild mustangs, and their equipments of the most primitiVe kind, it was, evident that these men were not honest ranch- cros, or herders. Dom believed them to be lawless scoundrels, perha horse or cattle thieves. “ a-al, Satan t’ar an” torment ther cuss what shouted our steer!" burst out one, after a. volley of profanity. “Lije, I ’lows, of I gits half a sh0w, ter chuck a ounce or two 0’ lead in- ter ther kiote’s carkidge. Whar‘n ther blazes d’yer s’pose he sknted tn i” “Dash my dod-gmited heart, ef I hes ther laastest idea!” was the reply. ” An’ hit sorter knocks me blind ter form an opine what hit war did fer. “Thar steer war shot plum through ther an’ wa-’uns must back out ther bestest moat, an’ skute lively, or some 0’ ther ranchers mought buck ag’in’ us. Hit ain’t a ver healthy locate, hyerawa s, fer we-‘uns, pard ill!” “ Dog-gone e yer ain’t kerrectl Levaut’s ther word, I reckon. Slash out ther tongue, an’ I’ll go fer a chunk o’ rump. Thar ain’t no time tar skin ther critter. Cuss ther luck! Hyer we- ’uns hev chased this cussed black steer plenty 0’ times, without ittin’ ui h him; and then. arter we had roped h m, an’ s upped our boss brand outer him, da me of he dn’t git ther best on us, :a’ skuto w th one of our lariats ’roun’ his nec ! “ But we’d ha’ had him, an’ run him cross ther Grandse,'ef that galoot—whoever be war— What war ther reason be war ahooted wui’ , "Thar’s bin a rumpus 0’ some sost hyer, Bill. Air yer gittiu’ blind. Thar’s fresh boss-tracks a plain trail, ’intiu’ toward ther river. ‘ Reckon, we'd better skate, for fear ther galoots mought p’iut back. Hit looks kinder ad. ’Paars es though ther steer went for shoddy, st stompods speed, an’ they had tor mg him. or it tossed: thou h I shud s‘posa y mought ’ gut away w ’ tharselvea, beiu’ . a-crlttor-hack “Dang my heart, Bill! Jist g’usdyunderl Thcr sky’s broke loose, an’ a angel sv rapped, er I air aldod-gasted liar!" The pair, as they had convened, had been engaged in cuttin from the carcass of the steer such ions as ad been suggested by Bill; and ije was just securing the tongue of the animal to tho caatle of his‘saddls, when, upon glancing over the same, he caught sight of the aflrighted Dora, who, pale with dread, sat in the same position, rgazing in terror toward the Mass, whose wor s had provod that her con. clusions in requ to their character had been correct. So startled and astonished was Lije, that be mad the host’s tongue to the ground, and . pointing, as he spoke, over the saddle, to. ward the poor terrified maiden. The words of the villain, and his gloating glance, broke the spell that had bound Dora, and she sprung to her feet, and ran shriekingin the direction of the river; but the rank grass and flowers im ded her progress, her feet be- came sntang in creeping vines, and she fell to the earth. “Ketch her, pard Lije! Ketch her er we’re gonors, dead sure! Cuss ther luck, she screaches woss nor a hungry painter, an’ she'll fotch ther gauche”, er somebuddy woss, down outer we- as. Lije had not stopped to pick up the ton e, but sprung around his horse, and bounded a ter v Dora, at the moment that the latter had started to run: Bill remainin to hold the mustangs. When the goor gir fell, the ruman was close upon her, an any further attempt to escape from her pursusr was useless. Clutchlng the horrified maiden in his rough grasp, Lije clapped his filthy band, now smeared I with the blood of the steer, over the mouth of his captive, thus preventing her last hopeless shriek from being heard. Dora, overcome with disgust, fear, horror and despair. again lay limp and senseless in the arms of a man who was an entire stranger, but » Just the opposite, in character and appearance, of the one who had such a short time ago clasp- l spect, and wished, from the bottom of his ed her to his breast. . Certainly it had proved to be an eventful morning to poor Dora Dale! “Grab a bolt on her, Bill!” ordered Lije, quickly, again azing toward the river. “I shut off er yelp, an’ she wilted dead away. She hed p’inted fer ther bi timmer, itin’ thar’s whar she’s spectiu’ sombnd y ter glide roni. “We must skute lively. 1 doesn‘t banker arter sich stock, but shall fotch more ducats over ther Grandee than a hull herd o’ steers. “ Cuss me, ef we-’uns hain‘t struck a raise, er I‘m a lnnk-headed liari” “ Satan tortnr’ meef we hesn’t, Lijel Jump yer critter, an’ I’ll toss her up ter yer. She’s a high-fly piece 0’ domestic—dog-gone me of she ain’tl—an’ purty es a pictur’. “1 begins ter undercomstan’ ther hull biz. Ther steer stompeded et ther gal, an’ her nag slung her of? an’ levanted; then some galoot plugged ther beef, reskied her, an’ skuted arter her boss. He’ll be b er afore soon. “ Git, pard— it! ’m arter yer hot an’ heavy, yer kin bet yer ttom dollar. “Glide s’uth’ard, an’ we‘ll strike ther thick timmer down below!” As the words of the speaker indicate, he had passed the senseless form of the younglgirl up to the arms of Lije, after the latter ad again mounted his mustang. Lije spurred hea long in a. southerly direc- tion, kee ing the mottcs between him and the course mm the dead steer to the river, Bill (piounting and galloping after him at full s pI’le’rom the appearance of these two rufflans upon the scene until their flight with their fair captive, but a few minutes had elapsed; and Dora Dale was being borne away at terrific speed long before any one appeared from the bottom-timber of the Guadalupe. One word from the maiden would have caused Steve, the scout, to abandon his self-imposed mission in search of her mustang, but that word had not been spoken. n such slight omissions and seemingly trifling occurrences, how often does happiness or even life depend! But, had the young man remained, our story would nevsr have been written. CHAPTER IV. A RIVAL IN m can. EXPERIENCle a new-born happiness, Stave Speed galloped toward the shades of the timber that marked the course of the Rio Guadalupe, something less than half a mile from the pomt at which he had so providentially arrived at the very instant which enabled him to rescu a lovely irl from a horrible death, and which had on miuatad in causing such a great change to come over the spirit of is dreams. That this day was the day of all days for him. durin his so cum on earth, Steve was con- vin : also i at he had met the maiden of all maidens to him—one who would rule his des- tiny his heart, h 3 very soul! Filled with lo a and admiration for the fair unknown at first sight, even before he had lanced over the sights of his rifle, his whole in had been drawn toward Dora upon clas ing er unconscious form in his arms; an , when he had gazed into the limpid eyes, so filled with gratitude and admiration—these emotions being revealed so plainly b the inno- ceu trusting, and impulsive girl—t so he had real zed what she must henceforth be to him, if life was to be worthllvin . Clearly, with both, it had been love at first s ght. He had feared that he had oflonded her by his having obeyed an irresistible impulse to press a kiss u her brow, and dreading above all else a l or word of rebuke or scorn from her, he had sprung tothc side of his horse, to avoid such, ihzn into his saddle, and on t0ward the river; all his fears and doubts vanishing, how- ever, as the fair maiden tossed a kiss from her tin r-tips toward him. ' his not caused him to regret having thus abruptly broken his interview with Dora, and he very nearly resolved to return, and claim the privilege of hearing her in his arms before him n the saddle to the river. It was not a long time before be deeply re- gretted not having obeyed that impulse. At the time, however, he reasoned that when he rstnrned with Dora’s mustang, he would have ample opportunity to speak the many words that he wished to say, and to make some arran ments as to their meeting each other in the fa nrs. Steve vowed that he would meet Dora Dale again, at any and all hazards. They had as yet had no time to speak of each other's affairs. He knew nothing. even in re- gard to the circumstances surrounding Dora. She had spoken of her father and his cam , but not at any len th, and she ad said not - ing explanatory 0 its location, or of his busi- ness. .That she belch ed to a family of refinement and intelligence, tsva was positive; but this vs him nosst action—just the opposite, in- csd, for he felt doubts and fears in this-rc- r 92;, Hi v “Brig . 3 '«1’1,» ' "" - r "“ 'im’ " ."r~",.“" H l heart, that she was of a lower stratum in society from that which he felt, from her attire and. speech, she occupied. ' A wandering scout like himself, with but little money, and less ex tations, would have but little chance of ga ning a bride of aristo- cratic family and wealth. Indeed, Steve had. always held money in something like scorn, caring only for what was necessary to supply' his wants. But a change had come over him, and he was fated to realize that love brings with it many torturin emotions, creating doubts and fears almost insupportable, when the object of that, love is in danger. In fact, Steve Speed, the prairie roamer, up to this time free and fearless of the future as» the soaring eagle, was fated, during one short day, to experience such emotions as he had hitherto laughed at. But as he galloped toward the timber of the Guadalupe, he had no warning of what was before him. As unconscious of the misery that was to fol— lo'w from his having met with Dora Dale as he had been a short hour previous of that meeting, on galloped Steve Speed, easily trailing the mustang of the young girl, as the animal had kept the cow-path, where every fresh hoof-print was clearly defined. Soon the heavy timber was reached, the trail leading through the bottom to the river, the same being cleared of trees and undergrowth; this fact roving that the stream was tordable at that po nt. Through the ford the young scout proceeded . and then urged his gallant be up the bank on the north Side of the river an along the trail which continued through the timber. A short gallop brought him within view of a wagon camp on the outer border of the line of tower— ing trees. Beyond the clear space, within which was the camp, was a crescent cf mesquites, which hid the wagons from view. Steve’s keen eyes moved around the camp, which had, in so short a time, become of deep interest to him. There were ‘a dozen wagons, with white cau— vas tilts, which had apparently seen little ser— vice. Groups of men, women and children were around the camp-fires : some preparing the morning meal, others watching, with evident] keen up tites, those who were thus engaged}: The mu es were, doubtless, be and the mes- quites grazing; and from this act, at'such an hour, SteVe would have at once kuovvn that he who controlled the train was not accustomed to this kind of traveling. The camp should have been broken, and t a train miles away, thus avoiding the intense heat of mid-day, which should be passed in a sheltered place. All this, the young scout saw at a glance, and then be perceived a trio of horsemen coming at full speed from the wast side of the camp. Steve saw that these men had, in lead, the mustang of Dora. Dale, and that they were much excited, one of them giving explanations in a lcud Voice. Instantly all was confusion in the camp. Steve had discovered that the mustan had left the cart-trail near the river, and ashed into the timber, and he now knew'that it had made its way through the nude rue th, emerg- ing from it at the western si e of the camp, and but recently. It was certain that these three men were now starting in search of Dora: and also, that they were both sinned and concerned at the return of the horse. Little time had be, however, for thought; the approaching riders {were now gazing at the young scout in astonishment, not unmixed with sugiicion. - us of them was a man of soldicrly a pear. ancc and bearin : of siuewy form, alt ongh somewhat spare 0 flash. He bore the marks of trouble and anxiety. ' His hair was long and gray, and his eyes Hue and keen, althoug judging from ap arauce, he must have been near rec-score an ten. Steve at once decided that this was the father of the maiden whom he had rescued; and the young man was favorably impressed, even at that distanca. This was not the case, however, as regards the one who rode next him; for, at the first glance, the scout knew that he was looking n n a cowardly. selfish, and unprinci led man. ore than this, he felt convinced, t ough he could not home explained wh or wherefore,. that this dark-visaged, foppis 4001mm rson was destined to be connected with his li a and! hoges in no favorable or leasaut manner. 9 was attired in ric and fashionable gar- ments, includiu a shirt of immaculate linen, and a hunting- shot of blue-black velvet. A ‘ h'iled’ shirt, at that time. was seldom seen, even in the towns of West Texas. . A black goatee and mustache. which were carefully dressed and pointed. gave this person., :53“! a Freuchy look, which his complexion. iv to. . ms \was worn long, but was straight g; Id id. B- P. we 83' rn :he ith ar- e: :lue ice, her the l at. mile hrs ring W, not vW;endIamveryeoufidantthat,ifhedoes . Stamjeede Steve. 5 The third horseman was a roughly appareled teamster. As they galloped to the point where the young scout sat his horse in waiting, the latter politely touched the brim of his sombrero, in salutation. All halted suddenly gazing at Steve in some surprise; the foreign-looking individual, with a ‘deCidedly supercilious stare. _ The scout took not the slightest notice of this man, but addressed himself to the elderly gen- tleman. “ I believe I have the honor of speaking to Mr Dale?" he said, with an inquiring expression of face. “ Mister Dale?” said the dark-faced stranger, sneeringly, not giving time for that gentleman to reply; “if on would like to know this per- son’s business’ —-turnin to the old gentleman— “ I’ll introduce cu. his, sir,”—to Steve—“ is Major Duncan ale, a planter, and who is well known in Texas. “ Now, who‘ are you, and what is your busi- ness?" “ y business is not with you, sir; at least, not a present, however it may be r orded that our affairs are to be somewhat mixe hereafter. “ But, as to that, I do not know, neither do I care.” This was said in a tone that smacked slightly of contempt, and in the most off-hand manner. The swarthy face became darker, and the black 9 'es fairly snapped, seeming to emit sparks 0 fire. Steve, however, took not the sli htest notice of this, but again spoke to the old p anter. “ g your pardon, Major Dale,” he said, in an apologetic manner, “ for having failed, through ignorance, to address_ you correctly. However, titles amount to but little in this part of Texas. “I am anxious, major, to relieve your mind in regard to [our dau hter, sol Will at once announce the act that came to your camp in search of Miss Dale’s runaway horse.” “You have? Oh, thank you!" exclaimed the old man with much feeling. “ Where is my child, and how came she to be thrown from her mustang?" Upon the first mention of Dora’s name by the young scout, jealous fury shot from the black eyes of the gloomy-visaged stranger, and his teeth fairl ground with the intensity of his fiendish emot cm. The teamster was looking earnestl at Steve, as if striving to recall where be h seen him. “M or Dale, yourdau ter is safe and un- harme . She is waiting or her horse, about a half-mile from the river, on the opposite side from this point. “She had dismounted to pluck some flowers, and the mustang ran to camp. " “ You have relieved my mind greatly," said the major. “ To whom do I owe hi thanks for this kind attention to my daughter ’ “ If it is my name you wish to know, Major Dale, it is Stephen Speed, at your service. ” " Happy to form your acquaintance, Mr. Speed, said the old gentleman warmly, as he spurred his horse forward and extended his hand, which was grasped by the young man in a hearty shake. Then the major, in a somewhat embarrassed manner, turned to his swarthy companion, say- in : a Allzw me to make you acquainted with my friend, Count Biron Broquier, Mr. Speed. Mr. Speed, Count Broquier!” Steve merely glanced tOward the count, and nodded his head carelessly, even this slight acknowledgment of the introduction being ae- corded him entirely out of consideration for the old ms 'or. The atter {gazed at the count in the utmost wonder, hav ng caught ht of the fiendishly- contorted countenance of ll companion, “ Your friend, the count, appears to be un- well. I should judge that h. m a touch of the cholera, his appearance. Perhaps it would be better him to remain in camp, win]. we hasten to relieve Miss Dale from her lonely position." Thus spoke Stampede Steve. It was evident to the youn man. 88 11° glanced out of the corner of hs eye at the count. til“ “ID was only enabled to con- trgi his "8° by Iv mostpowerful effort of the w . In a scornful manner he asked: “Are you a, physician, air, that you thus (tiiagpyose a man I case by a mere glance into his ace - The young 800"” "and" no reply. but dashed alon by the side of the ma , who h“ pur- y spurred forward as seemed to fear that the count would further insult Steve. "1 beg, Mr. S . that you will not mind :1 friend,” sai Major Dale, in a low tone, “ e is not accustomed to Texas ways, having but recently arrived from New Orleans. 3.. old“, lama; say, he is naturally of a morose on. ‘ :I be! leave to remark,” returned the young Icont, ‘ that had it not been for my respect for 101:, major, I-should have taken the stiffness 9‘“ of is mustache and Mu aw not draw in his orns, figuratively speaking, in the way of lookshand lip, I shall be under the painful necessity of putting him to soak in some convenient bog-hole, and perhaps may have to perforate his carcass a little, previous to the im- mersion.” The major stared into the face of the young man, in a pleading manner, and with some sli ht gesture of caution. t was clear that the old gentleman feared anything in the shape of an unpleasantness, and was desirous, above all things, to conciliate his ill-favored guest. CHAPTER VI. A 'rrann investments. ,11' had been plainly evident to both Steve Speed and Major Dale, that Count Broquier had begun to see that he had met a far differ- ent person in the young scout, from what he had supposed. His insultin words and looks had been met with utter di. in; in fact, they had seemed to amuse, rather than irritate the young man, and this maddened the count almost beyond endur- ance. Yet, he was forced to “ grin and bear it;” his grin, however, bein more like the vengeful ex- pression of a mur erous Apache brave, than an ht else. 'Fhe teamster, Bob Barr, although chiefly in- terested in ins -ting the young soout, had at last detected t e manifestations of enmity that lvlv'ere so plainly shown by the count toward im. Various were the thoughts which flashed through the mind of our hero, in regard to the so- called count, and conclusions as quickly were formed, bassd upon the words and manner of the man in question. As at his first glance, Steve decided that the swarthy individual was a deceptive and unprincipled villain; and he was not a little surprised at meeting such a questionable character, in the company, and as the avowed friend of Dora Dale’s father. , This aunt-prise and wonder became still stron er, ter hearing the count speak, and show is ungentlernanly character so plainly. It was beyond the power of Steve’s compre- hension, how such an intelligent, and evidently honorable man as Major Dale could fail tode- tect the real character of the man, with whom he appeared to be intimately associated. The; count could be read like a book. His very life was imprinted upon his face; and only to look upon it created strong aversion. Then his words were in consonance with his looks. Steve decided at once, that the man was not what he pretended tube. The name of Count Biron Broquier, he felt, was assumed. There was a mystery connected'with the ac- quaintance and a rent friendship between this man and Mar)? Dale. That was very ap parent. The me or had shown evidences, and strong ones at t t, that he did not wish Steve to notice the insulting words and manner of the count. Indeed. it almost appeared that the old man stood in fear of his swarthy associate; that the latter had some power over him. Reasoning upon all that he had observed, the young soon had arrived at the following con- clusions: First, that the self-styled count was simpl a disreputable scimp, w had, in some a er- handed manner, otten the major in his power. Secondly, that e count pro to use all his power and influence upon Major Dale, for a certain purpose. This purpose, or object, was plain to the young man, and was of deep inter- est to him; so deep. indeed, that it caused Steve the utmost indignation, when he made up his mind as to the character of the same. Stephen Speed knew nothing of the pecuniary affairs of Major Dale; but appearances indica- ted that the old planter was well of! in this world’s goods. b’l‘lx major was wealthy, and had an only c l The object of the count was plain: it was to marry Dora Dale, and thus get possession of the wealth of the old major. Perhaps he, in his way, loved Dora and had determined, if no other way promised success, that he would lot to lace the father in such a position that e would) be ruined. did he not sacrifice his da hter. Steve believed that the count had alrea y to a certain exten proceed- ed in carryingfiput this lot. Possib this re- moval to the est was cluded in the villain- ous Ian toward the accomplishment of this man 3 object. The young scout, who had, in the early morn- ing, been free and independent. with neither care nor concern for his own future, or that of others, found himself now so mix u in a labyrinth of other people’s affairs, at e was quite astounded. « But it required only a little reflection to de- cide as to his future course. He had Dora Dal _ He would, never ham, lose sight of her. He had saved her from death, and he would new prevent her from being sacrificed tothis t 'v..,~i:j‘ ., r- ' ‘ \ infamous scoundrel, whom he believed to be a slimy, (poisonous snake, whose head should be crushe . Stedphen Speed made a mental vow that he woul crush the snake himself. It caused a shudder of horror, to even think of the possibility of Dora’s being linked for life to such a cowardly car as this se f—styled count. But, first, he must find out the nature of the influence which he seemed to exercise over the old major. Once this was done, he believed that all would be plain sailing. He would, therefore, now set out to “ trail ” the count. . If he could win Dora Dale, the young scout felt that he would be the happiest man on earth. Thus it will be seen that our young friend found ample food for thought; but, as has been mentioned, it octupied only a few flitting mo- ments for him to form his deductions as to the state of affairs with those whom he had so sud- denly and unexpectedly become associated. The count rode in the rear with the teamster, in sullen silence, a fact which proved plainly that he had been cowed by the manner and words of Steve. He was one of those insolent beings who as- sume the airs of One who seeks a difficulty, and cares not for the consequences; but this was all bravado. ' H0wever, Stampede Steve would never have gained the reputation of a skilled scout, had he not been gifted with keen perception; and be well knew that the brain of the count had been as busy as his Own—that the swarthy villain was otting against him, and would, at any favors le time. assassinate him without hesitation, if his own life was not in danger from such an attempt. Count Biron Broquier was an unscrupulous villain—so the scout decided—but the latter rather enjfiyed the situation in which he found himself. e would give the swarthy scoundrel “ plent of rope,” and. without doubt, the count would ug himself, figuratively speaking, in a little time. Major Dale seemed to be troubled in mind by the conduct of his gloomy-looking friend, and the possibility of the latter and the young Texan becoming engaged in a personal encoun— r. Even Dora was for the time forgotten. The major, however, was not aware of the danger from which his daughter had escaped. But at length he aroused himself and asked: “ What were the circumstances, Mr. Speed, connected with side?" . “No, major; I was goin down-stream. The mustlziag had run uite a istance before I dis- cove our dang ter. Have you been long encam at this ford, may I ask?” , “ We have been here since esterday at noon. The mules needed rest, and thought it best to remain for a day or twO. Do you reside in this vicinity f" ‘ The scout laughed merrily as he answered: “ I have no particular local habitation, major. I an "a prairie memes—ranger, scout, and e. gu“ Indeed! Why, it is quite fortunate that we met-that is, if you are open for an cowe- ment. I wish to secure a guide—one who is well acquainted withthe lay of the land on the Leona, a branch of the Rio Frio. Have you ever scouted in that direction?” _ “ Very uently, major.” Steve coul hard y express his gratification. Here was an opening, which promised bill I the extreme pleasure of being near to, in fact in the company of, Dora Dale. He was thankful that the count was too far in the rear, to distin‘ guish the words of the old planter. Did that swarthy villain know of the ma '- intention to engage Steve as guide, he 13 did his power extend that far, prevent the o gentleman from making any such arranglegnent. He made no immediate reply; and, at ngth, Major Dale again inquired: “ Are you at liberty at present, Mr. Speed!” “ I am, sir!” “ And willing to guide in train!" “ Certainly, major; but, give {on fair warn- . ing that the Indians are in the ha alon it of raiding the Rio Frio and the Leona.” was the response; “all I ask, is time to erect strong log dwellings. I have men enough with me to defend our proposed settlement. They are all well armed, and I have abundance of ammunition. I have decided to invest in the stock business, but shall not purchase any breed cattle until we are well settled.” “ Then you are determined to locate on the Leona?” “That is my objective point, Mr. Speed. I have reliable information in regard tilts being an excellent grazing section. that hecasel' “It is; except in times of great drought, when stock would have to be driven to the northwestward, or die. However, it has now been several year-since there has been a protrac- ted dry term.” “ Then, as you are at liberty, and willing to i ' , , \ a ' our meeting my da hteri- Were you trave ing up the river, on t'ng‘sonth . “ apprehend no danger from the red-men," fl ‘ ‘ I 6 .K\ Stampede Steve. engage as guide for me, we will, from this on, consider you as one of our family. “ We need not for the present, speak of the pecuniary part of the arrangement. I want you, and what it costs is of no consequence to me. ’ “Money matters are of little moment to my- self, Major Dale. I do not trouble myself very much With money, or the thoughts of it. I am to consider myselfin your employ, and that ends “ Iapprehend, however, that Count Broquier will not be particularly pleased at your having engaged me." n uneasy expression Came into the major’s face, and he glanced behind him, as he replied: “I declare, I entirely forgot him! You and the count seem to have formed an antipathy to each other at sight. I do not understand it.” “Major Dale," said the young man, gazing steadily at the planter, “ I do not think it ought to be beyond your understanding. The charac- ter of this noble personage, whom I find in your company, is stamped plainly upon his face. “ He knew that I read him at a glance, and hence his hatred of myself. “It is not my business to know or care, why he is with you, but I Venture to assert that you will yet curse the day you permitted him to gr your hand in friendship! “ ark my words, Major Dale; 1 am to go with your train, and I avow that my great ob- ject will be to defeat that villain, and defend you from his designs—I can see through him, and it is a mystery to me, that I find him in your company. “Do not tax yourself to reply, but bear in mind that/I am your friend, and will yet sever the knot that binds you and yours to.Count Biron Broquier!” The old gentleman had a most bewildered look while the scout was speaking: but, as Steve ended his remarks, he asked, in a hoarse voice: “ Are you a magician, Mr. Speed! You amaze, astonish me! What can you mean?" “ It requires only the most ordinary percep- tion to arrive at the conclusion I have formed ” said the youn man. “ But, we are approac - ing the spot w are I left your daughter—among those oaks.” With these ’words, the secut galloped forward. The maiden, he had rescue'l, was nowhere to be seen! Directlg up to the dead steer plunged the horse of love; the latter at once discovering that the slain animal had been hacked, and the tongue out out. Instantly the young scout recognized the fact, that the pursuers of the steer had been to the carcass. Where were they? ' Who were they? ' Where was Dora! Peering into the ades, Steve Speed called out wild y the mi g irl’s name. As may he an , ajor Dale was startled at this discovery. He galloped up to the scout, the count and the teamster close in the rear. Soon Steve recovered himself, and springing Rom his horse, he began reading the “sign” at, and around the carcass. “B m hepes of Heaven, I’ll save her! I’ll tear {or from the villains, and hash them into wig-strings! I swear it; I’ll rescue Dora . . A mockigg, triumphant laugh sounded on the air follow by an ejaculation of jealous fury. Steve, the Scout, realized his imprudence. The laugh came from Count Biron Broquier. Another followed from the same source, but It was quickly smothered. How! B the blood-reeking tongue of the dead steer, wh ch struck the count directly, and with great : force, across the mouth and face! . Major Dale, and Bob Barr, the teamster, stood, silent and dumfounded. The tongue had been buried, in fury, but with deliberation, by Steve, the Scout! CHAPTER VI. A RECOGNITION. Ar the very instant that the young scout hurled the blood-smeared tongue in the face of the count, he jerked his revolver, and presented it at the swarthy insulter, vellin out: “Up with your hands, Count r ier, or I’ll let the black blood out of your vile cart! Up hands, I say, or I’ll bore you!” The count, with a fierce curse. had attempted when struck to draw his pistol: but the words of Steve were too plain and emphatic to be dis- obe ed. His hands went um on the instant, wh e his dark face turned as n in hue. “ Hold, Mr. Speed!” exclaimed the major; “ would you shoot the man, and for what? Where, in Heaven’s name, is my daughteril What does all this mean?” ging his spurs, the count forced his horse to bound forward, placin the major between him and the scout. Then a yelled: “It is a your cunning plot, Major Dale! Are you blind! That rufiian and his fellows have abducted Miss Dale. He is an outlaw!” No sooner had he uttered these words, than the count lowered his hands, clutched his bridle, drove spurs. and dashed toward the river; but as he turned to enter the cow-path, the crack of a revolver sounded, and Count Biron Broquier, together with his horse, fell to the earth. “ What does all this mean?" cried out the old ma'or. “ Have you killed the count?" - he young scout stood erect, his eyes blazing with fury. He gazed neither to the right nor left. He seemed not to hear the major’s words. A change, at once. came over the old planter. Siraightenin himself, he drew his revolver, and leveled it directly at Steve’s breast; say- ing, in a determined voice: “Explain your words and acts, Mr. Speed, at once! Where is my daughter! “ Have you shot the count for having exposed your true character! Speak! I demand an ex- planation, and that at the muzzle of my revol- ver! I have the drop on you i” The teamster, who had been dumfounded at these strange and rapidly changing occurrences, but who had shown signs of pleasure on hear- ing, for the first time, the prairie cognomen of the oung scout, now spurred forward, and ex- ten ed his hand, saying: “Put her thar, pard! Why didn‘t yer say Ver war Stampede Steve afore? Dog-goned of I didn’t know. dead sure, I’d see’d yer some- whar, but I c‘u’dn’t ’zactly tell whar! “Put up yer shooter, major! This hyer air ther squarest, whitest perrarer pilgrim yer ever run ag in’. I’m a bettin’ on hit! “ Sieve, I’m know’d es Bob Barr. I useter drive on ther Pass route, fer George Giddin’s. Reckon yer mought ha’ heerd tell 0’ my bein’ ther only cuss what ’sca ther ’Paches, outen a hull hearse full, ’bove ort Clarkflast ear?” Steve mechanically took the proflere hand, and replied in a friendly tone: “Thank‘ you. Bob, for your recommend! Yes, I know of you, and that you are true blue.” “ But stand aside! ‘I am not afraid of abrave man, but only of a coward, like the count yonder." Bob urged his horse forward, but there stood the major, bis revolver still leveled at the scout’s breast ; although his eyes were fixed upon the teamster in no little surprise and wonder. “ Major Dale,” said Steve, in a ringing but friendly voice, as be folded his arms and azed fixedly into the face of the old planter ; “ 'sten to me a moment! I have but little time to spare, for I have sworn to rescue your daugh- tor! “ It is not strange that you are uzzled and almost beside yourself with anguis . Neither is it to be wondered at that you are suspicious when you find that Miss Dale is not at the place where I asserted that I had left her. “ But it is strange, after I have spoken as I have to you in regard to that self-styled count, that you should place any confidence in his words. “ I have not killed the scoundrel, but I e ct to be forced to do so in the near future. a is a veritable snake in the grass, and is now in an appropriate ition. I will we or anything you may wis to stake that he is- toning now to every word I speak. “ He does not dare rise from the ground, last my next shot be aimed at his heart. But he is safe until I unmask his villany and ex- pOse his true character to you. “ Bob Barr has said in our hearing that he knows me as an honorabe man. I believe I bear that reputation through West Texas, and 'I have some celebrit as a not unskilled scout. Yet you accuse me 0 being a murderer, and of defamln one who you know in your can- not be efamed; who is solow and dastardly that no words can explain or define the depths of his infamous and vile character. . “ But we have had enon h of this. He is not worthy of so many wo I. Now, I will ex- plain what seemsso strange to you. “ I told you that Miss Dale’s orse ran away from her. That was true: but the animal had been fri btened by the maddened steer which you see and before you. I t a bullet through that beast’s heart, at in a nick of time to save your daughter s life. She fell senseless be- tween the horns of the brute as it sunk at her feet. “ I carried her to the motto, and when she re- vived. s rung upon my horse to go in search of hers. bi din her remain here until my return. “ I trail the horse to a point near our camp, and meeting you with the anima , re- turned with yon, to find your daughter gone. “ Since I have been absent, the captors of the steer have been here. I perceive that they re- covered their lasso, and t on cut out the tongue and some meat to convey awa . At the moment they were about to start tis evident that they out have discovered Miss Dale, and, diropping he tongue, hastened to take her capr- t ve. “There is no ronchero in this region, who uses a brand like the one upon this steer. “Such a brand is not recorded, I’ll bet my life! There were two men here, and the were cattle-thieves, outlaws, and have cart your daughter away! . U ' . '. .‘i “ If I do not trail them, and rescue her within three days’ time, she is lost forever! “ She will he carried across the Rio Grande, to a doom for worse than death. “Major Dale, if you will examine the steer and the trail, they will rove my assertions. I go now, to rescue Miss ora, or die in the at- tempt. “ f you ever see me again, you will see your dau hter also.” C utching the neck-rope of his horse, Steve- nodded familiarly to Bob, and rode ofl rapidly on the trail of the abductors of Dora. The old lanter stood Silent, almost overcome with ming ed shame and self-condemation. Very impressive had been the attitude of the young scout. None, who heard and saw him, could doubt the truth of what he. said. At last, with an effort, the major called out: “ Hold, Mr. Speed! Hold l” The scout halted, but reluctantly. The old man rushed to his side, and grasped his hand, calling out, wildly: “Forgive me,_ Mr. Speed! I was, and am, nearly igsgne With anguish and apprehension. In Heav ’5 name, what am I to do? It is I, and my men, who should follow those mis- creants. “ If you will guide us on the trail, you shall have any reward you ask. I am convinced that you are an honest, and a brave man.” Grasping the proffered hand, Steve replied: “ Major Dale, I hold no ill-feelings against on. God knows (you have had enough to un- valance your min . I go On this trail, but not for pay; and I go alone. Others would not only impede my movements, but would render a res- cue more doubtful. “Silent and stealthy, Indian-like, I shall fol- low the villains, and save your child. Have no fears re arding my success, and do not detain meafurt er. Bob would have volunteered, did he ot know that I am better alone. Trust me, Major Dale! . “ Return to camp, and beware of Count Biron Broquier. Farewell! I shall return with your daughter—you may depend upon me I” W'ithout waiting a rep] from the old planter, Steve Speed dashed on, a ong the trail. The major staggered like a drunken man, his eyes blinded by tears, as he returned to the car- cass of the steer. Bob Barr, having dismounted to examine the dead brute, exclaimed: “Major, come hyer, an’ yer kin see ‘sign ’ what talks es plain es Stampede Steve. kn0wed ever word he slung war Gospill truth, but I want yer ter see ther roofs. “ Thar’s whar Steve’s lead red ther bleed» box 0’ ther critter. an’ hyer’s whar Miss Dora stood pickin’ lee. Then yer kin see ther huff-prints 0’ her or'nary scum what lmnted with her, an’ whar they slashed ofl ther meat. Ther sign, all roun’, air plain es A, B, C. “ Dang ef I doesn’t feel for yer, mutton But I’m afferdavyin’ thet Steve ’ll fotch er leetle gal in, all‘ XXX an’ peart. I wouldn’t be in ther skin 0’ ther hellyuns what’s-tuck her for ther hull 0’ Texas. Stampede Steve air a ragin’mror when he gits good an’mld bet yer bestsst team 0’ mules! He s'thetca-way u; now lreckon. “Yer see’d him when he slung ther tongue at ther count, who air ’bout es snaky es a Greaser —dang me at he ain’tl—an’ long as $1 “in. or outfit he’s gut ter keep his jaw b led, Eli-dl’ll take ther stiflenin’ outen him, es Steve- 1 “ Whar in ther dickens -air he? I reckon he’s ’shamed ter show up. But that can’t be so; he‘s gut more check nOr a lie rhinoser-hoss. “ Major, don’t worritate erself. Hit ’11 all come out hunk with Miss ra. Ef I warn‘t dead sure on hit, I’d skute 0n ther trail my— self. But I knows Stevo’ll git away with ther hell uns.” ajor Dale had by this time soon plainly the proofs of the words of Siam e ve. He also perceived the horse of the court guigtly feeding, and was llll'pl'iQd at thr if t. The words of the teamster gave him much ho and comfort. iii}: where was the count? Why bad the old lanter s ken as he did to Steve, in regard to a hug t is mm It was because he had seen the head of Bree quier peering above the grass, and he knew tha‘t the latter was not only unharmed but lis- ten nil- Had the count been killed, would Major Dale have regretted the fact? He would not! Why, then, did he fear to have the young scout resent the words of the insulting drel, or fight him, when it was he stood in fear and dread of h guest? Was it because the count in ht not be slain outright, and, while dying, in ght revul that which the old planter feared to have known—- that. namely, which had placed him in the power of Br uieri We s all see hereafter. Bob Barr and the major proceeded at once tOward the count‘s horse. The grass 'was much transpled. ' Stampede Steve. 7 A little stream of blood flOvred from a bullet- hole in the muscular portion of the horse’s neck, near the roots of the mane. The rider was no- where to be seen. Both Major Dale and the teamster called to the count in loud voices. There was no response. Bob pointed to a clearly-defined trail through the tal grass, which had the appearance of having been made by a man creeping on all- fours. This trail pointed down the river. parallel with the same. Count Biron Broquier was gone! Both the old lanter and Bob turned about, and gazed towar the south. Afar off. at times, they caught a view of Steve, the Scout. between the gigantic oaks. He was following the trail, rapidly. And that trail also led down the river, and parallel with it. “Skate back ter camp. major, an’ ‘tend ter things! Thar’s nasty biz ahead. an’ Bob Barr‘s gloin’ ter prospect arter crookedness, on ther s y. Before Major Dale could find tongue, in his demoralized state, to remonstrate, or ask an ex- planation, the teamster was galloping east, down-stream, and had soon disppeared in a dense matte. . With a groan of despair and anguish, the old man dashed along the cow-path, toward the ford, and his camp, leading the horse of the missing Count Biron Broquier. CHAPTER VIl. ammo TO THE mo (manna. THE two miscreants, who had abducted poor Dora Dale, felt convinced that their trail would soon be followed. They rode side by side, at a gallop, after reaching. as they considered, a safe distance from the spot where they had captured the maiden. Then they turned eastward. keeping about the middle of the oak belt, and traveling parallel with the Rio Guadalupe. Lije, as soon as a favorable point was reached with the assistance of Bill, bound and gagged the senseless girl; knowing that a scream from her might be the means of condemning them to death, at the end of a lariat. “Dang my hide, Bill, ef we—’uns hain‘t gut a gvood call ter keep shady. arter this hiyer scrape? har’n ther devnl, shell we p’int fer ’ “ Satan tortur’ ms, Lije, ef yer ain‘t kerrect! We can’t leave timber—thet air a dead sure thing—er we’ll git skuped in; thet air, ontil dark comes. Et night we kin glide Grandee. ways, strikln’ ther an Antone river an’ lay over thar ter~morrer. Et I ain’t mistooken, thar’s ranchers, er somebuddy else, foun’ et she’s tuck, by this time.” . “Spur up, then! We’ll keep straight ahead for a few mile, an"tben strike fer ther big tim- her 0’ ther Guadalupe.” " We must ’low our critters free range, an’ run chances then.” “Nary time, es long es Lasso Lije hes any sense left! We’ll bobble ther nags in some ‘open’, ’mong ther underbrush, an then climb up, with ther gal, some distance from ther crit. m “Thar‘s moss au’ vines, thick enough ter hidea cotton-tailed rabbit; an’ thet’s ther sort of a Spot whar we must locate purty soon.” “Dang ef yer head ain’t level esusual, Lije! Thet’s ther p’ogramme, dead sure. I ’lows ter gakevt’ny bags up with me, fer I’m hungry es a ar. “ Gut any whisk‘ left, Big." “’Bout half a bottle. n’ thet ’minds me, I’m dead sot fer a drink. My teeth air all on edge With hankerin’ fer somethin’. Glad yer spoke of hit. Hyer, take a shifter!" Bill passed. the bottle to his , who drank, after roposmg, as 8'1 aPPM? be sentiment: “ yers hepin’ we’ll ma e a heap outen this ventur’l l opine We'll cl’ar a pile, ef we gits ther I ’cross ther Grandee.” Bil echoed this. continuing, as be replaced the bottle in his saddle—bags: “Ye’re mighty right. pard: an’ hit’s ’bout time we-’uns scoo in some rhino. an’ bed a show tor buck et monte. This byer gal air jist ther card fer some high-fly Casti ian cuss, with plODtV 0’ rocks; an’ we'll strike him, yer betl" " o more chin!” cautioned Lije: "Come on! We mus‘n’t fergit thet thar‘s mos‘ likely some howlin’ mad cusses on our trail. Keep a flyin’. .n' gi’n yer peepersaextr job 0’ gazin’ ahead!" Both spurred deep. an with snorts of pain, the horses bounded headlong amid the oaks; or Dora soon recovmnz her consciousness, to terrified and tOI'Wl'ed with dread despair. at finding herself in the power of the repulsiVe- looking ruflians, bound and gagged, and being borne, she knew not whither. She strovs to shnek. to give vent to the anguish, and misery. and horror, that ruled her; but, only a choking, gurgling sound es- caped her. The r girl gave herself up for lost. She Eggw not where she WM. in what direc- tion she was being conveyed. or what length or time had passed since she had been captured. ~ w near past had at once, been brought very plainly and forcibly to mind, upon her having first regained Consciousness. The form and face of Stephen Speed had been indelibly imprinted upon her mind; his words echoed in her ears, and her heart overflowed with love and gratitude to him. She was con- fident that the young scout would do all in his power toward her rescue; but, deeply she re- gretted that she had not called him back. She felt that Stephen would blame himself for having left her alone, but this would spur him on to her rescue; he would follow the trail. regardless of any other consideration. Then she began to feel anxious in regard to the reception the scout would, in all probability, receive at her father’s cam p. The latter, she knew, would be grateful to him beyond measure; but there was one at the camp, the mere thou ht of whom made her shudder, who would anything but pleased when he knew that this handsome young man had earned her friendship and gratitude. Then came the bitterest thought of all. When Stephen should guide her father and others to the moile, expecting to meet her, and she not there! They might think the young stranger in league with the abductors; ay, the prime mover in the plot. From the fact that he had gone to the camp after her horse, such a suspicion ought not to be for a moment entertained; yet, all the same, they might fail to take, in their excite- ment, any reasonable view of the matter. The man, of whom she had just thought, would exult in accusing Stephen Speed. And the thought of this man was revolting. Dora felt that she had far rather be in the power of the miscreants, who now held her at their mercy, than 'to be alone and unprotected with her evil genius; the man whose power over her father was a mystery she had in vain striven to fathom, even when she begged :er parent, upon her knees, for an.explana- ion. But the scout, she reflected, appeared to be well able to take care of himself. He could easily prove the falsity of any so- cusation as to his complicity with her ab— ducizion, and he wouid insist on following her trai . The headlong speed at which her captors traveled, hearing her at every bound further and further from all she loved, toward a fate of which she dared not even think—this, too, flashed through her mind: would it not be im- possible for an one to follow, except slowly? And if so, woul not her captors have an o por- tunity to proceed such a distance as woul foil every attempt at a rescue! Such reasoningn were not calculated to lessen the poor girl’s anxiety and terror. A ter a time the two wretches turned ab— ruptly, and Dora soon realized that she was wiithin the dense, towering timber of the Guad- a upe. She knew then that she could not have re- mained long unconscious, and was somewhat relieved in mind at the thought;.hut soon she was again plunged into hopeless despair by the assertions of the miscreants to each other that the keenest-eyed- Apache brave could noti‘ detect the hiding-place they proposed to see . Very soon she was laid blindfolded within a thicket, and then she heard the pair de- part wtth the horses, and knew that they were now about to take such precautions as would cause it to be impossible for any trailer to dis- c0ver them. Poor Dora was almost distracted. How long she lay thus, she could not tell; but she was further tortured by havin a rope secured beneath her arms around filer body, and then home from her resting-place some distance, when she was again placed on the earth. ' This was only for a few moments. Then she was held high, in the arms of one of the das- tards, while the other, by the rope that had been attached to her body, drew her up in the air. She could hear the low Worden of one to the other, and the sounds of their boots on the limbs of the trees, as they climbed upward; she hanging, she knew not how high from the earth, at times stationary, but soon to be drawn upward again, until she became faint with pain and fright, ex cti'ng each moment to fall down- ward. and be ashed to death on the ground. or