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Published 13qu Cliead/p (7'. 37/171 DIS. (I )11 1277's}; (27's, Ten Cent“ Copy,
Wuduuduy- 9:} WILLIAM STREET, N. Y.. July :58. 1886. 85-00 ‘ Y0“-

 

HUNTED BOWEN A WOMAN,

BY \VM. H. MANNING,

AUTHOR OF “ WILD DICK TI'RPIN.“ “ 'rIIE GOLD
DRAGON,” “COLORADO Rum," ETC.

CHAPTER I.
WHAT WAS THE MOTIVE?

THE bravest of men ofttn got into tronhle.
and it wax‘ no discredit to Edgar Hendrickson
that, beset by supt-I'it‘nr numbers. he was knm-k-
ed senseless and Plflt‘wi (It, the turn-y of his ene-
mies. hut nvitho-r ho 1101‘ they suspet-ted the
strange. Startling scones whth “9n- dostined to
follow this assault. but which would not other
wise have occurred.

He was a detectivm a clear-headed. keen~witr
ted man uf a practical turn of mind, devotul to
hi< calling. and given to little thinking about
otlr'r math-N. 7

He had lawn on his way to the prison of the
State where Iw lived. to see a convict. when he

‘ ‘1 was not upon by trumps and left senselesg.
r . . m..- “‘nen hp recuwrod he was securely bound to
GASPED, “ FLORALICE mural” , tree, gagged and helpless. and, us he could do

 

 

 

  

‘to him.

.audible wor s from the convict.

an.

‘2

Baldy.

Old

 

nothing else, he stood there and gazml angrily
at vacancy. Appearances indicated that he
would have a chance to stand and gaze all
ni ht.

e was less than a hundred yards from the
rison, but the gag prevented a cry for help.
e. could only remain in the little grove on the

river-bank and await the end.

Suddenly he heard something of great interest
All had been very quiet about his
place of captivity, but the sound of voices broke
the stillness all at once, and two men appeared
in the grove.

Hendrickson could see them distinctly, though ‘

they did not see him. The bright moonlight
shone full upon them, while he was in deep
shadow.

At first he had been on the point of trying to
make his presence known by such guttural
sounds as he could make, but, closer view caused

, him to pause in wonder.

One of the two men wore the garments of a
convict.

The detective could hardly believe the evi-
dence of his own eyes. “'hat was the man do—
ing there? It seemed almost incredible that he
was there. Had he just made his escape? It
was hardly possible. for the prison management
was very careful and stringent.

Further s )eculations were interrupted by
He and his
companion had come to a halt, only a few feet
from the bound detective, and he could plainly
overhear all.

“ Where are the. other garments?” demanded
the convict. “I want to get out of these as
soon as possible.”

“Why do yin hurry me? Am I not doing
on i” the second person as ed.

i” echoed the convict. ‘ You are do-
ing uobly, grandly! Words fail toexpress it,
but in prayers will always be yours. You
don’t w what I have suffered, shut up in
that living grave, but once more I breathe the
free air of heaven. A thousand blessings rest

- upon you!”

His voice grew faint and husky, and he brush-
ed his ha (1 across his face.

' "I sup so every risoner there has his pecu~
liur story,” he add , “ but mine was inexpress—
ibl y sad. Sorrow has been eating my life away;
I suffered more in thinking of others than of
myself. But once more I am free—may God
bless you 1”

He extended his hand, but his companion
drew back.

“ No!” he sharply said.

The convict’s hand fell.

“ I forgot, " he said, humbly. “ You have had
mercy on me, but I still remain a criminal in
the 6 es of the world. I am branded and de-

. You do right to refuse my hand; I do
not blame you.” ‘

“ Nonsense!” brusquely retorted the other.
“ Do on suppose I am sosqueamish as to refuse

our ad for such a reason as that, after hav-
ng unlawfully liberated you from jail?”

- ‘ I supposed that to be your motive.”

“ It was not.”

“May I ask what it was, then?”

There was a touch of real curiosit in the con-
vict’s voice, and he looked more c osely at his
com nion.

Hendrickson, too, was main his eyes,
and; singular suspicion was strugg ing in his
min .

Silence reigned for a moment, and then the

“ 3311"]? made answerl: t t liberty?"

 o ousu so seyoua ‘

“Youysaii; it wgspoliecause I looked like an
honest main and Ivlou pitied me.”

A short, hars laugh came from the un—

"known.
“And did you believe it? Fool! you were
eased

never more mistaken. I re! you because I

hated you; because your insignificant termwas

almost expired, and you would soon be at liber-

ty. I feared you would escape, and I gained

position in the prison to be near and watch

you, to release you exactly as I have done to—
n

ni ht.

fierce and vehement was this strange ad-
dress, and the convict brushed his hand confus-
odly across his face.

‘ I do not understand,” he said.

“Fool!” cried his rescuer, “where are your
0 68? Do you not see that I am in disguise?
Ire you still without a suspicion of the truth—
that I am awoman ?”

The convict started back.

“ A woman!” he exclaimed.

“ Av, a woman, and one you ought well to

'know.”

The speaker quickly removed the man’s hat.
and the moonlight fell laiuly upon her head
and face. Once more he escaped prisoner re-

coiled, and Hendrickson thought his face grew 1

e.
pa“ Great Heavens !” the astonished convict ,

gaswi. “ Floralice Heath!”

“Ha! you know me at last; you are not
wholly blind. You know inc—let me ask if you
now showvr blessings so freely upon me?”

Bitter indeed were the words, and she faced
the man she had helped from prison, her head
thrown back, her eyes flashing, and her air

. an‘grily on the ground.

that of a tragedy queen about to crush an
enemy.

It was a thrilling picture to the man bound to
the tree and he gazed in rapt amazement. He

attention, and could only look in silent wonder.
W'ho and what Were these two persons who had
come so suddenly to his notice?

Now that the disguise was revealed he could
see that the leading speaker, instead of being a
. slender youth, was a tall. finely formed, im )eri-
. ous woman, and he wondered why she hate her
companion so bitterly.

She hated him, yet she had taken him from
prison. What strange motive had led to such an
act?

The convict’s head drooped humbly.

! “I know that you blame me,” he said, in an
i almost inaudible tone, “but I am no , so much
- to blame as you think—”

i Down came the delicate foot on the ground
3 angrily, and she made a fierce gesture.

 

I

had forgotten to make any attempt to attract ‘

 

 

had been serving a two-years’ term for alleged
forger ', but nothing whatever was known about
him or erwise. The forgery had been of a sim-
ple nature, and did not seem to admit of any
chance for a drama in which the woman could
figure, but it had been generally believed that
Gray had been serving under a false name.

Here was the stumbling-block to elaborate iii-
vestigation when immediate capture of the run-
aways had failed—and it did fail, signally—and
Hendrickson, entering upon the case, found no
light whatever.

The so-callcd Horace Ames had come to the
prison as an employee, well recommended, ap-
parently, but investigation showed that every
recommendation was forged. Nobody had sus-
pected that the quiet, obljging “young man”
was a disguised woman, but it was now clear to
all that she had come there with the express
purp0se of releasing Convict Allen Gray.

And for revenge! “'hat revenge? Men are
often consigned to rison heronse some one hates

l “The old tact for lying; the old air of injured , them, but rare, in ced, are the cases where they

I innocence!” she retorted.
| ceives me ? No, for I know you too well. You
seonndrcll you cannot blind me with your
arts.”
“ I have not tried.”
“You look 1wrsistently at the ground. Are
1 you plotting mischief?
l

!

Are. you thinking that i had suddenly,

“ Do you think it de— 1 are released for such a reason.

What had been the motive of the woman, and
what the revenge which she had hoped tosecure?
It was a great mystery, and it grew more so
as the days went by and no clew was gained to
the whereabouts of woman or convict. They
completely disappeared, and

iecauso we are alone here and I am a woman, ; that, too, in the midst of a numerous population
1 that I am in your power! If so, behold and 3 where escape seemed almost impossib c.

i change your nnnd l”

Another moment and a revolver was covering
1 the convict‘s breast, held in her unwavering
, hand. It made Edgar Hendrickson start, but
' the menaced mun calmly folded his arms.

“ Shoot, if you wish!” he steadily said.

“ Shoot! Do you suppose I would thus throw
away my vengeance? Never! Not to save a
kingdom. No, I have other plans, and you are
to go with me.”

‘ Why should I do that?”

“You will learn later. For the present you
have nothing to do except to obey me, and the
order is, Forward! You will march along the
river-bank, and I shall follow with this revolver
covering you. It will be useless for you to try
to run or to overpower me. The revolver will
settle all if you try. Now, march!”

The order was stern and inexorable, but he did
not seem inclined to o‘ ey. His face bore a some-
what sullen expression, and a reply trembled
on his lips, but once more her foot came down

 

Not a word !” she exclaimed. “ You have
had your orders, and you will obey. Wait until
you see what is wanted before you talk. Will
you go?” ‘

She advanced a 32?), giving the revolver a
suggestive click and ter a brief hesitation the
t man turned an walked away in silence. She
i followed, keeping the weapon pointed at him,
i and thus the strange procemion passed from
Ed r Hendrickson’s view.

e had made an effort at the last moment to
attract attention, but neither noticed him.

Once more he was left alone.

He had more to think about than when he first
found himself a prisoner, and mi ht almost have
thought himself the victim of a ream. It was
i a very unusual occurrence that he had been thus
bound to the tree, and still more sin lar that a
convict had been released without m, and so
' strangely released.

The interview he had overheard madea strong
impression on Hendrickson’s mind. Hé had
gamed no clew to the cause of the woman’s ene-
mit but it could have been no common motive
w ch led her to such a step.

Yet, the detective could hardly believe that
the convict was sucha villain as she claimed.
He had been meek and uiet, with the air of a
gentleman, while she h been fierce and vin-
dictive.

“Here will be a case for me to work upon,”
Hendrican thought. “ I must solve the "mys-
tery—ond I Will, cost what it may. “ 80 her
‘ name was Floralice Heath? I must remember

that, for thou h 'the record of the convict will

 

 

Egohably be in at the 'son, her name may
i t tple, only cow. I shal surely take up the
m1 -

And all through the night he thought of it,

growing more interested, and wondering] 
w 0

could be the intentions of the Woman
done such a stran e thin .

He was fortune. in be 135 released at an early
hour by a man who chanc . along, and then ,he
lost no time in hastening to the prison, '

The hour was so early that the place was not

; fairly astir, but he was soon in the presence of
= the superintendent. The latter informed him
that he knew of nothing wrong. Then on-
; drickson told his story, and an immediate inves-
T tigation was made.
It was found that three men were missing—
? Allen Gray, a convict: one of the watchmen, and
a youth who had lately been iven a clerical posi-
' tion in the prison. He had in known as Hor-
ace Ames. -
, Clearly, the watchman had been bribed, and
: then Ames, nh’us the Heath woman, had releas-
ed the prisoner.

Men were at once sen‘ to find the fugitives,

while Heudrickson investigated Gray’s case. He

 

Hendrickson devoted his time energetically to
the case, still feeling that strong interest which
the case had always had for him. He entirely
for ot the wandering vagabonds who had as-
sau ted and tied him to the tree—he cured noth—
ing for them— but the mystery of the night
haunted him. -

Experiean detective that he was, he was
long in [setting a clew. Eight months were
away, an then the superintendent of the prison
received this brief note:

“I am on the track and hope to solve the mystery
but you need not prepare a cell for the escaped con-
vict until you hear from me again. This may be
some time later. EDGAR Hannnrcuon."

And then he, too, disappeared from the sight
of those who knew him, and weeks and months
passed. There were those who looked for letters
from him, but none ever came.

 

CHAPTER II.

'THn nusxv PEOPLE or rm: PYRAHIDS.

BUCK BASIN was a small district in Kansas
which was enemlly termeda valley, though it
was but litt ‘below the general surface, and at
the south the small river, locally known as the
“Arrow,” found easy exit and flowed on to
join the great stream of which it was a tribu-
tary.

Its source was among the P ramid Hills, or
the Pyramids, as they wereusu 1y sim ly called
—a wild locality west of the Basin. orth and
east. after a slight rise, the country stretched
away in those vast prairies for which Kansas is
noted.

Buck Basin village was not large, nor did it
have that thriving air culiar to the majority
of Western towns. mm the time the first
house was built on the bank of the Arrow river,
there had been a curse on the place and it
showed in the houses, the land the aces and
dress of men, women and children—in every

wa . .

With an iron barrier to prosperity, Buck
Basin merely existed, and diamtifloction reigned
throughout the place. Poverty showedralmost
everywhere, though there we” flrfew P991319
who mane, ed to k their head above the tide.

The pub no road w iohpassed through the val-
lev entered at the south, passed directly to the
village, and then followed along the river-bank
tea point near the ' Here a. bridge had
been built, as the most available place, and, be-

vond, the road passed along the base of the
’ mids and so eft’the valle .

The village was nearly ha f a mile from the
hills and the bridge, but one small house stood
near both—in fact, was shaded by the trees that
grew along the base of the Pyramids.

The house had been there for nearlylagear,
but DOVEI‘ had a visitor fii'oesedtigs thres ol , ex-
ce t w an oung pe wen rom motives of

p'osi v{he village people were poor, but
they had enou h natural pride to resent the
presence of the ill people, and the smoke which
curled above the tree-tops was very obnoxious
to them.

The bill , ple were Gypsies. At least, so it

was genera ly supposed, and they had never' '

denied the supposnion. There were plenty of
things to encourage the belief. They had the
black hair and eyes. the swarthy com lexion,
and other characteristics usually associa with
the “ wandering people,” and the head of the
family was a self-styled fortune-teller.

Her name was Hagar Lee, and with her Were
Leah, Nat and Kit—all said to be her children.
They were not such citizens as the village people
liked about them. Thus far they had been
orderly enough, so far as was known; but as
they were poor—unless ap earances were de-
ceptive—and did not work, 0W did the live?

The alleged fortune—telling of the ol woman

 

 

   
 

—«--‘.

\

 

  
   
  
  

 

brought in next to nothing; money was too
scarce in the village to be thrown away.

One evening two iiicn rapped at the door of
the Lee shanty. A Voice bade them cut 1'. and
they obeyed. Dame Lee was the only one of
the family visible, but she was seated at ens»,
smoking a short. black pipe.

The thrc ~ persons thus brought together form-
ed a stron: contrast.

Hagar  was evidently well past her six—
tictli year. and if she had ever been agreeable to
look upon. the day was long since past. She
was greatly cmaciated; nevertheless, the mis-
erahle rags which she Wore covered a form
which was still full of vigor, of almost mascu-
line strength. Ilcr features were irregular, her
skin iicarlv as dark as an Indian’s, and the
meme, gray hair which fell wildly around her
face was no longer becoming; but her eyes wcro
as black as ever, and they gleamed with un-
pleasant brilliant-y.

Of the men, one was a muscular fellow, who
carried his nature faithfully branded on his
face. Such fin-cs arc to be seen in prison. Yet
he had :1 gm nl form, was not positively brutal of
apiwarancc, and there were those who thought
Brian Markoc a tine-looking young man.

In strong contrast to his six feet of bone and
muscle was the effeiiiinate person of his com-
panion. Clarence “'ebber looked out of place
in the \Vest, the land of muscle. Clarence was
weak in many ways, and he might well have
paSsed for one too weak-minded to be danger-
ous, had it not been for the conceited, treach-
erous, crafty look stamped on his face. .

Truly, it was not a. repossessmg appearing
group thus gathered in gar Lee’s shanty.

She motioned her visitors toward chairs, but
VVehber elevated his nose disdainfully and re-
died:

1 “ \Ve will not sit down. We merely came for a
walk, and—to see wh you sent for us. Let us
know at once, for, to frank, I am not pleased
with your house.” '

“ Nor my company, probably,” Hagar coolly

 

added. “Mr. “'ebber is fastidious; he takes
more kindly to scenes like what Edwina Vane’s
wedding will be."

Old Baldy. r

you know Knight and Pray well enough to
misc whether they would he easy with hiiu.’

“ By Jawgcl that‘s the idea!” cried “'cbber.

“But will it work ?” Markoc askcd.

“ W'oi‘k! “'hat‘s to hinder?"

“ There are many chances of failure."

“Egad! you don’t secin to know Knight and
Pray. They are keen as hawks, and never let
up on a man. Once let them mark Evan Con-
rad, and, as the old lady says, he will winter in
prison. Buck Basin knows the style well.”

Markoe was not so sanguine. He saw that the
chances were, at least. evenly against them, and
he. had a more logical way of considering mat-
tcrs. Still, it seemed to be the only thing that
held out any promise whatever, and “’ehbcr
was so enthusiastic over it that he said no more
in op )ositioii.

He ated Evan Conrad bitterly, and was ready

sur‘
9

to embrace any scheme which would trouble :

him. He finally took up the thread of conver-
sation and talked practically with Dame Lee,

while \Vebber fell into deep thought and only ,

aroused when Brian spoke of going. But Web—
ber, instead, went close to the Gypsy.

“ You seem to have a long head,” he said
slowly.

“ \Vhat do you want of me now?” she asked,
peering crafti y into his face.

“ You-a—spoke of Floralice Heath.”

H X'es'” _

“ Do you sell love-powders, or cast charms, or
anything of that sort?”

Hagar laughed sharply.

“ ‘ The course of true love never did run
smooth,’ ” she quoted. “ Now, here is the finest
gentleman in Buck Basin at his wits’ end for a
woman! He has turned from Edwina to Flora-
lice, but still is unhap y. Why?”

“By Jawgel she on’t care a pin for me i”
Webber bluntly acknowledged. “ Conrad’s
friend, that accursed Hendrickson, is pa infi at-
tention to her, and she has e es only or im.
Hendrickson, indeed! A fine ellow for one like
her to look at. He keeps com ny with that
shocking ruffian who calls himself ‘ Game
Chicken, the Reformed Pugili'st.’ Ugh! the mere
thought of it makes me shiver!”

“The devil take her wedding!” VVebbcr ex- 1 'And Clarence did force a. contortion into his
claimed, while Brian Markoe’s face grew dark 1 slender form, as thou h to prove his assertion.

“What have we to do with.

“ A good deal, since you are both disappointed ‘
suitors for her hand,” coolly answered the
Gypsy, still smoking.

" May the 01d Nick Seize you! How dare you
say that! I Wouldn't look at Edwina Vane!”

“ Since when! Just now you are in love with
Miss Floralice Heath. A month ago you loved
Edwina mad] ', but Evan Conrad’s fist beat it
out of you. . 0, you don’t love Edwina now,
but you hate her and Evan. But Brian Markoe
does love her and the approaching wedding does
not lease him.” '

“ *e here,” the big man fiercely cried, “ we
have had enough of this. I won’t have anybody
making free with my name. Do you hear, wo-
man ?”

“Of course I hour, but that does not change
the case. Men. you are fools!”

Webber started, and then stared blankly at ‘
:he old Gypsy, a red flush on his usually pale

ace.

“ See here woman.” he finally cried “ do you
know who Iain? How dare you address we
thus 5”

“ Bah! do not think because you areBi-igadier
Baldy’s step—son that I fear you—or him. But,
come; I did not call you here toquarrelt I wish i
to benefit you. Make it worth my while and I
will see that the marriage don't take lace.”

B th men looked at her sharply, at it was
Maigret; who answered:

“ How can it be prevented?”

“ Hum! Is the knowledge worth five dol-

“ By Jawge! yes." Webber asserted. “ I’ll
give it williiigly. That Conrad struck me, and
’11 give a. gladl to get square with him.
Here’s the money; at are you sure your plan
will work?”
“,If it don’t, you shall have the money back.”
Wehber tossed the bill into her lap.
“ Tell us what to do,“ he said.
, The Gypsy put the money carefully away, and
than rep ‘ -

Jars?”

ied

“Evan Conrad is about to do what no wise
man should do—marry while he is as poor as a
c urch mouse. Like every one else in Buck
Bum. he lives on land owned by a landlord.
He has never laid by a cent and never will until
his 10889 expires and he leaves the accursed
fine?» He Is bound body and soul to Sinclair

bodes, aiifl—B’

“What ms this to do with the marr l”

owled Markoe, impatient] , mge

“Everything. Two of
somewhere near— Knight and Pray. Suppose
you notify them that Conrad has sold his re-
cently-harvestul (TOW. willdeh'ver them secretly
and then run away With all the praceeds, leaving
the landlord to whistle for his mone . Do you
suppose the agents would stand idly by? No,
the would descend upon Conrad, arrest h
and): my word for it, keep him in prison all win-
ter. I think that would stop the wedding, and

n

4

 

i

Dame Lee looked a him in silence, but very

har 1y, for several seconds before she answered.

“ you would like my help with Floralice 1”
she finally said.

“ By J awgel yes—if you can help me.”

“ She would make a good mistress of your
home, and it would please Brigadier Baldy. He
likes her.”

“ Aw, yes, but he don‘t want her in the
famil .”

“ by not?”

“The ridiculous old feller don’t—ah—think I
am worthy of her, by Jawge!”

The faintest possible smile flitted over the
G ’s face but in a moment she was calm and
stOical as before.

“ Beyond a doubt I can help you in this,” she .

slowly said; “ but I must have time.
week in which to form my plans.”

“ Done! I’ll come again then. and if you can
help me, my good woman, I will pay you well.
I just adore that charming Flo ' ice, and I
want to win her awfully. Put your wits to
work, and I’ll y ggu for your trouble.”

And then eb r and Markos took their
leave.

They had barely gone when an inner door of
the room opened and a black-haired, swarthy-
faced woman me out;—Leah Lee.

“'You have card, in dear daughter,” said
Dame Hagar, noddin’g er head. ‘ The young
men were very kind.

“ The fools are in the tra ,” said Leah scorn-
fully. “I knew it won] work well. It is as

to snare a. man as to catchntame fish.

Give me a

easy
Yes, I heard all; I heard them agree readily to 1

your subtle suggestion; and now we have only
to p13: l’o’nand carry ruin and desolation to those
we ~

.—

CHAPTER III.
rm: OLD nnxommn.

EVERY large place has more or less t men,
and no place is so small that it canno boost at
least one man who is t in the estimation of
his follow-citizens. ven Buck Basin, bowed
down and struggling with poverty, was no ex-
ce tion to the rule.

rigadier Baldy was her great man.

His real name was Adam Benmarsb, but half
of Buck Basin was ignorant of the fact. “ Brig-
adier Baldy." or the “ Old Brigadier,” they called
him, and they were titles of honor, respect and

. love.

hodcs‘s agents are '

im, ‘

He had been a soldier in the stormy days of
the war for the Union, and though no one pro-
tended to know whether he left the arm as a
general, captain or private, he rewc their
ideal of a true soldier. And yethe was neither
boisterous norxst'ern, but an erect, military-look-
ing. gentle and kindly old man, who was the idol
of old and young alike.

This was the great man of BuckBasin. but he
‘never suspected the fact. He held no office, and
was almost as poor as the average of the citizens.

A
I

- _VI 7 7 fl _—

In the Battle of the W'ildcrness he had received

a Wound in the hip. and never recovered from it:-

The bullet had not been extracted. and it had
partially disabled him cycr after, though
ll“lii|('l' his movements nor outward looks iiidi<
calm] it.

Bccaiise of this he still drew a pension which,
with his cthcr ctforts and means, enabled him
to live, though he never had a cent tothrow
away.

In what way could this man. old, humble,
gentle and peor. be the great man of the town?
He was its oracle, adviser, friend and. as may
be said, the fat her of all. Feelile Women, strong
men, troubled lovers and grieved children alike
brought their cases to him, confidtnt that he
would sympathize with them, and give them the

I best of advice.

1 Such was Brigadier Baldy.

The greatest cloud on his life was his domestic
1 relations. He had not married wisely. How
i he could have made such a choice was a mys—
tery. Mrs. Bcnmarsh had been a widow with
i one child when he. met her. The child had since
grown to be the Clarence “'ehber already in-
troduced here, while the ex-widow was noted as
the ssessor of a low, mean, trouble-making,
vindictive disposition, and was universally dis-
liked, to use a mild term. '

Early one evening shortly after the scenes be-
fore descrihed Brigadier Baldy was seated
alone in his ouse, in a room adjoining the
kitchen.

He had eaten supper, but the table still wait-
ed—waited for his gmxi-for-nothing nephew,
Clarence W'ebber. The youn man had not ap-
peared in time for the mealfiiut this was not
strange. He spent his time lounging about the
vill e, and was hard to locate.

Brigadier Baldy would have been a rugged

disabling wound be ore mentioned, and he looked
ru ed as it was. He had once been ver mus—
cu er, and his shoulders were broad and vy
and his arms large and strong even in his 0 d
a e. He was as erect as ever, and as he invari-
ably. wore a long coat, there was always a sug-
gestion of the soldier in appearance, as well as
in his carriage.

His face, which was always kept fully shaven,
was broad and full-colored, and no lea destitute
of hirsute growth than the top' of his head. It
was from this baldness he took his sobiiquet
partially, his supply of hair being limited to a

Such was Brigadier Baldy, the great man and
idol of the town.

As he sat alone, uietly smokin , Clarence
Weer entered the (din' -room. 9 was of-
fectionately greeted by . Benmarsh, who,
virago that she was, loved her vicious son
ly; hut Clarence’s manner soon brought a. look
of disgust to the Brigadier’s face.

The door was slightly ajar, making every
word audible, and it needed but a few ‘momeits
to reveal the fact that Clarence had been drink-
infi to excess. .

e took a seat at the table, and his lovin
parent hovered over him, making sure that a
the delicacies of the board were brought to his
notice—an attention which he received with
su reme indifference.

rs. Benmarsh, however, had sometbin on
, her mind which troubled her greatly, she

soon approached the subject ~
i “ Have you been invited to the wedding yet,
' Clarence?”
“What wedding?” growled the young ruf-

n.

“ Why, Edwina and Evan Conrad‘s!”

“ New. I haven’t.”

“ You haven’t! Now, it’s a burning shame—”

“ Oh! don’t you worry,” Clarence interrupted.
“for I am just as well of! as those who are in-
vited. The wedding is  to end in smoke.”

“ What do you mean ’

“ There won’t be a wedding.”

“ No wedding?”

“ That‘s w t I said.”

“ Why, it to take lace this very eveni .”

“They think it is,’ Clarence replied,  a
chuckle, “ but they will get confoundodly left.
Do on suppose I would sit idle and let them
walz into their Eden? Maybe you have forgot
that Evan Conrad struck me in the face. I
haven‘t, and that blow will cost him dear. The
wedding won’t take place.”

“But what is to prevent it!” Mrs. Benmnrsh
more seriously asked, for she knew that her
loved offspring was under the influence of liquor,
and feared that he contemplated some crime.

Clarence usually disdained to confide in his
mother. but the liquor and anticipated revenge
made him communicative. and he laid down
hisiitenife and fork and faced with her a. gloating

sin .

“ I’ll tell you just What istoprevent it. What
isEvan Conrad’s business pesitionl He has a.
long lease of the land he cultivates, and can’t
leave it until the lease runs out, withoutfor-
feiting a lar sum which be thed as a

rantiue to is landlord that he would stay

is term out. What has been the resulth his
labor on the land so far? Has he made a dollar!
No; he is as poor as a church mouse to-day, and

 

l

 

man at sixty-three ears had it not been for the '

thick, gray fringe around the sides and back of ‘
his head.

  
  

 

     
  
  
  
  
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
 
   
  
   
 
 
   
  
 
   
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
  
 
 
 
  
    
   
   
 
   
 
 
   
 
    

  
   
  
   

'not have come at all only for me.

"l'ofg
s fit; all

“iishewholl

 7 . heartatallhewouldtrytotouch
,5.  thatheoouldbee

_ 'liwslked quickly along the street.

alwa will be as long as he has Sinclair Rhodes
as a ndlord.

“Nevertheless, Conrad pro to max-131,)
and Edwina is willing to share is povert .
far, good; what comes next is better. t has
reached the ears of Shaffer Knight one of
Rhodes’s agents, that Conrad is brea the
terms of his contract and swindling the and-
lord. What is the result? I‘ll tell on. The
evenin train will bring Knight to 0a tree, and
from t ere he will take a train for Buck Basin.
He will probably arrive one hour before the
time set for the wedding.-

“The wedding will not take place. Why?
Because before the appointed time Conrad Will
be arrested for swindling, and you can safely
bet that Knight won’t et the ceremony go
on. With a family on his hands Evan Conrad
wouldbe even less able to make a livin , and,
besides, Knight is noted for never letting up
when he gets a sip on a man.

“To-morrow dwina will still be Miss Vane,
and Conrad will be on his way to jail. You can
bet he will not get out this winter, and the
chances are that he will serve five years, or such
a trifle, in prison before he gets a chance to
m ' ’

., _...... - .._.. .. ..

Clarence ended mth a chuckle, while in the
next room Brigadier Baldy sat like one turned
to stone. This revelation touched his very
heart. There was nothing attractive or tender
in his own household, but of all the young people
of Buck Basin he liked Edwina Vane

He was one of the invited guests, if the profil-

te Clarence was not and the discove that
t e ceremony was likely to be interrup star-
tled him.

Not so Mrs. Benmarsh. She hated Evan
Cenrad because he had struck her son, and as
Clarence finished she spitefme observed:

“ It will serve him just right.”
“ I fancy it will.”
“But how did you learn of Knight's inten-

?”

tion

.“Haihai That’s where the oke comes in.
'I‘hewhole affair is m little so eme torepay
Conmd for that blow. ght would never have
know of the marriage, or, that is, would
The cooing
lovers will have me to thank for their set-hack,
though, of course, the matter must be kept

‘ quiet. Hy hand must not show in the game.’

“ I’m lad you’re oing to get uare
with tehn’at brugal Conradl’ngI. Bemna de-

clared. 

But Brigadier Baldy sat b’olt upright and
looked out intot‘ihe darkness. He he heard
news that troubled him sorely. Edwina and her
chosen husband ', were happ , but their [21:56
were about to bed'ashed tot 0 ground. 8 er
Knight was on his we to interrupt the wedding
—to seize 11 Evan nrad.

And the 1d Brigadier felt sure that the young
had not intentionally violated any law.

I ~ . thié wouldhmake little Pgiflereage to

t. e and is partner, y ac as

if: for Rhodes, were a law in t emse ves,

, i and when they accused a person he was usually
"  'a 1

time in getting his liberty again and
had no money to waste on a ong legal

It was time for the “Old Brigadier ” to think
to the wedding, but he did not think of
thou hts were devoted to another sub-
how cool he prevent Shaffer Knight from’
termpting the wedding.
To remonstrate with larence Webber would
his a waste of time' he and his vicious step-son

Con

', “We.

D had longsincetactlyagreedtobeonlypassing
‘ acquaintances, and he knew the folly of tr

 w
:, ,,mind. .

a generous impulse in his dwarf
, des, it was then too late. ,
“ But haflerlKni ht?” thought the Brigadier;
I devo of pity? Is he sure of his
evidence? ill he refuse to‘ give Evan a chance
before arresting him! Evan has been a
tenant and his land is the best cultivated c an:
in Buck Basin. Is Knight so blind to this fee ,
so deaf to pity, that he cannot be moved!”

It was a momentous question ith the old
soldier, for he loved the youngpeoJe devotedly,

He had come to a determination. He would
intercept Knight on his we to the v and
beg him to be merciful. I the agent an

t, and hef t
loquent in such a muse.

Let that be as it might, he would do hh ut-
most to save his young friends.

CHAPTER IV.
as amu. 703 max.

Ham arrived at a conclusion, the Brigadier
at once leftthe house. The lack of sympatllg
between him and the other members of
iamilyhadlongsincebrokenanysystemofoon-
fldence, and on the present occasion he went as
usual, without a word to them.

Inthehallhesecured hisstoutcane andthen
.n... .. . .. first“.

was soon passei , u e con nu
way, anxious to see Shaffer Kni ht aloneand
at a point where he could talk wi him freely.

The night was dark and cloudy and as be
walked on be frequently paused to listen to the
sound of wheels whidi would herald Knight‘s

, and he suddenly arose.

 

 

 

Old Baldy.

applioach, relying more on this than on his eye-

in
§3ut no sound was to be heard, and he con-
tinued his journey until the bridge over Arrow
river was reached. There he paused. It was
the only way to a preach the village, and
seemed the best of a1 places to await the agent’s
coming—there was no missing him there.

For awhile the Brigadier stood erect, but
finally sat down on the small timber which rest-
ed on the ends of the planks forming the bridge,
and was the only para t. The water was
twenty feet below, dark, 8 uggish and deep.

Then began a. period of waiting, the duration
of which he had no means of computing or tell-
ing. He had walked rapidly, for, despite his
troublesome wound, he was still active for one
of his years, but it certainly seemed time for
Kni ht to arrive, if he came on the train and
hires a team at Oaktree. But the minutes wore
away, and he did not come.

At the end of half an hour Brigadier Baldy
began to grow ho ful. Perhaps there really
was no danger. e knew young Webber had
been drinki heavily; what he had said might
have been a nken man’s vain talk. At any
rate, a little more delay would make Edwina a
wife, and Shaffer Knight would be too late in
one t.

But t 0 hope was premature.

The sound of footsteps became audible, and
the form of a man appeared in the darkness.
He stepped upon the bridge, and Bri adier
Baldy ined the dreaded agent. ~ 6 had
come on foot, but this argued nothing advan-

tageous.
he critical moment was at hand, and the
watcher arose and stood in Knight’s path.

The latter slackened his and looked
sha ly, evidently fearful that he had encoun-
ten; a robber, or some one of that description,
but the idea quicklmed.

“ Ha! is it you, h?" be said.

“Yes, it‘s me,” sim ly replied the Old Briga-
dier. “ I’ve been wai infi for you.”

“ Waiting for me? W y?”

“I wanted to talk with on.”

“Then you’ll have to urry. I am on my
way to the vill e, and in haste.”

‘ I have b why you are going.”

“ Indeed I”

“ Yes; it is to arrest Evan Conrad.”

“ I did not t that the fact was known by
peo 1e in gene , but on have hit the nail on
the ead. Iamgoing or that purpose, andamin
great haste. The horse which i hired at the de-
pot fell dead lame by the way, and I had to
abandon him. Walkin is not a rapid means
of locomotion, and I am hind time.’

As he spoke the last words he made a move-
ment to pass, but the Brigadier put out his

hand.
“Wait a moment, Mr. Knight; I want to

talk with you.”
“ I will see on to-morrou .”
“ That will too late; it is to-night or never.

Sir, what is there against Evan Conrad?”

“ Everything. He has broken every stipula-
tion of is lease, secretly sold )ortions of his
crops—but wh enumerate? e has done
enough to sen him to prison for a term of
years and he is going there.”

“ ave you positive proof ?"

H Ya. 7’

“ May I ask who are your witnesses?”

“ You may not,” Knight suspiciously answer-
ed. “ You are his neighbor—probably his
friend—and I cannot give you my case.”

“ Mr. Kn ht, do you know what is about to
transpire at
asked.

“ I- know that if I don’t make haste he will

ma
grea y complicate the case.

“ Bu pose that this was your wedding night,
sir. ould you like to have some one enter
and arrest you!" . .

“ I suppose that if I had laid myself liable to
giant, "my accuser would not consult my

“ But I “keg-Zion to look at itfrom the stand-
int of the egroom-elect,” mildly replied

pose cases.”
“But, Mr. Kni ht), Evan Conrad and Miss
Vane are my frien s, and I am, sorely troubled
at thgught of the sorrow about to come to

“ What is this to me?”

“ I trust that you are not indifferent to others'
troubles, air.”

“In business, I know only business. Come,
Benmarsh, let me pass!”

The agent spoke impatiently: valuable time
was going to waste. and he might be toolate.
Butashetried to pass, Bri dier Baldy again
blocked his path. The 01 soldier was v
much in earnest, but his manner was respectgufz
Wig-ceding and humble.

“ . Knight, l that youwill hear me. I
have come all this istence to see you alone,
and beg that you will have mercy On my young
friends at the village. I bavo nown Edwina
Vane for years, and a more gentle and lovable
girllnever w Sheisdeservingofallgood
butane, but what is in store for her? Sir,

I

is house?” the Brigadier gravely I

naagirlasmucha beggar as himself, and1

A

I it will kill her if Evan Conrad goes to prison.
She is deeply attached to him, and the blow
would fall heavily.”

“Conrad should have thought of that. It’s
not my lookout,” Knight curtly replied.

“ Are you sure he has done wrong?”

“ Of course I am.” '

“ Who are your witnesses, sir?”

“I refuse to tell. Confound it, man, have
you come here to pump me?”

“ I have not. I am simply come to ask you to
be merciful. As for your witnesses, I have
reason to believe that you would not have sus~
pected anything wrong had it not been for ar-
ties right here in Buck Basin, and that t eir
motive in arousing you was simply out of re-
ven e on Evan Conrad.”

d. night looked more sharply at the Old Briga-
ier.

“Why do on think that?"

“Because have heard such a confession
made. Mr. Knight, you have been deceived."

“ whom?”

“ our Buck Basin informant.”

“ Who is he?”

“ That I can’t tell.”

“Why can’t you? But, pshawi this is empty
talk, and I am wasting time. You are making
all this delay merely to give your loved. but
criminal, friends a chance. Stand out of the
way old man; I will dally with you no longer.”

“ ne moment, Mr. Knight,” implored Briga—
dier Baldy, his voice trembling. “ “'hat I ask
of you does not in an way interfere with the
working of justice. only ask that you give
Conrad a fair chance and make sure of his guilt
before you have him arrested. You will break
I Edwina Vane’a heart if you go there to-night
- and break in upon them.”

i “ Nonsense! Hearts don’t break soeasily in
this generation. I’ve heard others talk like
you. Every time I make a move to protect m
emplo er from robbe the farce is repeated:
Just ause Sinclair hodes owns the land
hereabouts, but does not live here, there is al‘
ways a great hue-and-cry; it is an outrage
when l E? to protect his ri hts."

“Mr. night,” said the rigadier, with sim.
ple di nity, “ I certainly do not ask you to ne-
. lect is rights. He should have justice done

im. It is just that he should have what he-
longs to him, and the same rule will up ly to
his tenants. I only ask you to wait unti you
are sure Evan Conrad has done wron before
you strike at him. I ask no more,Eut this
I much I implore you to grant. For the sake of

the young girl w 0 will bear the burden of this
i blow, I beseech you be merciful!”

Again the .Old Brigadier’s voice trembled,
but he stood as erect as though on military duty.

Unconsciously he removed his hat, andthe
light breeze blew his gray hair about where the
linTehran arounid the huge of his headbea-l d

ere was eep t os in his ap ,an a
more tender-heartef‘ilnan might have been mov—
ed by it; but not Shaffer 'ght. He never al-
lowed what he called “weak sentiment” to in-
terfere with work marked out by him as neces-
sa . and a sneer his face.

‘ All this is very fine,” he replied, “but when
analyzed there isn’t a particle of sense in it,
and that’s what is needed in this world—horse.
sense!”

“ And mercy!”

“ To robbers?”

“ Mr. Knight—”

“Oh! rubbish, rubbish! Will you still keep
harping on this subject? If so, shout to the
Winds; I will not hear you. Confound. our
thick head! I believe you have delayed me ere
merel with the motive of delaying me so the
.wedd ng could go on, but I’ve got time to get
there. Out of the way, you old beggar!”

The Brigadier proceeded to obey. He had
made his ap and lest, and though his heart
was heavy w  sorrow,- he had no more to say.
Sadly he stepped aside, but as ill luck won (1
have it. moved in the same direction that

Knight did as the latter tried to pass.

Once more they came face to face, and fury
seized upon the agent. He thought his way had
been intentionally blocked, and be caught the

Oldl Brigadier in a harsh grasp and flung him
asi e.

The old man did not save himself in the least;
he fell heavil beside the timber on the side of
the bridge- ut the im tus of his own excr-
tions can Kni ht to tch forward also.

His foot stru age net .the fallen man. and
then, with a wild cry, he pitched headforemost
over the bridge, down toward the dark, deep
water. ‘

 

 

 

CHAPTER V.
m: mmw or A motor.

Baresnt BALD! scrambled to his feet ust
asaspladi below announced that Knight _ad
struck the water, and he arose with anythin
but amiable feelings. The shock of his fall
been a severe one, the force of it comm on his
injured hip, and as no man is all angel, 9 could
not be] feeling indignant that a siren young
‘Eerson hurledan aged one 80 he“ ynpon

hard planks.

 

 



:4,
w

«.4 a“

' ' '-' ~ ’ .- , ,i ,. l  W;
, ~ _. . v , v 7 ‘V— 1 Vr—V—vr . _ , v . - v _ r Y 3». _ ‘a a. ‘ 1" r
f ' 7,17 ,  I  I a ,’ 1.4. gm ,‘ 1 i , -' y- i r . ’ 1

 ' p a * Old Baidy.’  "  5‘

 

 

The pain in his hip was sharp in the extreme been maliciousliimade ‘90 Prevent the marriage ak both d t . n
in 6 en 5 mee financia

and he sat down on the timber until it should of Conrad and iss Vane. With the two irre- _ y.
abate. vocany married, and Knight at rest in the When he started his hotel he looked about for
Once more Knight called for help—a feeble, river, was it not likely that the secret would be a proper name. He Wished to imply that man
husky cry—and then all was still. Even then the forever buried? The conspirators at Buck Basin could there find perfect peace, rest and .immuni-
Brigadier did not stir. The howl of a wolf would sup their charges had been ignored, ty from trouble. What name would iniply it?
sounded from the base of the Pyramids, ahun- and peep e would never trouble themselves S While the ca nters and masons labored, he
rlred yards or more away, and was the only much to learn what had become of Shaffer; thou ht. Byt etime the last stroke of work
audible sound, near or distant, to be heard. Knight. was one, he had arrived at a conclusxon. The
Suddenly, however, Brigadier Baldy sprung There seemed to be a score of reasons why the 1 only place in the world which was one of com-
to his feet. Alarm gave him a ' ity. His pain Brigadier should remain silent, and no good one ' plete rest was the grave.

l i A moment later Knight’s voice arose feebly, On the other hand, though Sinclair Rhodes, CHAPTER VI.

3 yet in accents of terror. the land-owner, had a second agent, the two a wannmo.

‘3 “Help! help!” he cried. employees had seldom been together and it was THERE was one hotel in the town of Buck

~, “Let him help himself !” muttered the Briga- more than likely that Ebenezer Pray had not Basui, but if the landlord had relied solely on

I"), dier. “ He was responsible for his fall; let him heard of the charges against Conrad. . this hne of busmess there would have been none.

' swim to the bank.” There charges, the Brigadier believed, had Patronage was not righood, and it was only by
other ventures that omas Nason managed to

was for otten; his anger vanis ed. A terrible wh he should speak. Havmg deCIdeds he went to a Painter» and
thought occurred to him. ot the least of the former reasons was the when the hotel was formally opened a neat sign
What if Shafi‘er Knight could not swim ? fact that he felt his story would not be believed. swung in front of it, bearing t is inscription:

 Not until then had the .sibility occurred to Ever one, he thou ht, would believe he had ,, , ~, 
‘ him. He was himself a s illful swimmer, once purpgsely thrown tlgire agent from the brid e; THE PILGRIMS GRAVE 3,
a noted one; and with the pain shooting alon the Very fact that he had met him at that pomt A committee of citizens waited upon him and _-.
the course of the old wound, it had not occurr would seem to tell arainst him. represented the sign as obnoxious, but he was '
to him that any one else was destitute of the The old man recoi ed at the thought. Above an obstinate man in his way—and the sign re- . 3“
power. But a good swimmer ought not to have all things his sim 1e mind desired the esteem of mained.

cried for help in such a small stream as Arrow his neighbors. 6 had been a brave soldier, At the time of our story there were two or ._
River, and he suddenly became conscious that and even now took pride in the sobriquet by three regular boarders at the hotel, one of whom ‘ 

 

‘ Knight's cry had been full of terror. which he was known, but old age was upon him was a oung man named Edgar Hendrickson. ‘ ~' f
' ~ Fora moment the veteran almost staggered. and he desired only peace and good will on He had, been with Mr. Nason nearly four i,
Was therea inandrownin ,or alreadyrdrowned, earth. months, and was highly esteemed, his great, " ‘
in the dark river? Had e left one of God’s He felt that he could not go to the village, tell very great virtue being that he always paid his 
creatures to die unaided? his story, and have people stare at him as at a bills promptly.
It was a terrible thought, and the fact that murderer. He had done no work since coming to town,
'Shaffer Knight had beena hard-hearted man on “ I can’t help Shafler Knight now,” he and this also touched the landlord’s heart. A ‘

a pitiless errand weighed no longer in his mind. thought, “and it will be better for all—far bet- man of means in Buck Basin was, indeed, a very ‘L

He was as anxious to see him alive and well as ter—if I remain silent.” wonderful person.
though he had been the best of men; if ever any This decision reached he left the vicinity and Nearly every one else there was working hard ; 
«one was incapable of harboring vmdictivc fec - returned home. Once he had hoped to see Ed- and living in overty, while Hendrickson did  ",
in it was the Old Brigadier. Winn. Vane married but he could not have nothing'and has plenty of money. Mr. Nason 3‘
a’ithout the loss of another moment he ran faced her after what had occurred. envied two men, and envied them in this order: , v
.across the bridge to the south side, scrambled “ She is good and innocent,” he thou ht, “ and First, young Hendrickson; secondly, the Preai— » g " -
down the bank slo in from the abutment, and I—I—-the stain of blood is on m han .” dent of the United States. ‘ '- :F’W
stood on the river an . He shivered as he spoke, for is was no fanci- The day after the wedding the fortunate guest 5' .
_ Was the agent there? ful s ‘ech. He really felt himself responsible was sitting on the betel piazza, in‘ 8. tion ' 
'i Eager] ' he peered all about, but without for S affer Kni ht’s death. If he had not stop- where he could catch the breeze whic swept  4.
I, .avail. e saw no one; he heard nothing. him on the ridge the man would not have down from the Pyramids, while placidly smo - 
? Then he quickly flung off his more cumber- allen over: if he had not disregarded his cries ing, when he was approached by a man of pecu- 
‘ :some garments and plunged into the water. He for help he would not have drowned. liar appearance. ‘ ‘ "f '

had. made no computation of time, but it mi ht There was a ood deal of Puritanical severity He had about two hundred and twenty-five '
not be too late to save the drowning man. e in this view of be case, for it remained a fact unds of bone and flesh, and looked stron and
‘ amut be saved. The Old Brigadier felt that he that if Knight had not yielded to hot passion Boardy enough to be a gladiator. And he c im~
could not exist under the haunting terror of and assaulted an old man he w uld not have ed to be one, in a certain way.
having left a human being to drown. needed help, but the poor old Bri 'er felt him- His name was supposed to be Ben Bluff, but
He swam with the agility of younger years, ' self a criminal and suffered severely. he always referredtohimself as “ Game Chicken,
r and soon completely crossed and recrossed the On reaching the house he succeeded in gain- the Tender-Hearted Pugih'st.” He claimed to
.. ! surface where Knight was like] ’ to be if afloat, ing his own chamber unobserved, and had soon have once been a shining light "in the rin ,”
but not a sign could he find 0 the man. He discarded his wet garments. Of all rsons it but, beingtoo tender—hearted for the work, \
‘ , ', then dove and began a search for what had once was most necessary to keep Mrs. enmarsh had reformed. , * ‘
’3:- ‘been a man and Clarence Webber ignorant of the fact that The traditions of the profession were main‘
’ ‘ But still he was disappointed; the river flowed he had been in the river, but owing to the want tained in his appearance, however. He alwa
: steadily on, telling no tales, and not a sign was of domestic harmony, neither ever entered his wore a suit of flannel, the shirt being not unli'ges
' to be found to indicate that any one save him- rivato room, and he really had little to a prize-flghter’s, while the lower garments
.self had ever been in its dark waters. ear. . reached only to his knees, being met there by
The searcher did not desist until thoroughly Once more comfortably clad, he sat down and long stockings. The latter were fiery-red of
‘wearied out. Then he went to the bank, drew thought on the sub 'ect at length. color, while pants and shirt were of grayish- .
himself up, and reclined close to the water’s In one evemn t e placid calmness of his life blue. . V
1 'edge. The night was not cold enough for his had been turn to torment. From that mo- His hair was always cropped close tohis head,
- , wet garments to trouble him, and he would not ment his reatest enemy would be his own but a thin, yellow beard ornamented his broad, -

 

’ have thought of them an 'way. thoughts. 0 had remained idle while a man .red face in places. .

‘ He coul only think 0 Shaffer Knight. No was drowning in the river—a man whom he Mr. Ben Bluff was not a handsome man,
“longer did he entertain the possibility that the mi ht have saved by prompt effort. but there were those who believed him good-
man had escaped dea§n He felt sure the agent be sound of a voice outside startled him. He hearted, overlooked his eccentricities and gave - .
'had been drewned. 0 man who could swim expected to hear some one apply at the door and him the hand of friendship. ‘Among this num-

would have cried for help as Knight had cried ask: “ Where is Brigadier ldy, the murder- her was Hendrickson. ~
When he “'91”? "Ito the Water- er?” I “ Hallo, sport,” said the Game Chicken, in a ’
Clearly. he had not been able to swim, and It was a long, wearisome night and what husky voice, which was his by adoption, rather

'had died in the dark Stream While the Brigadier little slee he obtained was haunted by dreams than necessity. “Workin’ ea har ez ever, I
Tested quietly above. . ‘ too drea ful to be told here, even if they were see?”
The veteran’s mind was filled With horror, and to the int. " Side by side with you.” Hendrickson re?
- ~. the rustling of the leaves seemed to hiss: " Mur- In t e mcrning he was calmer. His view of plied.
-. derer! murderer!” ‘

, I the case was still what may be termed ultra-ex- “ Do ye know, I sometimes wonder whatever F
He was not to blame for the agent s fall from treme and he did not accept an excuse for sent ve to this forlorn placc ?” ' 3
 . the bridge; not by the moving of a finger had himself, but, seeing the necessity o hiding what “ Do you???
 he contributed to that result; but he had left he knew, he prepared to wear a calm face—for “Yes.”

-' him to drown. It was now no excuse to his own Edwina’s sake. “ What brought you here?” '
mind that, beset by that keen pain in his hl . Her enemies would say he had committed the. “ I come ter drown my sorrers in oblivyou. 
he had totally overlooked the fact that King t crime, and for her sake, for his devotion was I had been onmercifully licked by the St. Joe "

r,‘ r .. ..

 might not be a swimmer, nor did he consider well known. So be resolved to keep his dread Pet. Been out o’ ther rin fur years, an’then .
g ‘the fact that the agent had brought his fate secret bravely—for her sake! jumped in ag’in. reckless-1i e, ter t’ar ther Hie- “
g 3 upon himself by his own hot temper and vio- After breakfast Evan Conrad came. The souri garland o' vict’ry from ther Pet’s classic 
s  lence. wedding had taken place without any disagree- brow. I didn’t mt ther garland, but I did '

Brigadier Baldy was not the man to excuse able feature except thatEdwina had felt grieved soundly licked. He done me up in four roan  ‘-’
himself. He had been a soldier, but war and that the Brigadier had not been there. A mes- till I looked like a beef-critter ready fur quar- 
‘peace were wholly different things and to his senger had been sent to the house, but Mrs. terin’. What could I do arter that but seek . , .
mmple mind it seemed as much his duty to Benmarsh had curtly declared that her husband ther shades 0’ some lonelhplace an’ lose sight 0'
rescue Knight as though the agent had been his had locked himseli in his room and would see no ther wofld an’ myself? at's why I come, but
det‘i‘ir'est friend. _ one. you—you was not a devoter 0’ that Queensberry
.. as he not a human being, and was not hu- She had intended to hurt him, but, for once, shrine." '

mg‘nlllife sacred? had done him a favor. He suddenly saw a way “ Hardly."

H eft him to drown!” ‘ to plausibly account for his absence, and de- “ Yet you come?"

Sawfly the Old Brigadier muttered the clared that be had been sick, but would not mar “ Appearances indicate that I did."
“’0’: 3v; 1“ gating at the water. He felt that the happiness of the evening by revealing the “ But not uhy you did.”
he hi0? branded a modem Cain, and it almost fact. “ No.” a ‘
‘ove‘. “ liflmfd him- His face seemed to bear witness to his words, Hendrickson spoke quietly, flipping the ashes
Fina V 1 W to him that he ought to and young Conrad accepted the explanation un- from his ci with his little finger. It was the

acre: '7? 'm.

23%

, 2cw~.&ua.a v.

4an mar-1 rum -

alarm the vill , but as he arose another hesitatingly. . time t Game Chicken had ever tried to
thought cam“ ‘0 imibnntltheloyalty of his na— The Old Brigadier, however, had gone one “ pump” himfand he did not that his
“"9 became Perm!” 19— step further in his deceit. He who had always pug‘llistic friend would gain anyth by the at-

. . It was too law tf do Shafl'er Knight any disdained a talsehood had told one now unfal- mg. . . ,
g , a good. but if he told is story at all he must tell teringly. He was gronin in darkness, and his T latter looked disappointed, hesitated, and
.p it in full, and there would be a great hue and cry. only consolation was that wine was happy. then slowly said:
V He felt sure his story Would not be believed, but But he—the mind of the Old Brigadier was a . “ There is rumors afloat tor-day ez ter why
; ,f that it would be said that he had. intentionally torment. The cry uttered by Shafler Knight you come here.” " ‘
r l .. murdered‘the man to save Evan Conrad from as he fell from ’tbe bridge, med t: 'll ring l “Indeed! What does rumor say?" . a
.. . Wt. ' in his ears, and the light hadegone on o hislife. " I’ll tell ye. Buck Basin is a peculiar place.

 

 

 

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. 6

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014' Baldy;

 

Ev’ry foot 0’ land hyar is owned by one Sinclair
Rhodes, ther Eastern magnate. Ther actooal
inhabitants are his tenants, an’ they are under
his heel like so man worms. They are poorer
than church mice, at he has ’em by cast-iron
leases an’ they can’t Well leave. They stay, but
they ,hate ther man who holds them to the
ow.

“ And well they may,” interrupted Hendrick-
son. “He is a tyrant, and it’s well he don’t
come amon them.”

“ Ha! ebbe you ketch on.”

“ To what?”

“ Ther suspicions o’ ther people.”

“ What do you mean L’”

“ In a word, they think you are hyar ez his

sp .”

Hendrickson turned upon the pugilist in
amazement, but his expression soon changed.

“ You are joking,” he said.

“No, I ain’t.”

“ Then you’re mistaken. I am sure the people
have no such an idea. I have never met more
friendly persons than those of Buck Basin.”

“ I reckon they was yesterday but ther-
mometers will change. Fact is, pard, it waster
ggt you on yer guard that I come hyar now.

mehow, ther people hev got an idee that you
are hyar ez Rhodes s spy.”

Hendrickson’s forehead had contracted in a

frown.
‘5’ This is very singular,” he said. “ Who says
“ It’s common talk. I‘ve heerd it sev’ral

times.”
And then Game (‘hicken gave several names.
“This is unfortunate,” the young man ob-

served.

“Rayther, I should say, ’specially ez I hoerd
some 0’ them say that ef they knew you was
sech a spy, they would lynch you mighty
quick.”

“ Nonsense!
not that sort.”

“ Ain’t thar ton hs hyar, same ez ev’r whar
else? W’ot 0’ sec men ez Sowders, ud e,
Markoe an’ Webber?-—’specially Webber, w o
‘hates you ’cause Floralice Heath looks more
kindly at you than at him.”

“ Webberl Now you touch a chord that gives
music. I was wondering what eould have put
such vile rumors afloat; now I have the clew.
Webber hates me, and the insignificant little
wretch is just vicious enough to undermine my
reputation.”
hi ‘  because Floralice Heath loves you, not

m.

A ain Hendrickson frowned.

“ wish on would not couple our names,
Ben ” he said, in a tone of vexation.

“ t was only done fur business illustration.
‘ Ibeg yer pardon ef I offended, an’ I b’lieve
. men don’t like ter hev their sweethearts talked

about.”

Hendrickson did not answer, and after a pause

0 Chicken continued:
“ Thar may be chunks o’ wisdom in yer guess

The people of Buck Basin are

. about Webber. He’s mean enough ter spread a
false to rt, anyhow. But I’ve told er, an’
now I vise ye ter keep a sharp watch r dan-

mEfthegetake a notion ter lynch yer, Buck
1 will, ak hot place. ,m their;e decent
ewontbac upamans ter aspy
mclair Rhodes.”

“ I shill ‘ back up’ myself if anybody lays a
hand ,on me!” retorted Hendrickson. ‘ The
decent people of the town are not going to tpro—
_ coed to extremities on more suspicion, and i the

to he touch me, I shall give them their own

fiche with a double dose.”

“Bravo!” cried the ex-pugilist. “That’s the
cart 0’ talk I like ter hear, an’ ef thar is a row
I’llbe’round ter help ye. I was licked in my
last nine  flgéits, but I reckon there must be
a man in uck sin I kin wallop. Wal, I’m off;
remember ther tip I hev gi’n ye, an’ don’t run
‘yer head into trouble.”

Hendrickson, left alone, sat staring at vacancy
and allowed his Sign to go out.

He was annoy. at what he had heard. He
had come to the Kansas town with a in]
object in view, and while tryin to accomp ish it
had seen fit to move slow] an quietlyj feeling
his way, rather than rush ng ahead rec essly.

Now came this disturbance, stirred up through
the maliciousness of a (personal enemy, and e
might find himself and on] so unpo r that
itfwould be out of the qu on to even remain

“And my name is con led with Floralice
Heath’s,” he thought, stil frowning. “ Ben
Bluff calls her my sweetheart, and I suppose
everybody in the village is doing the same. It
is natural; and yet—yet—what would they say
if they knew the truth? What woul she
m.

lmked like one in physical pain as be
mentally asked the question, and. then he and-
denly arose and dashed his half-consumed cigar
acid

0.
“ Curse the luck!” he muttered; “I wish I
had never come to Buck Basin. I haven’t the
nerve—the strong heart—necessary for detective
work. I almost wish Floralice would discover
the truth and shoot me."
He went into the hotel with quick, nervous

I

 

steps, and two men who were passing looked at

'each other significantly, darkl .

“ Be seen us, an’ don’t dar’ ace us,” said one.

“ Sure sign 0’ guilt ” added the other.

“ Reckon you’re rig t.”

“ We’ll fix him tar-night so that no spy will
dare come ’round hyar ag’in.”

“ Right you be. 0’ course, you’ll be on hand
at eleven o’clock! It’ll bearight jolly night,
old man.”

“Sart‘in. Don‘t s’ so I’d miss ther fun 0’
seein' Mister Hendrickson dance with Judge
Lynch, do ye? Not much. I want ter see how
ther spy will face grim death, you know.”

 

CHAPTER VII.
FLORALICE.

Tun most beautiful woman in Buck Basin was
Miss Floralice Heath. Everybody acknowled -
ed the fact, and when other pretty girls yiefd
such a mint it is a settled matter that the
queen 0 beauty must be a charming woman to
100k upon.

Miss Heath was all of that. Above the ave-
rage hight of her sex, she had a form which
would have driven an artist to cnthusnasm, and
her face was dazzling. In contour, color and
expression it was perfect, yet no one could de-
scribe it clearl . Words failed them when
the subject of iss Heath’s beauty ruled the
hour.

She had been in Buck Basin several months,
and was another of the few persons who had
plenty of money; but, like them, she was not a
regular dweller in the place. She had come, she
said to regain her health, and though she cer-
tainly looked healthy enough when she came,
the pure air had added new roses to her cheeks.

She was well liked at Buck Basin—and fear-
cd. When she saw fit, no one could be more
gentle and winning, but there was always a
slight reserve in her manners, and those who
ought to know said that she could be as impe-
rious at times as though she owned all Buck
Basin, or even the State of Kansas.

On the evening of the same day last referred
to, Miss Heath sat in the parlor of the house,
where she had made her home since coming to
the town. It was anything but a richly fur-
nished lace, but on this point, at least, she had
never emurred; she calmly put up with Buck
Basin’s poverty, and said nothing.

Her companion on this occasion was not one
a young lady of refined tastes seemed likely to
choose. His name was Sawders,and though the
son of one of the honest residents of the town,
he was one of the most disreputable fellows in
the place.

As a boy he had been very “ wild '” as a man
he was a lazy hard-drinking ggxl-for-nothing.

During the last year he had n away a good
deal, returning at intervals, and this was one of
his occasional visits home. He had never been
known to address Floralice Heath, yet on this
occasion he had come secretly to the house and
been readin received by her.

When they were alone she abruptly asked:

“ Is there news?”

“ Can’t say there is, yet.”

“ Will there never be?”

“Oh! I don’t doubt my ability to succeed
sooner”or later, but such things ain’t learned in
a day.

“ Nor a year, it seems.”

“ That’s about the color of it.”

“ I am becoming discouraged,” she exclaimed.
“ Here I have been two years on the track, and
the end seems as far of! as ever.”

“ You didn’t manage r'ght when you had that
convict chap in your grip. Good udgment
then would have put you on the track, at what
could he tell after you had tied a stone to his
heels and sunk him in the river?”

Floralice shivered.

“ Why do you speak of that again?” she

asked.
“ Only incidentally. 8am Sloan would tell the

yarn fluently. but, poor old fellow, he’s under-

six feet of earth now. That was a nervy thing

on did, Miss Heath—few women could have
taken a convict out of prison as you did that
ni ht."

owders leaned back in his chair and, thrust-

ing his hands into his kets, looked familiarly
at his companion. 9 had a motive in sayin
all he did. Fate had made him the ally of th 3
beautiful woman, but though he seem to hold
a dangerous secret over her head, he was afraid
of her. and always afraid that he would be left
in the lurch.

He now referred to the st in orderto remind
her that her secret was is, and that he would
be much safer as a friend than as an enemy.

Floralice realized this, and a gleam came into
her dark. brilliant eyes which boded no good to
him. Their alliance was as r u at to her as
it was satisfactmzeto him, an s e wished her-
self well rid of t fellow.

But she dared not even anger him—just then.
If the future showed her a chance. Mr. Sowders
might find that he had onl a fragile hold.

‘ You have been search ng since you left here
last!” she ’qneltioned, in a cold, del hereto way.

“ Dali .

“ An without result?”

 

:3
“ So far, yes.”
“I begin to think she will never be found.”
“ Don’t be discouraged.”
“ How can I be (,itherWise?”
“ There’s nothing like grit. Faint hearts
never win games. Now, I’m a bulldog for grit.
When I set out to do a thing I do it. I’ve
agreed to find her. and I am going to do it.
T en for my reward.”

He looked at Floralice in a peculiar way, and
she shivered a ain.

“ You shall ave your money, of course.”

Sowders smiled in a disagreeable way.

“ We’ll talk it over later,” he answered.

Floralice uncloscd her lips, but shut them
again without speaking. If Sowders had been
a close observer he would have seen a finnness
in her expression which boded ill to any lans he
mi ht have, but he was seized with a esire to
stil further show his power, and he went on,
confident] y :

“ Of course you can depend on me, and I shall
tell no one here that you are playing a part. I
am a true friend, and though some men might
take advantage of their knowledge and betray
your secret, am mum as long as we are
friends!” -

“Pray, What is my secret?” the girl coldly,
cooll asked.

“ l 'hy, you—you—”

“ I am looking for a certain woman.
more could you tell about me?”

“ Egad! I reckon I could tell that you once
liberated a convict from )rison. and then
chucked him in the river to drown like a super-
fluous cat. This might not affect some pco le,
but Mr. Hendrickson would perhaps feel ii at
ease.”

Floralice Heath looked persistently at the
floor. She dared not look at Sowders. She was
no longer frightened, and it was the fact that
she knew there was a defiant, threatening s m-
kle in her eyes that she Would not look up. er
ally had become dangerous. He thought be-
cause he knew certain secrets that he c0uld
abuse his power. Previously he had been quiet
enough; on this occasion he had just the same as
announced that he should demand her hand as
the reward of his service.

She read it in his voice, manner, and eyes, if
it was not lit in wox ds.

Finally s e looked up.

“ You are talkin nonsense." she said. quiet-
ly “ The pegile 0 Buck Basin have nothingto

o with m a airs.”

\

“'hat

“ Hend ckson is making love to you.”

" If so, that is his business.”

“ And you are either reciprécating, or else you
are glaying a part with him.”

“ on have said quite enough,” she answered,
in the same uiet manner. “ I do not thank
you for meddling with what don’t concern you,
and if you don’t learn to attend more to your
affairs and less to mine, you can leave my serv-
ice as soon as you see fit.

For once Sowders’s usually (prompt tongue had
no reply read . This steady eflanco disconcert-
ed him. He elt that it was . not bravado and
her indiffe nce was surprising. How could any
woman wi such a crime anging over her
head, talk so boldly?

He sat staring at her blankly. and then the si—
lence was broken by a voice in the hall:

“  right in, Mr. Hendrickson. Miss
Heath ism t e parlor and alone. Go right in!”

Floralice sprung to her feet. It was the land-
lady’s v01ce, and she was about to usher in at
the man of all men who was not wanted t en.
The 'rl had particular reasons for not wishing
Hen rickson to see Sowders.

She looked at her visitor and then pointed to
the large open window.

“ Go!” she exclaimed. “ G0 at once!”

He hesitated a moment, half inclined to stay
and punish her for her late defiance by arousing
the other man’s suspicious and jealousy, but as
this would be so at variance with the long-stand-
ing scheme for Winning her, he thought better
of it and agilely obeyed.

She closed the window after him and lowered
the curtain just as a knock sounded at the door.

She said ‘ Come in ” and then the door open»
ed and Hendrickson appeared. \, '

Brief as was the time given her to prepare,
she had never seemed calmer and more at ease.
Her checks were slightly flushed from the haste
with which she had rid herself of her former
visitor, but this only added to her beauty as she
smilingly advanced to receive him.

There was one person who did not smile. Tom
Sowders had gone no further than the window,
but, using there, be utilized a small space at
the do of the curtain and watched with a scowl'
on his face.

“ Oh! yes, Mister Chickenson is very wel-
come!” he growled, with fine sarcasm. “
don’t receive me that way. ‘ He is the favored
one in all the kin ’s dominion.’ Turtle-doves
over again, eh? ell, let them coo if th wish;
I hold the winning cards in the me, an I will
make them wish the were deaf.t He don’t m

. t that his fine i y-love is a mnrderess—poor-

lind fool that he isl—but I know all about that
little affair. and I will win Floralice or send her.-
to the hangman i”
“ What are you mutterin’ about, Tom?”

 

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Sowders wheeled uickly as the words sound-
ed at his elbow, and%hen laughed shortly.

“ So it’s ou, J akc Judge?"

“ Judge ynch, you mean.”

“Judge Thunder! anat nonsense are you
talking?”

“ None er tall. There’s heaps o’ how-sense in
what I am a—sayin’. an’ I’ll prove it cf you’ll
come with me. J edge Lynch is up fer-night,
an’ there’s goin‘ tcr be one spy ther less a ore
mornin’. \Ve’re after a chap named Hendrick-
son, an’ of you want ter j’ine ther revelrv, just
say so an' chip in tcr help pull ther rope.”

CHAPTER VIII.
A DOUBLE si'RPmsE.

TOM SOWDERs was mistaken when he inferred
that Hendrickson knew less about Floralice
Heath than himself. The detective had not for—
gotten that singular scene near the irison when
the conth was liberated, nor land 0 forgotten
his own toilsome efforts to locate the parties to
it.

When he found Floralicc iii Buck Basin he
had advanced but little in his work. She was
found, but the convict had disa )peai‘cd. He
was no nearer the explanation o the mystery
than ever; he had no idea why the convict had
been so strangely taken from prison.

He might have arrested her at once, but this
was far from being to his purpose. There was
no clew to the past of the Convict. If the ar—
rested woman saw fit to remain silent, he might
utterly fail to make any case against her.

Knowing this he settled down in the Kansas
town, determined to make her acquaintance,
win her confidence, learn her past, and thus
draw her into a web. -

As time went on he saw that he had under-
taken no easy task. He had apparently “‘Ull
her respect, but all his subtle efforts to gather
information regarding the past proved unavail—
ing. She had nothing to say on this sub'ect.
She avoided speaking of it with rare tact, ut,
knowing what he did, the evasion was transpar-
out.

He knew she had a secret to conceal and she
concealed it with wonderful skill.

Another obstacle soon stood in his wa . He
had thought that he could hunt down t 3 im-
perious woman without compunction. On mak-
ing her acquaintance he learned the other side
of her character. She could be im rious, but
this seldom happened. No one cou d be more
gentle and agreeable than she was in her daily
life.

Every day was a revelation to him, and he
found himself forgetting that he was a detective
on the track of a criminal. When with her he
forgot all save—Floralice. And while the days
went past in which he was to cast the web, he
founda web weaving about himself and con-
stant] contracting.

H it not been for that scene near the
he might have summed up his opinion of
lice in words like these:

“ She is a marvel of beauty, intelligence, gra-
ciousness and lovable ways. She can be im-
perious and is one to defend her ri hts bravely,

at to her friends she is kind and oving. Her

 

risen
ora-

|heart is a. mine, rich in womanly graces and

noes.”

.But he remembered the meek, wretched con-
vict, and the woman who menaced him with a
revolver and seemed destitute of one good emo
tion, and he shivered and wondered to what he
was drifting. .

For he could not blind himself to the fact that
instead of being the insnarer, he was insnared,
He had come to regard Floraliceas he had never
re arded any other woman.

{ad there been no dark chapter in the past,
he would have laid his hand and heart before
her and asked for her own in return. And he
was a detective, seeking a criminal! . .

Life is full of strange complications, but it
seemed to Edgar Hendrickson that there had
never been one equal to that.

He was more deeply in the web than ever
when he came out of the house that night, and
he walked away like one in a. dream. Detective
or not, he was tempted to take Florali defy
the shadows of the , throw his oflicia alle

iance to the win , and ask only an earthly

ifetime with her.

And yet—yet-

He started uttered an impatient exclamation
and tried to forget her and everything else.

A footstep sounded behind him.

He didnot heed it. Buck Basin had been a
lawfabidmg place, and he had forgotten Game
Chicken’s warning.

He did not even turn, but the chance was
500“ l0“ t0 him. A man had ate ped as softly
as ible from the shadow of a uilding, and
in 8 hand he held a missile made by filling a
has With sand—an cflective, noiseless means of
dis 1 {lug 3f an Enemy.

8 an “’93 “Mme down. The el

full upon Hendrickson’s head. has r 1

It was a blow which would have felled a

t, and the stricken man went down in a

cap. He was common: that something wrong

had occurred, but, almost insenaible. made no
movement whatever to rise or defend himself. ’

Other men whisked out of their hiding-places,

l I

 

and Hendrickson was quickly raised and borne
away between two houses, toward the rear.
Here a horse was waiting, but their first move-
ment was to bind and gag the prisoner.

They were still in the village, and though no
outsider was visible, an outcry might prove fatal
to their plans, and themselves.

This possibility guarded against, they flung
their victim across the horse and hastened to
leave the village. Everything was in their
favor, and as no one appeared to o pose their
plans, the houses were soon left he ind. Not
yet did they pause, however; their faces were
set toward the dark form of the Pyramids, and
they went on as fast as the men could walk he-
side the horse.

Gradually the prisoner recovered his senses,
and as he fully realized his situation he remem-
bered Game Chicken’s warning.

The. latter had said a rumor was afloat that
Hendrickson was a szly, and that threats had
been made against him. Undoubtedly his ene-
mies had moved in the matter.

He looked at them sharply. All were masked,
and they we e but five in number. It was a
small gathe ng for such a party, and showed
that it was no popular uprising. Hendricks-ion
felt sure that it was to be attributed solely to
personal enmity. The same men who had set
afloat such vicious reports had now taken one
step further and aimed at his life, as well as his
re utation.

0 tested hisbonds; they were too firmly 13)-
plied to be displaced by his own efforts. e
must submit for the present, at least.

The procession went on in grim silence, pass-
ing the bridge over the Arrow River, and reach-
ing the base of the hills. Here they found trees,
the thing so dear to a lynchcr’s heart and they
halted and pulled the prisoner from t e horse.

Under the s readin tree-tops all was very
dark, and mas 's mig t have been dispensed
with. But they were kept on, and one man tore
the gag roiiglilv from Edgar’s mouth.

“ Let the fe ler have a chance ter chin,” he
said. “ Ev’i'y man ought ter be allowed a fare-
welll”specch aforc he shuffles off ther mortal
c01 .

“ Hear! hear! A speech!” called a second
lyncher, with an attempt at facetiousness.

Hendrickson answered 'promptly, and with
surprising coolness:

‘ Release my hands, and I’ll make a speech."

“ Not much! Do you think we are fools?”

“ I really do. t in perdition do you mean
by thus assaulting me?”

“ We mean business. Don’t ou think, Mr.
Spy, that you can grind Buck asin under yer
heel. We are onto your game, an’ we’ll show
Sinclair Rhodes how we deal with his gang."

“ What has that to do with me?”

“ Enough so that on are in fur a waltz with
a rope as partner. on’t you play ther inner-
cent- it won’t 0 down with us. ’

“ ion are ta ingnilionsense. If you mean to
intimate that I ve any connection with
Rhodes—”

“ That’s jest what we do mean. You’re his
sp . »

X I am not. I don’t believe on think so. If
you do, you are mightily mista en.”

“We don’t expect you to admit it.”

“ Of course you don’t, for you know I am not

ilty. In a word, this is all a. put-up job. I
have bad word that such rumors were afloat.
They are lies; mere concoctions of a man who
hates me, and wants me out of the wa . If
that man is here now, let him step forwa .”

No one moved. There was a moment’s silence,
and then the spokesman added:

“ You are oing ‘ out o_’ the way ’ fast enough,
anyhow. J ge Lynch is out on the range ter-
night. No spy kin live in Buck Basin, and we
are goin’ ter fix you. Here is a re and a tree.
Connect them With you as a ste yin weight,
and what will be the result? Spy, you ve got
ter hang l”

“ Are you in earnest?”

“ We sart’inly be.”

“ Let me suggest a compromise then. Men 50
free to cut and slay as you are must be brave
men. Give me a fair chance. Release me, ive
me a revolver and go out on the prairie, an I’ll
fight the whole lot of on.”

“ Not ,by a. blam sight. Do
we’re gom’ ter throw away a sure t

“ So, ou’re afrhid?”

“ Tal . ’8 cheap, an‘ you can chin while we act.
Men, git ready the rope, an’ we’ll wind this
business up straightway.”

“ I give you fair warning that you’ll get into
troub e,” said Hendrickson. “ Friends of mine
here W111 know just whom to place their hands
upon to avenge my murder. I’ve talked this
matter OVcr with them, and we a as to who
had started the lie about me. If you do me
harm, you will find your crime recoiling on
yourselves.”

“ Nonsense! This is all wind. Here, one of
you guard ther pris’ner, an’ ther rest on us will

nd ther right sort 0’ a limb. It won’t be no
easy job, it’s so dark.” ,

Leaving the ard, the others proceeded to
carry out the ant order. As the leader had
said, it was difficult to find a gmd limb where
the rope would hang properly. While looking,

iffgii‘ppm“

'n
'{

..u_ ,  i;

 

they worked several feet away. but one of their
number finally ascended a tree, and the matter
was duly settled and the rope placed.

“ Now for the prisoner!” said the leader.

Back they went, but——

“ Whar be they ?” asked the last speaker.

For a moment there was no answer, and then
one of his followers suddenly said:

“ Hyar’s ther pris’ner on ther ground.”

He bent over the prostrate man, and then sud-
denl sprung up.

“ oys,” he cried, “ this ain’t the spy: it's
J akc, an’ he’s stone dead. Great Scott! what
has happened here?”

CHAPTER IX.
THE DUSKY GIRL OF THE PYRAMIDS.

THE men stood as though petrified for a mo-
ment, and then the leader sprung to the side of
their fallen comrade.

“Dead! He ain’t dead ” he declared, “but
he is knocked senseless. Ili'har’s Hendrickson?
What the blue blazes has happened hyar, any-
how?”

It was a uestion which none of them could
answer, for t e prisoner had certainly been left
securely bound.

“ He never got away alone,” added the mask-
ed leader. “ Scatter an’ search. Somebody’s
helped him away, but they can’t have gone fur.
Hunt ’em down, an’ kill ther hull durned lot you
come upon. VVe’re in fur ther swim, an’ they’ll
make it hot fur us ef they git away. Go for
them!”

The order was romptly obeyed.

It was clear t at the fa itives must have

taken to the rugged side of t e Pyramids. so to ‘

that uarter the would-be lynchei's turned their
attention. They now had more than mere 5 ite
to urge them on. If Hendrickson escaped, t ey
might ‘find the noose shifted from his neck to
theirs.

He must not escape, and so, to prevent it,
away they went in headlong pursuit.

Hendrickson had been as much surprised as
an one at his rescue, and how it happened he
di not exactly know. He had been standing
by “ Jake” when the sound of a heavy blow was

followed by the lyncher reeling back against ‘ 

him so heavily that he almost went down, too.

When he ully recovered his balance, Jake
was on the round, lying as still as the earth
itself, but be ore he had time to withdraw his
surpri gaze, a hand grasped his arm ner-
vousl .

“ ot a word! Don’t alarm those men.” .

It was a woman’s voice, and as be partially
turned something cold touched his wrists and
his bonds fell aWay. Another moment and his
feet were free, and then he saw his rescuer
standing before him, still holding the knife
which had done such good work. ’

She gave him no time to speak.

“ Quick!” she exclaimed, ‘ we must
from here. Your life depends upon i
carefully, carefully!
betray your escape.” ,

She had seized his hand and was leading him
away, but he now amused from his surprise and
became as cool as ever. He had been rescued by
a woman, and though he did not thus far know
who she was, it was the time of all times to
make good his escape.

Before them was the sloping side of the Pyra-
mids, covered with rocks an nnderbrush. and
in the darkness ess seemed to him almost

t awa
Nowy,

1‘08?
impossible, but his guide, still holding his hand, *

found a way easily.

He bgan to have a suspicion as to her iden-
tity. e remembered the dusky people who
lived at the base of the hills, and t ough they
were seldom in the village, he had two or three‘
fines seen the youngest of the quartet“—

ah.

\A handsome girl she was, despite her swarthy C in

face. but she paid the penalty of being one of
the Gypsy family and none in Buck Basin was

so poor as to be her friend in the eyes of the. 

world. ‘
They had placed several ards between than: ; '
selvoc and he lynchers w en the first alarm v ‘

come. but it came em hatzically when it did

sound. Up the slope be ind them rushed Hen- ‘ ’

drickson’s enemies. and their headl advance
showed the fugitives that a slow, q
was no longer to be thouzht of.

“Have you a revolver!”

Hendrickson asked the question sharply, look- 

ing back at the men with flashing eyes.
6‘  ’1

“ Give it to me, then.”
“ on mean to fight?” ..
“Fig ti Yes; I’ll shoot the man who tries’fo
touch me. I am no mere wolf to be hunted—”
" Not at. Come with me and I will show
you a p e where the can’t get at you. We
are safe enough; we
I defy them to take us!”
Her voice was as cool and steady as that of a

o i V

man; and Hendrian felt that he had secured.  .
Shestill clung to his hand and .g,’

no mean ally. .
led him forward but the lyncher-E’san rapidly;
She had given him a revolver,
tient to use it.

'l‘hesemen had placedthemselvesfi the list of ‘
mere assassins, and he did not liketheideaot ‘  

I

Don’t let a rattling stone I

t retreat 

ave two revolvers, and i

   
 

he was imp.» '

 

r; 8.

Old Baldy.

 

, i ' fleein from them when the odds were no more
than $01K or five to one. He had often fought
more difficult battles in his career as a detec-
tive.
He had been aware that they were getting
‘ 'dan erously close, and a shout suddenly arose.
' “ har they be! Press on, men, an’ we’ll
hev them in a shake. Shont ther cusses!"
And a bullet whizzed past the fugitives.
Hendrickson’s eyes flashed and he drew back
the hammer of his revolver, but still the girl
urged him on.

‘

" “It’s only a step, and when we get there
 we are safe," she said, never relcasmg his
 hand.

 “ But a chance bullet may hit us.”
 , “ Not much! Those fellows can‘t shoot in tho
. ~ dark, and I can. But here is the place I meant
Sprin up on that ledge!”

. And; she set the example by making an up-
". . ’ ward leap Worthy of an acrobat. Hendrickson
i could do no more than to follow. and up he
Went. At first glance he realized why his
companion had been so anxious to roach the
place. It was almost like a house on a rock, or,
to speak more correctly, the rocks above the
ledge took the form of a. tunnel, showing a
vacant space like a cave beyond.

The entrance, where the guide now turned
at bay, was very narrow. and as the lynchers
must leap up on the, ledge to get at them, it
‘ seemed as though they would be able to hold
a large force at bay thrrc.

Before he could form any definite plan he
was surprised to see the girl bend down, and
, when she arose she held several stones of about
the size of brick". in her hands.

The lynchers were still coming on, and one
had just raised his voice in a hoarse shout
when a stone Went sailing through the air and
. his voice ceased with suspicious abruptness,
‘ o {Etc arise a moment later in a voley of

08. .

 
   
   
   
 
 
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
   
  
   
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
   
 
   
   
   
  
   
   
   
    
 
 
  
  
   
  
  
   
      

I Hendrickson’s friend luuglied shortly.

“ Hit him, you see. If t cv want to assault
this fort, let them come. We will give them
' , the‘warmcst welcome they m or had.”

“M dear young lady, on are. a trum
card? the detective declaroi . ‘ \Vords \voul
be” thrown away in praising you, for they
. weaken when applied to heroism like yours.

' v Hallo! here they Come!"
’ The pursuers had advanced, and Hendrick-
son decided to give them warning before pro.
’ cegding to extremities. He shouted, and suc-
ceeded in bringing them to a halt.
“ Oh! you’re there, be you?" cried a derisive
', gvoice.

" -‘ “We are, and you’ll find it out if you don’t
 keep back. Now, just one word to you, incn.
. "The safest thinc' you can do is to ct out of
,' this at once. 0 are two doterm ned men,
‘-‘ armed to the teeth and ready for a fight. We
will bear no more molestation. Keep away, or
we will shoot to kill l”

“ Two can play at that game.”

“Idou’t care a cent what on do. If you
want :1 fight, come right ahea . I merely give
you fair warning, and now if you want to at-
-' tack us. your blood be on your own heads.
' That’s all.”

' “Don't you crow too loud. We’ll hev ye
at.”
y The retort was bold enough, but they evident-
,. Iy did not care to be too precipitate. No ad-
 vance in front was made. but a consultation
,'among the men was followed by sounds which
 indicated that they were looking for a way to
" attack from the rear.
’ Hondrickson’s friend smiled at this and as-
sored him they were in absolutely no danger.
,, ' The tunnel-like cavity was only a little recess in
»  the rocks, and could only be reached by the way
I the had gained it.
e detective, however gained an idea when
he'saw the members of the gang scatter. Not
‘ more than two, at the most, could be left in
ifront. ’ Why could they not make their escape
.. at once! .
“I , The girl caught at the proposal immediately.
1 “Perhaps it is best,” she said- “and you can
have given you

.w

 .come to our cabin until they

,, In"
5-. “’ ‘ I think you are Leah Lee.”
‘ “.1 mm.”

:‘ “Well, ou’ve done me a favor, and I shall
' ' surely cal some time, but there is hardly occa-
‘ .. I listen for it to-night."
\ «I .. “ But I want to talk with you.”
 ‘ “You do?”
, V H Yes.”

. “About what?"
.- .“ I’ll tell you when we are at the cabin—it’s
‘ nosmall matter." ‘
. Leah spoke more earnestly than usual, and as
:"f it occurred to Hendrickson that she wigs: know
Ef ' something about the causes which had to his
 , trouble, he said he would go there at once if

they could escape.
_; “ It‘s my opinion that we are not going to get
 "out of this without a skirmish,” he added.
'~ " They have not sent all their force to the rear

* and left the front unguarded.” I

‘ “ Thou let us go carefully.” Leah quickly re-
 ,pliod. “There is underbrush in the way, and
‘ :looco stones, but I know every foot of the road.

 

 

Let me lead, and no noise shall be made to be-
tray us.” ,

“ Go on, then. I will be ready to meet who-
ever opposes us, if we are unlucky enough to run
upon anybody.”

They descended from the rocky latform and
began to retreat. Leah had ma e no empty
boast when she declared that she knew the way
well. She found paths where Hendrickson
would never have suspected their existence, and
they moved along through the bushes, and
.iunonr,r frowning rocks, with satisfactory si-
once.

As they went on Hendrickson‘s hopes aroma,
and he was congratulating himself on a safe de-
parture when they suddenly came face to face
with a man between two walls of rock.

He paused in evident sur )rise, but before even
the detective could move, ah sprung forward
like a tigress and presented a revolver at the
unknown’s head.

“ Surrender!" she hiSSed. “Not a word of
alarm, or you are a dead man!”

Her voice rung imperiously, but the man was
plainly not of weak material. With a nick
motion he threw up one hand and snatch the
revolver away, and in a moment more had
turned it upon her and pressed the trigger.

 

CHAPTER X.
LEAH SURPRISES HENDRICKSON.

HENDRICKSON uttered a cry and sprung for—
ward, but not quick] enough to prevent the un-
known’s purpose. T e hammer of the revolver
fell. If the weapon had been true, nothin
could have saved the girl’s life, but it misse
flre. Only a harmless “ click ” followed.

Another moment and it was wrested away by
Edgar Hendrickson’s strong hands.

'1 e second man, however, proved himself pos-
sessed of great nerve and quickness of action,
and he threw himself upon the detective in a
headlong way. The latter found himself forced
to a personal encounter, whether he would have
one or not. _

What he feared most was a cry that would
alarm the other lynchers, and he took care to
promptly prevent the possibility of this by clos—
inihis hand over thovman’s throat.

nother moment and they were engaged in a
fierce struggle. Hendrickson was a powerful
man, but he soon found that the unknown was
equally so. An attempt to beat him down by
more strength failed, and he glided like a snake

from every hold by which the detective tried to ‘

tri him.
ack and forth they whirled with a rapidity

which baffled Leah’s every movement to aid her'

ally. The Gypsy girl’s will was good cnou h.
and she had drawn a dagger from her poc ’ct
and eagerly watched for a chance to use it. The
hot blood of her race was in her veins, and her
nature knew no such thing as scruple. She
would have stabbed the unknown in the back
without remorse if she could.

Luckily for him the opportunity was not
given. The detective’s repeated efforts were
successful, and he finally went down on top of
his enemy with force sufficient to dash the
breath from the latter’s body for a time.

Just then a voice called some indistinguishable
name not far away, and Hendrickson sprung to
his feet. '

“ Lead on!” he said hurriedly to Leah. “ We
shall have the whole gang after us if we stay
here. Lead on, at once!’

The Gypsy girl looked regretfully at the fallen
man. Al her eVil passions were aroused, and
she would gladly have used the dagger even
then, but she was wise enough to know that
Hendrickson would not countenance such an
act.

Without a word she obeyed his directions.

Once more she chose the way with admirable
skill, and without further molestation, they es-
ca from the vicinity.

endrickson would gladly have returned to
the village, but he remembered his promise and
did not demur as she led the way toward the Lee
cabin. But theyl went almost in silence. He
was thinking of is late adventure and wonder-
ing wha Would be the outcome. He believed
he Cll‘llli name every one of his late assailants,
but his inclination was to disregard the matter
and take better care of himself .in the future.

He would hasten to convince honest people in
the village that he was in no way connected
with Sinclair Rhodes. and if the rufl‘ian element
again molested him, he would try to give them
a lasting lesson.

What Leah's thoughts were he did not know;
indeed, he hardly-{thought of her until her sud-
den sto caused in to look up. The Lee cabin
was be ore him.

Leah pushed open a door and, though all was
dark inside, bade him enter.

He hesitated for a moment. Something
seemed to warn him not to enter the building,
and a more ractical reason existed in the fact
that if he ha been asked to name the most dis-
reputable and dangerous men of Buck Basin, he
would have said they were Nat and Kit Lee.

After all Leah had done for him he would not
hesitate, however. He followed her, and the
girl soon hadalamp lit. Hendricks»: looked

c A .‘ H,‘ :, I".
 .1. V . -, ,v

 

curiously about while she secured the door and
curtained the windows.

No one else was visible in the small, rudely-
furnished room.

Leah turned to him. and, apologizing for their
poor Quarters, asked him to be seated, and it
seem that she had almost forgotten their late
adventure. Her eyes gleamed brightly, and the
smile on her face was thorou hly womanly.

That she was handsome, espite her dusky
face, no one could deny, and her regular feat-
ures, dark, brilliant eyes, and supple, well-
rounded form made a picture which, somehow,
reminded the detective of a panther.

Just now she was all fii‘aciousness, and no
belle of civilization could ave been more easy
and polite as she saw that he had the best chair
in the room. Somehow, though, Hendrickson
felt ill at case. She was tOo gracious, in his
opinion, and too evidently pleased at having him
for a guest.

If he had been a vain man he would have
thou ht that Leah Lee was in love with him.
Not ing a vain man, he hoped she was not.

She sat down and brought the battery of her
great, midnight eyes to bear upon him.

“ You remember that I said I had something ,

to tell you?” she abruptly began.
H  ,7
“I think I shall surprise you."
“ Go on, and see.”
, I shall undoubtly offend you, at
first ”

“ I promise to forgive on.”
“ T ien I will speak p ainly. Whom do you
lay the blame of your adventure to .7”

“Personal enemies; I shall tr to learn who.
But I remember that on promISed to su rise
me. Have you a suspicion? If so, state it. ’

“I will, though you will be offended. In a
word, the person who set the lynchers u ion

on was a woman. Her name—Flora 'ce

'eath!”

Hendrickson started, and his face wasa pano-
rama of conflicting emotions. He tried in vain
to control it. He was not then a detective, but
a lover. He heard Le ah speak ill of a woman
whom lie—yes, he loved Floralice! Why try to
deceive himself? He loved her; the anger in his
heart as he heard her accused proved it. But
he could not spring to his feet and defend her
as a loyal lover should do. Remembering that
Scene by the prison walls, a war tefore, he could
not feel that she was wort y of being loyally
defended. '

“ You are making a singular charges”, he
said uneasily.

“ by singular?”
y should a woman set lynchers at work?”

Lcah smiled slightly.

“ Did they tell you that they believed you to
be an agent of Sinclair Rhodes?”

H Yrs. 73

“Her work!”

h“ lint why, I ask you, why should she do
t is? .

“The fair Miss Heath is not the amiable and
spotless woman she seems. Her past life has
been dark and devious, and she has much to
conceal. If she Was known to the world as she’
is, she would soon be dragged from the pedestal
where she poses so daintin as a model woman.
She fears you will thus diag her down.”

“ Nonsense!”

“What do you mean by that?”

Hendrickson hesitated. He could not tell her
that his association with Floralice had been such
that, whatever might be “dark and devious 3’ in
her past, he was sure she regarded him too high-
ly to do him harm. ‘ ‘

Leah, however, seemed to read his thoughts,
and a peculiar scornful sniile flitted across her
face. It vanish , and she quietly replied:

“ Perhapsyou think because she isso fascinat-
ing at times that ~he is incapable of doin
wrong. th0 can’t be agreeable when she tries
Don‘t trust Floralice Heath.”

“ I have two questions to ask you.”

“ Go on!"

“ First, how does it happen that you know 'so
much about her?”

“ That I can’t ex lain. I am sorry, but I
cannot tell a word. on’t blame me for this—
it is impossible.” "

“ Well, why does she fear me? Even if her
life has not been blameless, why should she think
may I would ‘drag her down, as you express
t

“She thinks you are a detective !"

Hendrickson could not avoid a start. Since
coming to Buck Basin be had tried in every way
to prevent an one 8 ug that he was a de-
tective, and t is blunt avowal dlSCODC(‘!'ted him
for a moment. Was. however, not only ca-
pable of self-contra as a rule, but of
a measure of 'ick wit, and as he saw thatLeah
was watchin im closely. it occurred to him
that perha his was the time when the suspi-
cion woul be confirmed or at to ' ,

“ What nonsense !" he exc 'med. “ hath”
given rise to such an absurd idea?”

“ A guilty conscience."

“ So far your accusations have been
Can you prove that she is a oriminalhor any-
thin of the kind?"

“ f you wish, yes.”

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“ I do wish it,”

The sudden drooping of Leah’s eyelids did not
wholly conceal the sparkle in her eyes.

“ To do this you must take a journey.”

“ Whither?”

“ That I can’t tell; but if you will be guided
by me I will convince ou.”

“ How can I go if don’t know my destina-
tion?” _

“I will go with you. Of course you Will
know where we are when we get there, but to
tell you in advance would be to ruin all, per—
haps. Place yourself under my guidance. and I
will convince you that Floralice Heath is a dan-
gerous woman to know.” A

Hendrickson did not answer at once. He sat
looking keenly at the dark, handsome face be
fore him. He was an riscd that the swarthy
girl of the Pyramids s ould know, or claim to
know, an thing about one so far above her in
the socialyscale as Floralice Heat-h. lVas she
speaking the truth, or merely telling a false
hoodi—as a vicious woman will, sometimes, to
harm one of her own sex.

She. met his gazt- unwaveringly, yet with an
air of modosty and sincerity which impressed
him strongly. And was it not his ruling pas-
sion to learn more of Floraliccé

“ I will place myself under your guidance,”
he finally said.

The the was cast, and, having romised to
meet her the next evening prepa for a jour-
ney he left the house. He returned to the vil-
lage in so thoughtful a mood that it was well
none of the lynchers were about. .He went
safeliy, but in a confused and uncertain state of
mm .

 

CHAPTER XI.
IN STRANGE QUARTEas.

FORTY-EIGHT hours have elapsed since the
scene of our last chapter, and we are required
to imagine ourselves at the outskirts of a city
many miles from Buck Basin—the exact name
of the place may here be left unmcntioned.

There is less of far—stretching prairie than
around the little Kansas town, and the envi-
rons are dotted with trees of all forms, from
those that line the roads to the more preten-
tious ornaments of private grounds.

At one point a large bui ding stands a bun-
dred yards back from the road. Around it is
an inclosed field of at least four acres, with al-
most a wilderness of trees and shrubbery,
though kept in gmul form.

The building is of brick, and of very large
size; too large for any private residence. It is
also plainly built, but. unusually strong, and a
close in tion would show an observer that
nearly a l the windows were barred.

On the evening in question two persons paus-

m. flxsxnwt van
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01d Baldy-

 

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 9

 

“Since you have surmised it, I will admit the ? venged on the person who would shut me up

fact. Now let us go on before more time is 3 thus."

lost. You shall see that even rison doors can
be unlocked by those who use t e right means.”

Thev went on along the well-kept walk. Ed-
gar Hendrickson was on the alert. yet more
than ever he had occasion to wonder and medi-
tate. The sudden revelation of the Gypsy girl’s
power was unexpected. He had always looked
with disdain upon the dusky people of the Py-
ramids; he would have laughed at the idea of
their being more than ordinary strolling vaga-
bonds.

But Leah—what was she that she could come
and go so mysteriously?

He was not venturing into the building like
one blindfolded. He had no great amount of
faith in his swartliy guide. She might be try-
ing tolure him into a trap: but he was prepared
for what might come. Armed to the teeth, and
with wits sharpened by several years‘ experience
as a. detective, he felt able to care for himself in
almost any’ complication or danger that might
arise, and he followed Leah boldly.

Passing the front of the building, she went
unhesitatingly to a side door and pulled a bell-
handle twice, but in a very gentle manner. Al
most before the last peal had ceased to sound,
tn: door was opened, and a burly, rough-looking
m n stood before them.

Before Leah could speak, he stepped back
quickly. I
“Come in! Don’t be seen waiting here.”

They obeyed, and Hendrickson saw that they
were in a small room which seemed devoted to
the use of the man on guard. He looked some-
what nervous, and as he obserVed that he did
not know as they would come, it had grown so
late, the detective thought that he would have
been glad if they had not come.

“Is all well?” Leah asked.

“ Yes.” ,

“Any news from the woman who is coming?”

“None, except that my wife overheard the
doctor say that she was coming.”

“Then the sooner we get to our places, the
better. Where is your wife?”

“Just went to the other room. She will re—
turn— Ahl here she comes.” .

The door opened and a little, e-faced wo-
man entered. She did not look ike an asylum
emplo ee physically, but Hendrickson was at
once s uck with the ' appearance of her
eyes. They were stce gray, and had a peculiar-
ly cold, unfeeling look. He felt that she had the
heart, if not the strength of body, for work in-
side such a place.

Seeing Leah, she dispensed with all form of
greeting, and abruptly said:

“ You had better make haste. The other
woman is liable to be here at any time, and the

 

ed before the iron gate which fronted the street,
one of whom was a man, the other a woman.
The latter run the bell attached to the ate. It
speedily broug t a man from a little riding ‘
at on side, but a few words from the woman
caused her to be admitted with her compamon 
almost in silence.

The visitors entered, the iron gate clanged to
behind them, and they walked along the, hand-
some drive-way which led to the main building. l

“ Before we further.” said the map, “ I i
want to know not what sort of a place we are i
going to. Thus far I have followed blindly. but
I should be too blind for common sense if I did
not now ask for an explanation. The locked
gate, the high wall connecting with it, and the
gentleman of the key, all tel that we are on
peculiar ound. . This is not a State Prison—
what is it ’ _ '

“ What do you surmise?” she asked.

“ It may be a lunatic asylum.”

“ You are right.”

The man shru ged his shoulders.

“ I hope you dili‘t intend to shut me up?”

“ Certainly not.”

“ Then why are we here?"

“ To show you what Floralioe Heath really
is.”

“ How can that be done, when she is a hard
day's journey distant?" .

‘ I will show her to you here before the night
ends.”

He wheeled upon the speaker abruptly.

“ ins Lee, you are a peculiar person.”

 

“Either you are in league with Floraliee

‘Heath, or you have a rpmarkable knowledge of

her coming and 

“ You forget that am a Gypsy, and of a race
of .fortunetellcrs. To than who can read the
future. many things supposed to be hidden are
011311 and  fl '

D083 vs the power to manip-
ulate mad-House oflci s like jumping-fucks. or
how do you propose to enter the place?” he ask-
ed, with nonchalanoe hardl to be e .

‘ I have friends here will be p me. Of
course it is the only way to enter, and secure
the libert we We are expo-ted, and a
keeper wi i let us inside the swim as the. first
man did through the gate. Then I will soon

. show you why Inhave used such haste since

leaving the depot.

- would be anything but that it” t

sooner you are in place, the better. The doctor
is in his study now, but there is no knowing how
soon he may be rowling about. I suppose on
both understan that ution is necessary. Tou

r are admitted here agai st the rules of the place,

and though with common care you are safe, you
c doctor was to
discover you.”

“ You would be likely to occupy a cell the
rest of your lives,” dryly added the doorman.
“ The secrets of private mad-houses must be
kept secret.” "

‘ We understand all that,” impatiently re-
plied the Gypsy girl. “ Lead on, at once!”

They went, and the woman with the cold.
pale eyes conducted them through several rooms
until they reached a small one which was scant-
ily furnished and seemed to haVe no particular

use.

The only light came from a transom over a
secand door, but the woman brushed aside a cur-
tai and showed them that the. room was par-
tially connected with a larger one by means of
huge windows fixed in the plain wall. When
the curtain was up one light would have answer-
ed for both 1001118, and they would have been
practically one; with the curtain down they be:
came separate. '

Hendrickson at once saw that they would
have an excellent chance to see and hear all that
occurred in the larger room, and his faith in the
venture increased somewhat.

“ I have a word of caution togive you before I
go,” the woman said. “Whatever you see or
hear, remain as quiet as the grave. Bring dis-
covery upon yourselves and you may never see
the outside world again.”

And then she left them alone.

Leah shivered rceptibly.

“I shall be. g when it is over,” she said.
“The air of this place stifles me; I know it too
well. Private mad-houses never have good
reputations, and this is a living tomb and lace
of torture. The chief doctor is a sleek-l ing,
smooth-spoken man, but a ve demon at heart,
and his s stem of ruling the p ace is shocking.”

Ben ckson did not answer; he was wonder—
ing if Leah would be so confidential if she knew
he was really a detective.

“ What would you think of a person who
would imprison another, perfectly sane, here?”

 

' “ In other words, Floralice Heath is mpposed

i

she continued
“ It would be severe to saLthe least.” ‘
"Several Ia thatall ou vs tony?”
“One thing more.

for one, would be m-

 

It was a warning, for Hendrickson was by no
means wholly at ease. He began to think that
it was a mad idea to expect to see Floralicc
Heath there. Had he been decoyed by the
Gy sy girl?

ere seemed a strong possibility that such
was the case, but his hand rested on his ready
revolver and he was determined to make mat—
ters very warm for whoever should molest him.
Leah. at least, could not escape the consequences
of any treachery unless she was far better pro-
vided with means than seemed probable.

She had been keeping the curtain drawn some-
what back, so as to give a view of the next
room. but she suddenly allowed it to fall again.

“ Now look with all your eyes,“ she said, “ but
be careful how you do it. The show begins!”

Her words grated on HEDdl ickson‘s cars, and
with good cause. Making barely room enough
for observation he had been looking greedily,
and as Floralice Heath walked into the larger
room he experienced a peculiar thrill.

Yes, it was she: there could be no doubt about
it. No one that he had ever seen had those
peculiar attractions in so strong a degree, and
she seemed to shed light upon the somber, crime-
haunted old asylum. It was like a gleam of
sunshine in a place of darkness, but so incon-
gruous that he felt like rushing forward and be-
seeching her to leave at once.

But no; she was there of her own free will
and he must see the game to the end.

He noticed that her face did not bear itsusual
calm. dignified ex ression. There was a hard,
tense look about er mouth which made her
look older, sterner, and he was led to vividly re-
member the scene by the walls of the prison, the
convict and his imperious foe.

Miss Heath had taken a chair, but her gaze
was fixed on the door, and as it again opened '
Hendrickson looked eagerly to see who was com-
ing. What new revelation was at hand?

 

CHAPTER XII.
'rmc ASYLUM Piusosm.

A MAN entered the other room and Hendrick-
son lookad at him ea 'cl'l)‘. He was one to at~
tract attention. but in us present condition, not
one to admiration. He seemed to be of middle
age, and had a large, well-rounded, athletic
figure, but it was covered with most wretched
rags. Clearly they had long donc Service, but
thglt they would last much longer seemed impos-
e.

of his face. and this, like his long hair, was in
disorder and matted to a surprising degree. i

A wretched-looking object he was, and his 1 'fi

face had a hopeless expression like that of one
{who has given up the last grain of confidence in
ife.

The door was closed behind him b unseen
hands, and then he stood alone in ralicc’s
presence. She arose and they looked steadily at
each other. but his face gave no sign to indicate
whether he recognized her. ’

Floralice seemed to hesitate about speaking, a 

but as the silence grew oppressive she aid, al—
most hurriedly: .

“ I have come again. Byron Brooks.”

The man in rags bowed humbly.

“I hope you are well,” he said, in a low,

hoarse voice. ‘

“ What do you care whether I am or not?”

“ I want everybody to be well.”

It was a dull, stupid reply and the man, look- ,
ing at the floor only, to possess no more
intelligence than an ox. “

“ Are you tiring of your imprisonment here!”
abruptly demanded the visitor.

“ I am quite content.” '

“ Nonsense!”

“ I am well used,” he repeated.

'Floralice made an impatient gesture.

“ Drop such forms of speech. I understand
that it means nothing except that you have been?
drilled by the keepers of this place. Such ab-
surd statements may gain you favor with the
doctor when ordinary visitors are here, but you
need use no mask when talking, with me.
know me, don’t you, Brooks?”

“ I think ’twas you ,who ut 1116 here,” he 11-
swered. still looking at the cor, still apat ct .

“ Well. are you not tired of the place? onld
you not like to leave, to go out into the world
again as a free man!”

“ No, I am contented here.” a  5. 5

His ox—like answer seemed to anger the via—
itor. She madeanother impatient  ch

stupidit stood like a rock in the way of ob— t

ject tha brought her there.
“ Remember Eulalie!” she said.
The man started, raised his eyes and sighed.

“ Eulalie!” he whispered. as though addressing 

only himself.
before.” .,
The attentive watchers in the next room could
not see
silence she spoke in a doubtful voxce:
“Are you playing a part, or is your

“ Eulalic! I have heard thename

He raised one hand and b it simply

across his forehead, pushing back the nutth 

A thick brown beard covered the lower fart \

cup

I

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a...“

7 "

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F'loralice’s face. but after a moment of V {‘3-

giving way under the horrors of this lace?” " . y

   
   
    
  
  
 
 

 i

 11/
23'???” 
tr '

.1,

“.1 .

. regard to you, Miss

’ needs a strong arm to lean upon.

‘worku

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hair. Then he glanced suspiciously around and
lowered his voice until it was no louder than his
late whisper.

“ Are we alone?” he asked.

“ All alone.”

“Then I can remember more than I have for-
otten. It is not safe to remember when the
octor is around. M memory' is quite vivid in

eath. remember very
well the day when you brought me here. I was
ill almost unto death, and so feeble that I could
hardly lift my head. I could not resist. I was
brought here, and in this living grave I have
been ever since. Oh! es I remember you!”

Leah Lee pressed endrickson’s arm signifi—
‘cantly.

“ Perhaps you can remember other things
which I wish you to remember.”

“ What are they?"

“ Where is Eulalie?”

The man threw back his head and laughed
shortly, harshly, while a new gleam appeared
in his eyes.

“ Don’t you wish (you could learn?” he said,
almost tauntingly. ‘Don’t you wish you could
fincwier, and torture her as you have tortured
me

“ Madman!” Floralice excraimed, " you know
that no one else loves her as tenderly as I."

“ Aye, even as the hawk loves the dove. I
may be crushed by imprisonment here, and fast
becomin an imbecile, but in memory is vivid
in regar to the mat. Mercnful heavens! what
had that poor c ild done that you should hate
her so bitterly? What crime had she committed
against you? What was her offense, except
that she was as gentle as you were harsh and
unfeeli 0? And now you ask for her! I would
as soon elp the tiger seize his prey!”

The ragged man ke Vehemently, and Flor-'
alice recoiled from im. Again Leah pressed

I Hendrickson’s arm, and he to t that he was get-
tin all that he had been romised. No actual
Iig t had been thrown on loralice’s life, but it
seemed im ssible to longer believe her anything
but an evi , schemingrvzomanx

Yet she answered vely enough.

“ Every accusation you bring against me is
false. Poor Eulalie was the light of my heart,
and she would say even now if perm'tted to
geek. that I never even 8 e harsh] to her.

at where is she? What 3 the explanation of

, . that/epoch in your life which I could never pene-

trate? Where is Eulalie?”
’ “Beyond your reach. I hope,” the prisoner
answered, in a doe voice.

“I have come. yron Brooks to implore you
to break your reserve and confide in me. Eulalie
is not the person to fight the world alone. She
You are

werless to help her—tell me where ou left
Ear, so that I can trace and help her. ere are
times when I think that you are not all bad, and
if you can prove this, and will give me a clew to
u, I will try to” unravel the tangled
web of he past, free you from prison and Open
apewfuture to on. At least, do not deny me

claw to Eula 'e. The uncertainty surround-

" ,, her fate has imbittered all the later years of

v mhlife. Tell me where she is, I implore you!”
9 risoner folded his arms and looked steedi~
[y at t 6 speaker. His former humility, real or
married, was gone, and he looked strong, stern
» andg’ggressive.
, “ on can talk as sweetly as an angel,” he re-
torted, “ but 1 know that your tongue is like a
It stings through sweetness. Your
1 is all for not lug—for Eulalie’s lake, I re—
to tell where I last saw her. I have not
your past; I have not to otten the
woman who lur a heart-
oken conv1ct from his place of captivity, and
on, with the aid of a brute ally, threw him in
‘ the river to drown.”
“ sun incorrigible!” sighed Floralice.
“ Still sane, thank Heaven, despite the horrors
.of a mad-house!” he retorted.
' “ Why will you not escape those horrors when
 on have a chance? Tell me what I wish to
/ bw and you shall be free."
. , “ I decline.”
“ You prefer to stay here?"
11 Yes a

“ Thou ’shall stay!”
I, Miss oath 3221f angrily, and arose as she
sake, but she taken only one step away
hen she turned to him again. I
" I cannot hear to go an leave you here.”
“ I an) content.”
‘ .“ Has life lost all charms for you?”
“ Thanks to you. it has. "
" I believe you are, indeed. mad.”
“ Think what you will, only don’t come here
again. All your wheedllng is lost, and on can

t

I " neither coax nor frightenme into helpn you
’ to further revenge. Understand that, leave

- me alone.”
“Enough. then.” she rctorted. “You can

    

\

.1.

x
~ i

stay as long as you‘seeflt. You are i]; oof against
common sense; stay here if you w .

You can

, The prisoner bowed. moved toward the door
and left the room. As he passed out a stalwart

.  ’| man took his arm and closed the dmr behind

him and then he disappeared from view. )
ss Heath turned to one side of the room and

O

sharply pulled a green cord which dangled from
an o ning above.

“ he is calling for some one to show her out,”
said Leah Lee. “What do you think of her
now!”

"What can I think?”

“ Isn’t it a clear case?”

“ Alto ether too clear. That poor fellow look-
ed wretc ed enou h to unnerve any ordinary
criminal, but it did not seem to move her. Who
is, or was, this Eulalie, of whom she spoke?”

“ I”don’t know; some enemy of hers, I sup-

so.

“ She avowed a love for her.”

“ She was trying to wheedle the prisoner, but,
thank heaven, he was stron

her arts. I wish I knew the full meaning of this
affair. No ordinary uarrel could stir up such
a breeze. Miss ‘Florahce Heath must be a. queen

of female devils.”

The blunt, harsh speech grated on Hendrick-
son’s ears. He was still watching Floralice.
She stood in deep thought now, but the expres-
sion on her face seemed to be one of deep sor-
row. She raised her hand and brushed it across
her eyes. Tears? It seemed impossible. Tears
were incompatible with the hardness of heart
she had shown. ‘

“ Ineomprehensible!” he muttered.

“ She is waiting for some one to show her
out,” added Leah. “ The delay irritates her.
Ah! sherin again!”

Floralice id ring again, but no one appeared.
She had thrown off her meditative mood and
was im tient to go. Several minutes elapsed,
but stil her summons was unanswered. She
moved to the door and opened it.

As she did so a cloud of smoke swept into the
room. She recoiled for a moment as though it
stifled her, and than ran out and the half-closed
door concealed her from view.

Hendrickson looked suspiciously at the smoke
which was steadily entering the room.

“ I don’t like this,” he said, abruptly. “ Our
work is done; let us get away.”

There was a suspicion in his mind which he
did not see fit to express to Leah, but just then
a. current of air blew the door wide open. T133
saw a cloud of smoke, and beyond it was a r ,
quivering pillar of flame. '

“ Great heavens!” gasped the Gypsy girl;
“ the asylum is on fire!”

CHAPTER XIII.

. A DESPERATE FIGHT FOR urn.

THERE seemed no room to doubt this asser-
tion. The smoke, the red blaze, Floralice’s
flight—all pointed to one conclusion. The asylum
was on fire, and the flames seemed to have gain-
ed good headway.

Leah’s first exclamation had been one of dis-
ma , but her natural courage came to her aid
a she followed it up with a laugh.

“Let it burn !” she exclaimed. “The crazy
folks can wall be s ed, and we are near the
door; Come on! 1 on’t want to eat smoke and
fire. ’ .

Her confidence in their abilit to escape easily
gave her a reckless gaylety whic was unpleasant,
and as she ran away endrickson followed with
a frown and a troubled- look combined on his
face. To him it seemed a terrible thing for a

lace filled with nnreasoning human beings to
on e.

No smoke interrupted‘their regress and the
soon reached the small room It: the entrancg:
but the doorman was gone. No cue was on

rd. ‘
Eu: door of iron bars had been closed inside the
wooden one, and as Leah seized and tried to
open it, the fact became clear that It was locked.
“ It won’t open!” cried the girl, the indifi'erent
loo vanishing from her face. .
eudrickson laid hold of a bar and shook the

door. It proved to be firm. He glanced at the
windows. All were crossed by bars of unusual
thickness. .

“How are we to get outl”,demanded Leah,
wéio no longer saw anything laughable in the
a air.

“ Where are the keepers of the place!”

“I don‘t know, unless they’ve run away like
cowards, and left us to burn in this horrible

“ The doors are all closed--if they have gone,
it is a deliberate trap for us or some one else.
The question must be settled at once; Come
with me; the kee rs must be found. I Will
help them fight t e flames, but you must be al-
lowed to go at once.”

Hendrickson was aroused to the necessity of
Krompt action. He ran back to the room they

ad lately lets, followad by Leah. Still no signs
of human life were to be seen, but the smoke
was growia thicker.

He dash open another door and found him-
self in a large hall. There the air was laden
with smoke, but he scarcely heeded it.
the floor above came sounds of voices, and with
coherent orders were mixed wild yell: and
shouts. 1’

The employees Were evidently fighting the

 

flames. while the mad inmates expressal their

‘ excitement in cries which had little or no coher— ,

once. i
The detective could not remain inactive at

enough to resist ‘

I .
4 such a time, and he dashed up the wide stair-

way. It was toward the cloud of smoke and
i fire, but he would not remain inactive While hu~
man lives were in dan r.

He now saw the emp oyers in the corridor rap-
idly passing water in buckets to dash upon the
hottest of the fire, but his experienced eyes at
once told him that it was a waste of time, and
at a moment when every second of time was
precious. He ran forward among the men and
raised his voice in a clear shout:

“ Give up this useless work and attend to the
mad inmates. The asylum is doomed—look to
the human lives that are in danger!”

“ Hallo!” cried a burl fellow, who looked to
be a mere brute. “ ere’s one o’ the cranks
loose. At him, boys! hustle him back. or the old
man will give us a rakin‘ when he shows up.”

Several buckets went cluttering down, and
late holders turned upon Hendrickson.

“ Stop!” he cried; “ I am not a madman, but
a visitor here. Leave me alone—”

Further speech was checked, as several of the
men sprung upon him together. The idea of a
fight with them had not occurred to him, and
though his revolver was where he could easily
have drawn it at first be neglected to do so until
he found himself fuliyin the power of his as-
sailants. ‘

They then held him in such a vise-like manner
that he was utterly helpless.

 

“ Vacant cell right back of us!” called out
one. “ Chuck him in there, and we can change
him afterward, if he don’t get cremated.”

And despite his struggles and attempts to ex—
tlain, Hen ‘ckson was rushed across the cor-
ridor and flung headlong into a cell. He fell to
the floor, and when he arose the iron-barred
door was closed and locked, and the keepers had
returned to the battle with the flames.

had been mistaken for a lunatic, or, at least,
for a risoner, and as he had entered the asylum
secret y, it might have been hard in an case to
establish the fact that he ought to be a owed to

so. ,

Could he have seen his face then, he would
almost have wondered if he was really himself.
In the struggle with the men who had
fighting the fire it had become blackened that
he looked almost like a negro.

But it was not this that troubled him then.
If the signs of the times were reliable, he would
not be sub 'ected to any slow process of recog-
nition. e fire had gained such headway that
he did not see any possible chance of saving the
building, and the employees seemed inclined to
keep the ' nor» in their cells.

A ho 10 death now stared these unfortu-
nates in the face.

Hendrickson was subjected to the same dan-
gcr.

Unless he could escape, he bade fair to be
burned alive in the doomed building.

He laid hold of the bars of the door and shook
it with all his force. It resisted ever effort. It
had been made to defy the stro ‘ ' of raving
inniniacs, and the workman had made no mis-

e. .

The key had been left in the look, but as-it
was be 0nd in: reach, this counted for nothing.

He gIaneed eagerly along the corridor. For
a time he had forgotten Leah Lee. but he now
looked for her anxiously. He would have given
almost an thing to see her then, but the conclu-
sion was orced upon him that when be rushed

smoke and flamewere play? havoc.

Clearly, he was left to his. to. v /

The fire was making Mgr-gaging. The
building was old and had never _ n fire- roof
in as; degree. Now that the hre—ficn had
gain a hold, there seemed no hope Whatever-
of savin it.

Hendrickson had never taken part in a wilder,
more stupid scene. It was stupid because the,
keepers persistentl fought the flames when it
was clear that the r efforts should have been de-

voted to sav' the prisoners. .
And Wild! e prisoners, insane or sane, had
own ve much excited, and their cries made

. I: place ring with an uproar that seemed Band-

is .

The detective looked about the cell for nome-
thing with which he could attack the door, but
there was absolutely nothing that could‘he used.
He was perfectly helpless, and the rapid} -g‘ain-
infi fire sent clouds o smoke rollmg mto is cell
w ich almost stifled him.

He added his voice to than of the other pris~
oners.
It was not the naming (mtburst of fear
but a systematic attempt to Show some one that
a mistake had been made. _He might as Well
have talked to the walls of his cell; no one was
calm enough to y attention to him.

“ Fools! Bru

 

anger and disgust. “ Have they lost their heads
entirely? Do they want to sacrifice all these
helpless people?"

firm as ever.

Along through the corridor poured ‘the thith,
stifling smoke, and Hendrickson felt that he
i must soon succumb. It was a Very mockery

then that he had two revolvars hi his pockets.

The state of affairs alarmed the detective. He ‘

up the stairs she had refuhed to follow where. I.

l" he finally broke forthin/

Again he shook the cell door, but it was as' ,

 

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._._.--.r. 7.

He had come prepared to defend himself against
human foes, but not against the fire-fiend.

Suddenly a man rushed past his cell gesticu-
lating wildly and laughing at the top of his
veice.

This was no keeper: plainly, it was one of the
mad inmates, and Hendrickson’s hopes arose.
After all, some one had grown sensible enough
to begin this too-long-delayed work of freeing
the iinfortuuates.

Others followed the first, and he looked eager-
ly for the hand which should turn the key of his
own cell.

“'hen some one appeared he grew amazed.
He had expected to see a keeper and. great was
his surprise when he behel F‘lorahce Heath.
The work that they had neglected was being
done by her, and his turn had come at last.

Without a look into the cell the girl‘s hand
touched the key, but at that moment a brawny
keeper rushed out of the cloud of smoke and

(Ira ed her back. _

“ ere what are you dom’?” he shouted.
“Who the fiends are you who dares interfere
here?”

His face was full of fury and he raised one
hand as though to strike her, but with a quick
movement she escaped his grasp and ran again
to the door.

The brute sprung after her, but not agilel
enough to prevent her purpose. With a qnic
motion she turned the ke . Another moment
and the rufilan had seized er a ain.

“Curse you I” he cried, “ I’ll choke thch”

“ No, you won’t!”

It was a deep, cool voice, and Edgar Hen-
drickson thrust a revolver under the kee r‘s
nose. The fellow had been brine and head ong
enou h before that, but it took all the courage
out 0 him. He uttered a startled exclamation,
released Floralice and dashed awa at the top
of his speed. Only an effort had ept the de-
tective from striking him down, but he would
not be the cause of leaving the brute uncon-
scious to meet his fate.

Floralice was very pale, but she showed a
firmness which surprised Hendrickson. She
looked at him sharply though there was no
light of recognition n her eyes. The smut of
the fire still made his disguise 

“ Quick !” she exclaimed; “ i on have reason
enmigh, help me to rescue your allow prisoners.
They have been left to die. Help me to open
their doors, for mercy’s sake!”

“I will !”

He made the terse reply and hurried on by her
side. Door after door was unlocked and the in-
mates freed, until the corridor was full of rush-
ing, yelling madmen. Hendrickson, however,
never lost sight of Floralice. Hers was a brave,
devoted work, but the smoke was growing
aifiker and life was suspended with death in the

nce.

 

t. CHAPTER XIV.
DANGER FOLLOWS DANGER.
HENDRICKSON’ had been watching the p
of the fine as he worked, and as they reach the
end of the corridor and liberated the last pris-
oner he turned quietly to Floralice.

“There is no more time to lose. We must get _

from here I2: once or our lives will not be worth
‘ 00118. me take our arm. ,

.59 did paid the Eur-fled alongthe corridor,
disregarding the k .34 km Wm“ they
saw by the way. _It was the detecdve's purpose
to descend the stairs and force a way of mp9,
but as they reached the coveted c‘poim he 5'
that the stairway was one sheet mm The
fire had taken a sudden turn and, attacking at
the weakest point in a double sense, had cut on
all retreat in that direction. I

l.Iustl as thgydsmsilnayed by this discovery
a an gras e c son 8 am.

He turned and saw the woman with eyes.

“ Go to the upper floor!” she said, hurriedly.
'“ There is a fire-escape . Go at once i”

And then she darted away in the cloud of

' smoke.

Hendrickson threw his arm around F'loralice’s
waist and urged her to use every effort toes-
ca The smoke was beginning to overpower
them and he feared that she would faint. Their
situation was desperate and what was to be
done must be done quickly. .

He had marked die locau'on of thestairswhich

led above. and now hastened rapidly toward

. Them was some evidence as he want that
the pars hadlat lam taken action to save the
mad worsens. but thedetective thought on] of
EloraliCe. At that moment he forgot the k
sideof her life. She had shown great heroism
m 1191 the unfortunataa but her strength
{baggy wavering, and he almost carried her as

0 ' .
“ Have Counsel” he exclaimed. “ It isonly a
moment more. and then we will be safe.”
“ Leave me!” she “ You will only

‘ lose your own life in trying to save mine. Leave

"meat he forgot all save that he loved

Q ,.-.,   V} :f\.

me 1”

"Never!"

“ But we shall both‘die.”

“so be it. them. if it should happen so, 1 at
no more than to die With you 1”

He spoke vehemently. At that an meg».
l ' “,

 

den it as he mi ht in more practical moments,
he id not blind imself then.

There might be a cloud on her life, but he lov-
ed her.
Up the stairs they went, and he fought his
wa blindly forward. They collided with the
wa of the upper corridor. Where was the
door? Which way were they to go to find lib-

ert ?

Ila! a door at last, and he staggered forward,
almost carrying Floraliee. He had the presence
of mind to close the door behind them. It stop-
ped the rush of fresh smoke, and that already in
Elbe room began to drift out through the win-

ow.

Hendrickson hastened to that point and looked
out. It was along distance to the ground, and
at first they seemed to be in a more hopeless
position than ever. Glancing at one side, how-
ever, he saw the welcome fire-escape. It was at
the next window.

Something else was to be seen. however.

Two persons were making their way slowly
toward the fire-escape, walking on the window-
caps. It was most pecarious footin , and a
single false step would haggrecipita them to
the ground below—to alm certain death.

Strangest of all one of these rsons was a
slight, delicate-l g woman, w ile the other
was a man who bore a child in his arms.

Almost any one else was more to be expected
than such a trio; they seemed out of place in or
near the asylum.

Even as he looked, the woman reached the
balcony of the fire-escape, and in a moment
more t 9 man joined her. Then the descent was
begun. A hand was laid on Hendrickson’s arm.
The Ipure air had restored strength and courage
to loralice, and she looked out with calm,
steady eyes.

“Let me go,” she said. “ I can reachthe fire-

escage.”
“ ut a fall would—”

“ I shall not fall. Let me go."

And she resolutely began the attempt.

Hendrickson had never felt himself more help-
less. It seemed a mad attempt. though he had
just seen others succeed. But all people had not
steady heads and good judgment. "Floralice
mi ht fall, and then——

9 shivered as he saw her begin the attempt.
It was a narrow frail footing, and few, indeed,
would .have ri it even with life at stake.
Hendrickson almost held his breath as he
watched her. What would be the result?

Step by step she went on, steadily nearing
the spot of safety, and then—'oy flashed over
him as he saw her gain the cony. She had
shown courage worthy of a traditional heroine.

Then he made haste to follow. For him it
was a feat less risky. He had often tested his
head in elevated places, and though he found the
footin precarious he made the journey in safety.
Flo ce was alread descending the fire-escape,
and he promptly to owed. -’

he went dawn he saw that the late prison-
ers were at liberty and rushing blindly about
while up the avenue came various engines and
other fire-vehicles at a gallop. The scene was
as wild, if not as dangerous as ever. .

[gage more on the ground he looked sharply
a u

, e thought of Leah Lee, who, he felt, had
some claim upon him, but she was not to be

seen.
Ought he to remain and make sure she had

escaped?

He glanced at Flo ce. Now that they had
escaped the fine she ooked pale and worn out.
It occurred to him that measures would soon be
taken to secure the prisoners, and if they re-

_ there was no knowmg What trouble they
would get into. If the asylum was as bad ashad
been represented, sane people were no safer there

than mad ones. . -

The sooner the were away the better.

He turned Floralice.

“ Imt us go while we can," he said.

“ You are right,” was her quick re 1y. “ This
place sickens me, and I long to be orever be-

yond sight of it.”

As she spoke she started at a quick walk to-
ward the road, and he followed beside her. Thus
far she had not r him. He hoped she
would not. If she new that he was on the
scene she could not help ting that he had
followed her there. Not know that the smut
on his face was equivalent to a isguise, be ex-
pocteddiscovery: but he would not desert ha'
until her safety was assured.

Criminal though she might be, she was still—
Floralicel

It was not a long walk to the ire. to which
led to the road, but as they ad toward it.
Hendrickson saw that brawny men were on
guard there. Clearly, they had been posted to
ernt the asylum prisoners from leaving.

ould they allow other persons to 0?

He felt that this would not be one without
vexatious delay, and as a fireengine moved to-
ward the ate he had a sudden idea.

Could t ey not pass while the engine was
going? through, by taking advantage of its
cover - «

He tried the experiment and it succeeded to a
charm. They passed I yout. Several vehi-

l

 

cles Were standing close at hand, and his quick
eyes marked me as a public carriage.

Better than all the rest. it was empty.

He moved to the driver’s side and placed a
five-dollar bank-note in his hand.

“ Take us to the dewt immediately,” be said.

It was a generous fare. and the man promptly
decided to take it. He could see his passengers
but dimly, but supposed them to be escaped
prisoners. Plainly, they were not violent, and
if he could earn the five dollars he would.

“ Get in I” he said, tersely.

The direction was obeyed, the carriage-door
slammed together, and away they went. Hen-
drickson’s spirits arose, but they were speedily
dashed down. He heard a shout behim them,
and, looking around, saw another vehicle dash-
ing. after them. '

be supposed “ escape ” had been discovered.

What was to be done? He, at least, had en-
tered the asylum secretly. and it was likely that
those who had treacherously admitted him
would stoutly deny the fact.

To step would be to risk trouble, to be sub-
jected to longedela . and very likely Flomlice’s
name Would made public. Instead of order-
ing a halt, he called to the driver:

‘ Go on! Outstrip those fellows, and you
shall have another five. ”

“ My Lord Duke, you’re a tram ,” returned
the man of the reins. “If I’ve go the horse-
flesh to beat them, consider it done!”

And then his whip whistled through the air _

and fell smartly on the sides of his horses. They

nded gallantly, and went shooting away in
the darkness at full speed. But in the rear
thundered the pursuers, and no one could tell the

result. Barring accidents, all depended on the
speed and endurance of the res tive horses.

“ Who are our pursuers?” oralice quietly
asked. I

“ That I don‘t know.”

“ Are you one of the asylum emplo ees?”

He caught at the idea and replied t t he was.
The darkness was in his favor and as he saw
that she had entirely recovered her coolness, he
took care to disguise his voice. '

“ This has been a terrible night,” the girl add-, ,1, 7,:

ed, with a shiver.

“ You are right.”

“ Do you know the time?”

“ It is about midnight, I think.”

“ I wish I could catch the 12:5 train.”

Hendrickson prompllglr consulted his watch as
they seed a street p. The result showed
that t ey would just about catch the train it

the continued at their present headlong pace, 

the ursuem did not prevent.
He loo ed back anxiously. The second car-
riage was coming at what seemed winning
, but after watching it for a moment he
ecided that the chances were about even. Bofii
arties were making remarkable aged.
orses were at a gallop, and the vehic bounced
over the vemeiit almost like rubber balls.
The de tive was ill at case. He was very
anxious to get away from the place without any
unpleasant explanations, but even if they held
their own, the lead was so slight that any delay
at the depot would bring the pursuers down up
on them.
Who were the pursuers? Prison officials, pro-
bably; perha officers of law. In any case
they were maEing the race a hot one, werefully

in earnest, and would make themselves obnox-
ious if given a chanco. 5 ‘

Silence now reigned in the lead‘ ca

The ’-‘

The detective did not cape to talk, lest he should  IA.— 2 ‘1
to be "3“ ~

reveal his identity, and Floralice seemed
in deep the ht.

On went rival racersat tbesame mad pace,
and the dc t was near at hand. But where
was the 12: train! Hal as hinanswerto
the uestionthec ofabelbecameaudi-
his a vs the noise the wfiagaandtheunin
drew u at the d

Wou d they catch it?

Hendrickson thrust more money into thsdiiv-

er’s hand, and they rounded a corner at break, .
and came toahalt. Hendrickson ,.
helped Floralice out. Then he glanced back. 1 «
There was wreck atthocornertbey had justleft. '

neck speed

The gunners, less fortunate than the , had been
libemsel maid
was up were astemng .
Andthetralnwas inmoflon; it was lea
the depot. Floralice uttered a c of disma .
“ Quick i” exclaimed Hendric n. “
forward and prepare to catch at the last car. I.
willhekiyou on—ttisouronlyhopef"

CHAPTER XV.
m vacuum or momma.
Ir was a moment of thrilling suspense, and
the chances seemed f against the 31035
the

 

people, but both re ' their coolness
judgment remarkably. The last car of

train reac

hand and the rod, Hendrickson -

his strength and raised ha- to the platform .
Then he sprung after her. ,  ~
Another moment and the train was and

Hendrickson, looking back, had the of 

peeing their pursuers chase them several rods

One more danger wps safely

down the track and then give up g attempt, ..

themen ad icked -‘_;

bed them, and, as Floralice putupher'.‘

n-  

 

 

 
  

' swer.

’ Don’t say you are m

,.’win

,. i" lmain did
' wusual

12

Old Baldy.

 

 

 

_._..__a.~.

His next care was to keep out of Floralice’s
sight so as to prevent recognition. She was
safely on her train and started for Buck Basin,
and as it was not likely she would be molested
further, he could well leave her alone. He did
not want her to know he had been playing the
spKIupon her. ,

uttering some excuse be promptly left her
and went to the smoking-car. There be dis-
covered that his face still bore a good deal of
smut, and proceeded to get rid of it. Neither
he nor Floralice had attracted unusual attention;
those who had seen them take the train had sup-
posed them late arrivals, while their pursuers
were merely supposed to have missed the train
altogether.

Hendrickson sat down in the smoking-car and
gave himself up to thought. He was on his
way back to Buck Basin, but not in an enviable
mood. What he had seen and heard at the

lum troubled him eatly. What was he to
think of Floralice oath? He remembered
Byron Brooks, the man of rags and disheveled
hair, and could not avoid a shudder. Fair as
was her face, he could not find an explanation
of her conduct which cleared her from blame.

Anon he thou ht of Leah Lee. What had be-
come of her? n his devotion to Floralioe, the
Gypsy girl had been forgotten, and his con-
science now re ched him.

He had last seen her in the burning building.
Betcha: escaped, or fallen victim to the confla-

MICE.
“If the former, she might be on the same train,
and he arose and passed into the next car. He
had gone but a few steps when his name was
. renounced. There was the dusky irl of the
yramids, and she eagerly motioned im to sit
down beside her. He obeyed.
“ I did not know that you were on the train,”

she said.

“ I ust made it.”

Lea shivered.

“ Ugh! what a night it has been! ’Tis seldom
I lose my nerve. but flre always terrifles me.
Still, I should not have deserted you altogether
so unceremoniously had it not been for an ad-
venture I had after leavin you. A' madman
pursued me, vowing that he been command-
ed to sacrifice me to the fire, and when I did _ et

' out, I had no desire to remain longer. Besi es,

ou had seen what I took you there to see.” -
She looked at him slyl , but he did not an-
Then she slow] a ded:
‘ “ What do you thin of Miss Heath now?”

“ I can have no loft? opinion,” he answered,
not carin to be explici .

“I too you there ” added Leah, “to show

on that there are r women than Floralice

“Yourself, for instance.”

He intended it as banter to avoid serious
comment on the subject of, Miss Heath, but
Leah started and laid her hand on his, at the
same time looking into his face with a strange
ex ression.

‘ Do youreally think sol” she asked.

“ Why should I think otherwise?”

This time he tried to make his jesting mood
more up rent, for he was suddme growing
afraid o the beauty of the P ramids but she
was too much in earnest to him ar ght.

“Edgar Hendrickson,” she said, in a concen-
trated voice, “ if you will think well of me, you
will make me the applest woman alive!"

The young man stafied.

“ Of course I think well of you but—”

“ I don’t mean in any cold, calculating way.
friend. I hate the word!
Let there be no be] -way work in dealing with
me. What I want is your Lovn !”

’Vehemently she made the declaration, and

' Hendrickson felt as though he had been

‘; , / s cken by a serpent. He felt a strong impulse
,  = to flee precipitatoly. Leah was hoverin over
‘ . him like a hawk above its prey, and he fe

i3;

 fectl helpless. He could only repeat her
‘ word- in a feeble way.
' “I may seem to you almost like anew ac-

quaintance,” she wanton, “ but it is not so. We
have been near each other in Back Basinfor
months. I have seen you almost dail . Often

your hotel merely to have a g impse of
you. Very seldom did you look at me, but I
was there, and my love grew day by day.”

“ I did not so it.”

“ No, you were blind, like all men. No wo—
man is ever loved but she knows it. And I—I
know you do not love me yet, but I live with
hope in my heart. I have shown you how un-

' worthy Floralice Heath is, and how much I

want you to love me. I would die for you; let
me at least know that I may live and hope to
‘ our heart. Your love is earth, heaven,

all, to me!”
not raise her voice much above its
tch, but it was full of vehemenoe. Her
whole rt was in her plea. She was no cold,
straightrlaced, flnioal daughter of fashion, but a
he demanded the right to speak when

I ‘ lharinteresiswereatstake.

She had spoken, as Hendrickson knew to his

scrim.
He quickly recovered his outward com re,
for no man can long be cast down by the owl-

' edge that a woman loves him, but there was

\ .

 

lurking shadow in his mind which made him
shrink from Leah Lee.

She had shown her hand. Her motive in
making him acquainted with Floralice’s inner
life was plain. Revenge was at the bottom of
it all. He now became aware that she was a
dangerous woman, and he wished he had never

seen her; never accompanied her on this jour- '

ne .

XMy dear girl,” he replied, “I am really
sorry to hear you say this. I am grateful to
you, for you have shown me kindness, but I
don’t care to have any woman love me. I have
decided to live single."

“ Since when did you decide?”

“ Since when l”

“ Yes.” i

“ I don’t understand.”

“ Before I revealed Floralice Heath’s real
character to you. you were strong in your de-
sire to marry her.’

“ Nonsense! I never had a thou ht of it.”

“ You can’t deceive me. I may poor, and
only a Gypsy, but I have 9 es of m own. I
use them, too. You love loraliee eath. I ;

won’t reproach on, for she has thrown all her
arts about you, ut I have shown you how fool-
ish your love is. Only for me she would have
had on hung by the l nchers.”

“ You stil persist n saying that she thinks
me a detective 01] her track?”

6‘ Yea."

“ Why should she do so? How do you know
what you alle e?”

“ I can’t to the source of my information.
Don’t ask too much. I have warned you; I have
shown you my heart. Now leave me and think
the matter over. It is one o’clock already; come
to me in the morning.”

Hendrickson was glad to get away in any
form, and he obeyed the first part of the order
as uickly as he could and not show undue re-
cipitation. He had seen uito en h of iss
Leah Lee and although idle had pro bly once
saved his ife, it was now almost equally certain
that she would be a stumbling-block in the way
of his future inVestigations.

Net is more dangerous than a woman
who sets erself to work to make trouble.

 

Buck Basin again. The trio, whose fortunes
we have last followed, were all back. Miss
Heath and the girl of the ramids had come
on the same tram, though no in company, and
the former had not seemed to notice Leah at all.
One went over from Oaktree in a carriage; the
other went on foot. .

The followin orning Hendrican appeared
at his old haunis. He had been anxious avoid
all suspicion that he had been dogging Floralice,
and had waited accordingly.

During the days he had been away there
had been one matter of importance which oc-
curred.

In speakin of Shaffer Knight, the agent who
had come to uck Basin once too often, mention
has been casually made of his fellow-agent,
Ebenezer Pray.

The latter was now at the hotel. and he soon
took measures to make Hendriclnwn’s acquaint-
ance. His particular attention was due to the
fact that he had something to say. and that
Hendrickson stood apart from the ordinar men
of the town because of the fact that he (1 d not
labor for a living, and, in Pray’s opinion, was
their social and intellectual su .rior.

Pray, himself, was a man 0 fifty years, very
tall, very thin, very melancholy of visage, and
noted for possessing a heart more or less like
flint. He could, however, act the gentleman,
and he tooks pains to be agreeable to Hendrick-
Ion.

“ By the way,” he said, after some conversa-
tion, ‘did you ever see my co-worker, Shaffer
Kni ht?” »

“ es; he was atthehotel once since I have
here” I

“ When was this?”

“ A month, or such a matter, ago.”
. “ Not since?"

“ Not to m knowledge.”

“ Aheml r. Knight is missing.”

“ Mining?”

“ Yes. have learned that he started toeome
to Buck Basin some (lags agp. I have even
tracedhimtoOaktree,were hiredahorse
and carriage to cane on here. The horse found
its way back to its quarters before morning
Epite lame. Thedriver has notsince been heard

Mr. Pra looked more melancholv than ever
ashe m 0 this announcement. He had been
three da in Buck Basin, and had inquired
right left for the missing man. No trace of
him could be found.

“This is somewhat singular,” Hendrickson

observed.

“Very. Amanstartefrom Oaktree forthis
51:09. He never here. He disappears on

way. What s the natural inference?"

“ Had Mr. Knight money. and What was his
business in coming here?” endrickson asked.

“On these points all is conjecture. I do not
believe that he had any money of «maequence.
His business here I do not know. I have been
trying to learn, but there is no clew. At the

I

, .
point from which he started it is said that he re.
ceived a letter and left hastily. I argue that

3 there was that in the letter which brought him

; there, or started him, but no one here will ad-

, mit writing it.”

“ Allow me to ask your theory, sir?"

“Foul pla ’l”

Mr. Pray irought his jaws tooether with a

‘. snap after these words, and loo 'ed decidedly
wolfish.

“ Do you suspect the guilty parties?"

“ Allow me to put a question ahead of yours,

: Mr. Hendrickson. You are a non—resident here,

and, of course, will regard the matter only in

that common light of justice which makes

; human life sacred. Allow me to ask if you have

‘ seen any sign which would give you a suspicion

J in the case!”

“ I regret to say that I have not. Besides, a
murderer would take care not to show any
signs.”

“ Humphl Suppose it was a matter that com
cerned the whole town?”

“ How could it?”

“ You don’t seem well posted. Shaffer Knight

. was hated here because he was a landlord’s
agent. .May not the whole. town have combined
to kill him? That’s the question to be solved,

. and I am going to do it. I will find Shaifer’s

' assassin and hang him!”

CHAPTER XVI.
FOUND DEAD.
THE passing}:3 days had not brought peace and
; happiness to rigadicr Baldy. 0n the contrary
the additional lines which people noticed in his
“ kindly face did not indicate except in a mild de—
gree the tumult which was in his mind.

Those about him did not notice anything un-
usual in his manner. He was as kind, genial
and sympathetic as ever. If any one brought
his, or her, trouble to the Old Brigadier, it found
the same careful attention as of old. Nothing
in his outward life indicated new trouble.

Yet, every hour ‘was torture to the veteran.
He was living under a load which tortured him
more than that old wound by which he had
reason to remember the stormy days of the
war.

The death of Shafl‘cr Knight had changed the
whole current of his life, and he believed that
he knew how intentional murderers felt. He
could not bring himself to take a lighter view of
the case. He persistently overlooked the fact
that Kni ht’s own fierce temper had led him in-
to troub e, and merely argued that if he had
not stopped t agent on the bridge, or had gone
to his aid w en he called for help, Shafl‘er
Knight would then be alive.

He felt himself a murderer, and whats Weight
it was upon his mind no one else could have im—
agined. He might have lived all his life in the
midst of crime without feeling the contempt
born of familiarity. To him crime was never
gas than crime, and—he felt himself a mur7

erer. '

The blow penetrated deeply to his kindly
healrt, and he felt that his cup of bitterness was
ful .

Then came Ebenezer Pray. with his prying
e was and'qluestions. Shaffer Knight was mis-
sng. He ad last been seen when he started
from Oaktree for Buck Basin.
reached the village.

We have heard the reasons which led the 01d
Brigadier to keep Knight’s fate secret at the
time. Many of these reasons now fell away,
but he felt that it was too late to tell anything.
He had remained silent several days: to tell the
sto now would cominly‘be to be disbelicved.

E newer Pray became the haunting shape of
Brigadier Baldy’s life. The tall, lank form and
melancholy faoeof the agent seemed omnipre-
sent. He was very much in earnest in his in—
vestigations, and the Brigadier saw him only
too often. .

Est was nearly night of the day when Pray and

He had never

Hendnckson sat on the hotel lava
vii] , with h s eyes
' look on his

when a be came into the
mixture] y large and a

Plainly he was very much excited, and when
he was as ed the cause thereof he told a story
which made his mood contagious. .

There was a dead man down by the river, he
said; a man who was lyin in the grass near
the river-bank, stiff and . Who it was the
boy did not know. He had been frightened, and
had promptly run away.

The news spread WW. and {1 party was
soon made up informs y to investigate, one of
the number Mr. Ebenezer Pray. He
could not help ha a su icxon as to the iden-
tity of the dead man an the set expression
about in mouth troubled the villagers.

went to the mer under the quance of
l theboy. He led them straigbtto w re a soli-

 

tary tree spread its branches over the stream. '

A bird of prey, which wasrestin on one branch,
arose sluggishlv as the approac ed and retreat-
ed toward the Py'rami s. '
Reaching the bank they  There was
I no longer use for the boy: a l plainly saw what
ltheyhad come to see. The body ofaman lay
there, his face concealed by the ss and the
arm which was thrown upward. ey were in

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the presence of death, and the settlers exchanged
disturbed glances. They recognized the body,
and saw the shadow of deeper trouble cast over
Buck Basin.

Ebenezer Pray was the calmest man there.

“ Turn him over!” he said, quietly.

They obeyed, and the rays of the setting sun
fell upon the Set face of Shafl’er Knight. This
was the end. They were in the presence of
death. and if there was any one to mourn ‘for
him as a man, that one was not in Buck Basm.

He had been a hard, grasping, unfeeling man,
but as an agent they would gladly have seen
him alive. One look at Ebenezer Pray’s face
was enough to show that he would rigidly 1n-
vestigatn the tragedy, and they feared that the
weight of his anger would fall heavdy on Buck
Basin. There had often been threats made
against Shaffer Knight. These threats might
now recoil on those who had made them.

Pray knelt beside the body and began to
search for the cause of death, but his investi-
gation amounted to nothing.

There was a slight bruise on Knight‘s head, in
the edge of the hair, but no bullet or knife-
wound. Neither was there any discoloration of
the neck. to show that he had been stranglcd.

Pray was )uzzled. He had definitely settled
in his mind that his late ally had been killed by
the men of Buck Basin because they hated him
as a landlord. But how bad it been done?

He searched the dead man’s pockets. About
twenty dollars was found in one place. and in
another a package of pa rs. This Was all.
Pray put the papers carefu l away, and direct-
ed the men to get means 0 carrying the body
to the hotel. .

No one thought of opposing him. No oflicer
was on the spot, but if there had been the agent’s
orders would doubtless have been as promptly
obeyed. Buck Basin dared not oii’end the man
who held the town in the hollow of his hand.

Within an hour the body was at the hotel, and
all the people knew of the discovery. The ' call-
ed it a murder. Thus far there was no eVidencc
that violence had been done, if the bruises be
excepted, but Pray had pronounced it murder,
and that settled the matter.

Brigadier Baldy heard of it in a commonplace
way. Sitting at the open window, be ever-
heard one man tell another. They passed on,
talking busily, while the Old Brigadier sat alone
in the twili ht and seemed to bend before the
blow like a oath-stricken flower in the hot sun.
The revelation had come at last. The body was
found; there Would be an investigation: and—

The old man arese and began pacing the
room. lVliat was he to do? Could he go and
look upon that dead face? To stay away might
be to arouse speedy suspicion, but he felt that it
would be more than he could bear to go and see
the man who had died in Arrow River—died
calling to him for help he never received.

From the lower rt of the house came a shrill,
peevish voice. larence Webber was ' there,
with more liquor aboard than was good for him,
and his vigi ant mother had discovered some
new slight heaped b ' somebody upon her hope—
ful offspring. Tha “somebody” was being
soundly abused at a distance by the Virago.

“And this is my home!” said the Old Briga—
dier. With a deep, quivering sigh. “There will

, none of my own blood, nor in my own house-
hold. to mourn it the hand of law falls upon
.me.” ' ,

A heavy knock sounded at theoutar doom

The Brigadier started nervously, and then
went to the window.

“ Only Evan Conrad,” he said, with a, look of
relief. “ But I wish even he would not come
here now.”

There was a little delay, and then young
Conrad, tall, broad-shouldered and man] ,
entered. He did not wait, as usual, for t e
,Brigadier’s kindly ‘ng.

“ Have you hea the news?"

“ About Shafler Knight?"

The calmness of his inquiry surprised the.

Briggdier.
(I es.”

“ I merely heard two men mention it as they
passed the house,” the veteran answered.

“ What do on think of it?"

“ I have no investigated yet.”
- “ Well, Pray is investigating, and you are
at the hotel.”
by Brigadier Baldy did not turn pale is a

‘ mystery, for his heart seemed like lead; but his

florid face remained the same as ever.

2  8g I wanted?”

)8 in toallofusthatPra nus ts
that his Eallow agent was killed—minder?th—
simply because he was such a hard man with
1119 tenants here. All his words pointto that
conclusion, and I have been asked to come here

and request your ”
c; What can 1110135836008 to stem the tide.

“You have the mesyt
form of qxpression of any of our citizens In
emergenmes the P901319 need a leader and the
able men should go to the trait. Pray is plainly
bound to give us an ill name: the tation of
being murderers; and it is our one mom wish
that you go to the front and stand as a bulwark
1 the curse he would lay in us.” ‘
Brigadier Baldy stood in damfldlieuce. Why

l mind and ready

.1 \

- i,» /

was be selected for this task? \Vhy had they
trusted to have their innocence proved by the
only man who was guilty? It was an odd
chance, but the idea of facing the dead man
was something which almost stunned the Old
Brigadier.

For a moment he hesitated, but it occurred to
him that if the people of Buck Basin were to be
proved innocent, he was the man of all men to
'o it.

He knew the strong and weak points of the
case.

“ I will go,” he said, simply.

During the walkto the hotel Conrad explained
the points thus far discovered, and said that a
doctor had just been sent for when he left.
When they arrived the doctor had just finished
an examination and stated the cause of death——
drowning.

“ But the bruise on the head?” urged Pray.

“ May have been caused by a fall.”

“ From whe e?”

“ Not necessarily from any great distance.
Had he simply stumbled and struck against any
hard object, the bruise might thus have been
caused.”

“ Would not a. blow from an assassin hand
have made a similar bruise?”

“ It might.”

“ And then the assassin might have thrown
the body into the river?”

1 ‘:,Yes, though the man was alive when thrown
11.

At this moment Brigadier Baldy passed

through the group and stood beside the deceased.

CHAPTER XVII.
BUCK BASIN’S CHAHPION.

THOSE who saw the Old Brigadier then thought
that he had never looked calmer or more noble.
Ho gazed at Shaffer Kui ht’s set face gravely,
but with nothing to in icate what was in his
mind. His calmness su rised himself. Before
this unfortunate affair his whole life had been as
open as day. He had thought himself incapable
of subterfuge or double-dealing.

Nature, however, now furnished a mask for
his face, and there was nothing to indicate the
horror with which he looked on the deceased.

“Well, Benmarsh,” said Pray, “you see that
my mispicions are corroborated.”

‘ What suspicions, Mr. Pray i”

“ Foul lay."

“ Has t is been proven?”

“How can it be Otherwise? Shaffer Knight
was not the man to drown himself.”

“ The doctor has said that it may be an acci-
dent.”

“ Nonsense!
cur it”

“ There have been other cases of drowning in
Arrow River.”

“ That proves nothing. Knight came to Buck
Basin on business. He was never a favorite
here. Men hated him because he carried out his
employer‘b orders, and secured justice for his
em loyer. If I can once learn the business
which brought him to this town, I believe I can
name his assassins.”

The assertion fell heavily upon the Old Briga-
dier. If those who had brought the agent there
by means of the lie about Evan Conrad were to
tell their story again, a bad aspect would be
given the case. And as the lie had been told out
of revenge, what hope was them~ that it would
not be repeated? -

“There is no one here who would stoop to
murder a. man simply because he was Sinclair
Rhodes‘s agent," the 1d B ier asserted.

“ No ordinary criminal di the deed.”

“ Hm do you know?”

Tl;;fi1{uiglxt;'s laggey was left safely in his pocket.
. proves revenge, not pecuniary gin,

crimson". ‘
n my . 1 seems rather to r be

thee? of simple accident.” p on t

“ "on seem to have elected yourself spokes-
man. ' Pray. pehuanuy. “ Now tell me
how an accident could have caused this.”

The men of Buck Basin looked eagerly at
Brigadier Baldy. They had unanimousl re-
quested him _ to act as their champion. What
could he say in their behalf?

“Ayery reasonable theory an gests itself to
my mind, the veteran answe , in a low but
steady Voice. ‘ Knight left Oaktree with a horse

 

How could such an accident oc-

and carriage. What is more reasonable than to
suppose that, as he was crossing the b over
Arrow River the horse became frighten , shied,

overturned the carriage and threw his
out. Knight’s head may have struck against
the end of the bridge. causing the bruise and
stunning him as he fell to the water. He would
then have been easily drowned and his body
would have». straight course to float to where it
was found. Such an accident might also explain

hoghthe horseibefiame lame. ”
ecrow 00 ed at theBri dierin ' yful
rise. He had shown his pofirful miiio. by
eve ving an explanation which seemed to them
as conclusive.’ What need was there of further
investigation? . v
czar Pray, hoWeyer, sneeer pemeptibly.

driver

 

“In this casethe horsew nl h mired
' gird: frcm Buck‘Basin, and  that way.
e‘wu several miles froiu  Was he

\

 

likely to have taken a long journey when a short .
one was before him?”

“Horses are incapable of reasoning, but in-
stinct will lead them home. As for the way he
was ‘headed,’ if he was frightened it is very
likely he wheeled on the bridge the first thing,
and ran toward Oaktree.”

Brigadier Baldy was surprising himself b his
readiness at argument. He had never n
aware that he possessed gifts in that direction,
and, standing there in the presence of the dead,
his energies seemed» almost palsied, but be some- =‘
how managed to find words to support the point 5‘»
he had taken. .

“ That’s all very well,” said Pray tartly, ,
“ but you are arguing to no purpose. here was .
no accident. Shaffer Knight was murdered,
and 1 am going to prove it!”

So saying he turned abruptly away and the
discussion closed.

The men of Buck Basin were somewhat
troubled by his last words, but they thought
that Brigadier Bald had made a strong point,
and all insisted en te ling him so.

“ I‘Ve want you to back up youro inion,” said
one, s kin for the whole. “ Knight was
never arm by anybody here for the reason
Pray gives, but 6 is determined to have it that
he was, and we need a strong, clear head to lead
us. You are just the man, for even Pray must
re. you.” V

ver man seemed determined to harp upon 
the 01 Brigadier’s eminent r ctability, little  "
knowing how their words soun ed to him. ,_ 

He was not anxious to be near the place, so he
started home. Outside he was accosted by
Edgar Hendrickson. The latter had been ab-
sent from the village several hours, and had ~  I
only just returned. One of the men had ex. “ 9

lained the new cause of excitement, and as the
rigadier came out, Hendrickson joined him
and they walked away together.

 

“The tell me that Pray is looking forthe 
cause 0 Knight’s goumey this way.” ‘ 1A.;
“Yes, Mr. Hen rickson.”  5-1:}

“ Has it occurred to you that it was the same
ni ht of Evan Conrad’s wedding?”

he Old Brigadier started.

“I believe you are right,” he said in a low
veice. ‘

“ Somebody ought to know if he had particu- ‘
lar r ason for coming there.” , .

5‘ Ya.”

“ It also occurs to me that those who were at ~
the wedding will have a chance to prove air .v ‘
alibi.” .

it Yes.” 7 ‘ ,-

Bri ier Baldy was not at the Wedding; he’ i "
woul not have such a chance. x; i ‘

“0n the whole, though. this would amount -; 
to but little,” Hendrickson thoughtfully added. 
“ If Knight left Oaktree at the stated time, and
drove at the usual speed, he should haVe been
here before the hour of the Wedding.” -

m; The accident probably happened before
t.

“ The ‘ accident.’ True; it is our position that -
Knight died because of an accident. Yet it may
have been murder.” ‘. ‘

“Possibly so.”

“ There are men about here capable of such a “ a

deed, as I well know.” ,_
lynchers, - .L
Venture, .

   
 
       
   
   
    
  
  
   
 
 
  
  
  
   

.‘Q

Hendrickson had reference to the
but as he had never mentioned this Id
be was not understood by the Brigadier. .

“ I hope suspicion will'not fall upon an one.” ’

“If I read Ebenezer Pray ri htly will
have somebody in the toils before iong.” ‘

This was not comfortin to the Bri diet ' i,
when he reached the bongo he had 'tfle‘dm 2‘ '

tite for supper. Mrs. Benmaish had
tosay about the tragedy, and she took strong .
unds in favor of Knight. He had been a“
rd man, but murder was wrong, and. in
110 some one would hang for it. ' . ‘.
ebher was sikfnt for some time, and than .56 ’3
snedlefnllivnight hm voife' rd " i
was rea mu cred he on]
what he deserved, and vie are well, rid elm
The batthing BuckBasincandonow latch-op
ma‘i’flifim‘l rpnsed
' mot er looked su ' bu an»
usual, she turned like a weatheme howt'that ' I, 
she knew her son’s mind, and was neverheanito i- ;
sympathize-with the dead man again. i v ’
indefati-  — /

Ebenezer Pray continued his work
gubly. He had the instincts of a detective; ,- -
whether he pessessed the ability to ‘  ..
rectly, and separate the tnie‘from  ’  " : .
mainstobeseen.  "

He tcok charge of everything, ruled the vi]- 7 ,1.
loge doctor and officials as he saw fit, and found -. 
absolutel no one to his course. But hé
Misha morethan acerxni ht had ‘
been. The latter had had the all charged ‘
Buck Basin and Pray had been there but" once a
before. but he would probably be their master; J 
in future, and was opening the campakn by: . ,
trying to prove one of them a murderer. ‘ » av

Nobody knew whom he would accuse, but 
from the knowindgle of his methods, the people 
were not sure but 9 could accum any one and
hang them, $311!? or ' hath   .

. pne, waver, was ‘ a '
the bulk of the population. yummy I ‘ -

When Pray went to his room that night,“ i

a

\ ’ 3"-

 
   

 in the village would have

 

J, timeto time made her fear him.

 rame evening 0
‘ ' saw Brian there.

 looked pleasant and f endl

~ I on the news.

w
M .

. libero.”

. f_ become fixed on his face.

 

14:

Old Baldy.

 

 

 

oughly tired out, he was surprised to see on the
floor a small stone with a piece of white paper
attached with a string. He picked it up and
found that the white paper was a note addressed
to himself.

1' The few lines which it contained were written
in a stiff, curious hand, which bore every evi-
dence of being laboriously disguised, and were
as follows:

“ You say you wantto know what business brought
Shaffer Knight to this town. Has it occurred to you
as b 'ing significant that on the same n' ht one of

our tenants, Evan Conrad, was married ‘ A word
0 the wise is sufficient.’ "

Either Pray was not wise, or the quotation

was not to be taken literally. He frowned and

/ meditated but could get no idea from the note.

What had Evan Conrad’s wedding todo with
the matter? ' I

Plainly, Knight would not have accepted an
invitation to witness the ceremony, and Pray
i: new of no reason why the ceremony should
bring his deceased partner to Buck Basm.

“ 1t may be only a hoax, or an attempt to set
rue on the wrong track,” he thou ht. ‘ Conrad
seems to be an honest man, thong I don’t know
how he stands on Knight’s books. Poor as all
the rest, no doubt. But what of this note?
Somebody wrote and threw it in at the window.
Who? I would give something to know, but it
ain’t likely the writer will reveal himself after
till his trouble at secrecy.”

He read the note re tedly, and tried to at
( .illle meaning out of its ambiguous hints. ad
it occurred to him as significant that Evan Con-
rad was married the same night that his fellow
agent took his fatal journey?

“ N o, it hasn’t,” he said, aloud; “and this
shunds to me like rank nonsense, but no clew

'- , shall be left untried. I will investigate the case

of Evan Conrad. Open and frank as he seems,

'3‘ {if - he may be the man who killed Shaffer Knight!”

CHAPTER XVIII.
a DANGEROUS vrsrroa.
EVAN Conaan’s wife was happy. Her mar-
/ricd life had not begun with everything in her
favor, for they were poor, and the chances of
bettering their financial standing while they re—
mained at Buck Basin Were not good. She had
l-cen accustomed to overty, however, and her

“.1  love for Evan had 1 her to unite her fortunes

with his most gladly.
Brigadier Baldy’s love for her had been Well
applied. She was a cheerful, true-hearted little

.3 Woman, and if her friends had been called upon

0 make themselves known, nlgarly every person
on.

All had a good word for er as Edwina Vane;

: as Mrs. Conrad it was the same, except with

" those who had been unsuccessful suitors for her

hand. / ,
Amon these were Clarence Webber and
Brian arkoe, thou h the former had of late

, ina had almost ceased to think of him.
Markoe, however, had shown no preference else-
‘ where, and the glances he had given her from

 ‘ girl so much attentlon to Floralice Heath that
. w

It was with a feeling of uneasiness therefore,
when, answe ' a knock at the door

the last recorded scenes, she
His seowl had disa peered, however, and he

, _ “ Good-evening,” he saidxilandly. “ Are you
Lusy? If not, I would like to step in and tell
There is great excitement at the
I can only stop a moment before going

int craftil to gain ad-

' tobel.
He had worked his

' mittance to the house, caring that e would not

otherwise get n invitation, and though Edwina
was anything ut pleased to see him, she could
do '0 less than, ask him in.

je prom tly entered, concealing his triumph
“ der the riendly smile which seemed to have
Hehad left Evan so
Occupied at the hotel that he did not think he

t’s
ave

’ wohld be interrupted.

“Are they still talking about the a
death?” asked the young wife, anxious to
the‘int iew over.

Ev ,uYes n
“ Have they any theory?”
“ Pray su ”

. spects.
I ’ “Mr. Conrad said that Pray insisted that mur-

' def had been done.”
“ Ah! was your husband troubled?”
“ Very much so. He feels sure that Knight
3’

 with some accident, as Brigadier Ba

, and he dislikes to have it said that

- su
" there is a murderer in our town.”

. V‘ Naturally.”
“ I am sure it was an accident.”
" But Evan was troubled, you say!”
“ He was afraid some innocent person would

a  be accused of havlfifi killed Knight.”

 
 

! know why

’ .’ ,“ Has it ocou

-“ He said that, he?"
.v There was something in Markoe’s manner
‘which troubled Edwina, thou h she did not
and she hesitated be ore answering:
“ He said it was talk.” '
to you that allthis occurred

1 4th» wiszht of your wedding?” ‘
" Yes; Evan and I 15ka of it.”

on the 7

 

in the least.

“Why do you suppose Knight was coming
here?”

“ I really don’t know.”

“ It is singular that Evan did not meet him
when he was walking by the river that night.”

Edwina looked surprised.

“ What do you mean?” /

“Oh! he went out, {on know, and walked
alon the river to have 's last bachelor smoke,
just fore he went to be married. Perhaps you
remember he was somewhat late that evening,
and that people bantered you about the ‘ miss-
ing bridegroom.’ Rather odd that Evan did
not see the tragedy, or hear a cry for help, or
an hing of that sort.”

wina experienced sudden alarm. Brian
Markoe spoke significantly, looked at her sig-
nificantly. What did he mean by such an asso-
ciation of ideas? She did not understand, but
she feared the dark-faced visitor more than she
had ever done before.

“I was not aware that Evan took any such
walk ” she answered.

“ e has so stated, himself. But he had bet-
ter not tell Ebenezer Fray. The crafty agent
might connect the fact that Evan was at the
place of Kni ht’s death at the very moment that
it is supposeg to have taken place.”

Markoe smiled as he spoke, but it reminded
Edwina of a wolf.

“I don’t know why he should do any such
thing!” she declared, indignation in her voice,
for his meaning was no longer to be doubted.

“ Wait! There is one thing more than I have
told. There is aman in Buck Basin who says
that he saw Evan and Shaffer Knight talking
that night, and the. agent declared that the mar-
riage must not take place. Knight said Evan
was as poor as a beggar now, and that with in-
creased e )ense he would not be able to pay
Sinclair R odes his due. Evan answered hotly
that no man should stand between him and you.
That was all my Informant heard, and I told
him to bury his secret so deep that it Would,
never be heard by another man.”

Edwina sat with a pale face, but with two red
spots at the cheeks.

Alarm and anger were struggling for the mas-

ry.

She did not believe Brian Markoe, and did
think that all this was a creation of his own
mind, but she dared not tell him so. He was
showing himself a. dangerous man, and to a er

to

hilrlne might be to cause im to tell this storye se-
W 1‘8.

“1 am sure the man was mistaken,” she al-
most asped.

“ e said he was sure."

“ But he mlgy have wished to injure Evan."

“ He certa' y did not, and he vowed that no-
body could make him tell that which would
harm Evan. But the poor fellow was almost
broken down by the secret. He said he had
loved Conrad, and now—well, for 've me, but
lEnsaihdt  could be no doubt the Evan killed

“ e told a base falsehood!” cried the young
wife indignanth£6

“ 11 any case will be silen .”

“Evan would not harm any one.”

“Not premeditatedly, perhaps.”

“ Not under any circumstances!”

“Pardon me, but you forget that Knight
threatened to prevent the wed( ing, and—-” '

“I do not believe it. Whoever told you
lied willf . I do not believe Evan met
Knight by t 6 river; I know he did not. No
man is more gentle than he and he would not
harm his worst enemy. You say the agent
threatened to revent t e wedding. How could
he revent it

‘ There was somethi said about arresting
Evan, for some alleg dishonesty about his
contract with Rhodes. Now, my dear friend, 'I
do not want, you to regard me as your enemy,
for I am the best friend you have in the world.
I thought it was my duty to tell on this, how-
ever, so that you could be caret and hide his
secret. I pity you most sincerely. It is bad
enough to be doomed to everlasting poverty,
but to be the wife of a murderer is worse.” .

Edwina’s courage was rising. She believed
that she had read this too-s mpathetic visitor,
and she determined to test h m.

“ if I thought I was the wife of a murderer,
I would not remain in this house another night,’
“guild l edi M

, an en eama pear n arkoe’se es.

His face fished aiid he exclaimed: y

“If you mean that, you can command an-
other, and more honorable, man who would

ladly give you shelter, money, love and pro-

ion. Edwina, I love you as well as I ever
did—no, a thousand times more. Why will
you remain here with a murderer? Go with
me, and we will flee from Buck Basin and
never more be seen here. I will make a happy
home for you. and you shall reign :19an of
w heart while life remains. Tell me, Ed-

on, will you go?"

He poured forth the words vehemently, too
much excited to read the expression on her
face, but at the end she arose. ,
but the hand which she

" She was v pale
stretched outezward the door did not tremble

/

.‘x

 

.v
r . V,
.4 ' \

 

 

“Go!” she said, in a voice which no one
would have believed her capable of usin , so
hard and stern was its inflection. “You have
revealed yourself in your true colors at last,
Brian Markoe, and now I know that all you
have said was false. You came here sim ly
to dpoison my mind against my husband, gut
I espise you and your arts. Go, and never
dare come again!”

Markos stood dumfounded.

“But, Edwina—”

“ Don’t dare speak my name!” cried the
little Woman, stamping her foot angrily on the
floor. “Never even dare to geek to me n gain.
I know you as you are, and I espise you.”

Brian s face became a. dark red.

“You shall suffer for this!” he hoarsely de-
clared.

“ I defy you i”

“ Perhaps Evan Conrad can do the same.”

“If he knew of
feel the weight of his strong band.”

“ I don’t carea picayune for him or his heavy
hand. I’m ready to meet him with revolver,
knife or bare fists any time. But what I meant
was that he shall yet rest in a murderer’s cell.
You, say I have only been lying. \Vait and
see!

“ Brian Markoe, would you r01 lOflt your false-

“ I shall do nothing. J us‘t as sure as the sun
rises and sets this crime will be traced to Evan
Conrad. Idon’t know whether he is guilty or
innocent, and I don’t care. Shaffer Knight
came here to see Conrad, as I know, and though
I shall not tell it to him, Pray is sure to loam
the fact. Then your precious husband will be
in the web I”

“He is innocent!”

“ Innocent men often hang,” Brion retorted,
with a short laugh. “ It may be so in this case.
Well, I’m off now.”

He turned toward the door, but, suddenly
seized with an im )ulse which, a few minutes
later, he was willing to admit was madness,
abruptly wheeled and caught Edwina by the
wrist.

“Give me a kiss, darling, before I go!” he
said.

The young wife started indip'nnntly back, and
tried to free her hand; but his hold was too
strong.

“Let me go i” she panted.
villain let me o!"

Markos laughed mockin ly, drew her toward
him and bent to press his ips to hers, but ashe
did sosomething like an avalanche seemed to
strike him in the side of the head, and in a mo-
ment more he lay sprawling on the floor.

“ You cowardly

CHAPTER XIX.
rm: was rrcnrnss.
Ir seemed for a moment to Brian Markos as

though the world was collapsing, tut he and his .

surroundings finally settled down apd he looked
up understanding]; .

He knew he ad been knocked down by an
uncommonly hard blow, and expected to see
Evan Conrad, but instead, it was the eccen-
trically clad individual who called himself
Game Chicken.

The ex—pugilist had thrown his head on one
side and was surveying the fallen man with a.
grin on his face. ,

“Time!” he called, in a business-like voice.
“ Toe the scratch, or the match will be given

again» vou.”
gasped M‘rkoe, “did you hit

" You ruflian !”
me?”

“ Hit you? Elem ye, no. Reckon you hit.
your heel ag’in’a pin an’ fall.”

The fallen man slowly arose. and then bent a
most malevolent are u on Game Chicken.

“ I am temp to hi you for that!” he said,
in a deep, husky voice. ’

“ Go right on an’ do it, ole man.”

I“ Not now; but you will see me again."

“ Blms yer dear hcar1, don’t put it 011’. Now
is the ap ’inted time. Wade right in, Marquis
0’ Queens rry, an’ let go yer dukes. I’d really
admire a four-round turn with ye. Ihn rnst
fur want 0‘ practice, but by the last round
might pick up a. bit. Come on, an’ M you don’t
smash me all ter iieccs I’ll promise ter stay all
through ther ‘ mi .’ Toe that scratch an’ ham~
mer me a bit, do!”

“I have nothin to do with such as you,”

“ No? Rather ght a woman, p‘r’aps.”

“ Sneer on!” hissed Markoe. " It’s your form
now, but don’t you-think you have seen the end
of this affair. will live he avenged for that;
blow, but I shall take my own time and place.
I am oing now.”

“ sit a bit. Young woman shall I let him
go, or shall I roceed ter walk all over him an"
mutilate his to ne form ’crrdin’ter Marquis-
0' Queens rules I’m a tender-hearted man,
but there is mes when ther good 0’ first de-
mands that certain le be all chawe up..
Young woman, shall c aw?” ,

Game Chicken scowled until he looked like a‘
pirate preserved from the dogs of piracy‘s:
glory, but Edwina quickly repli :

“ No—no. let him go; I ask no more. Let him
go and never return.”

our errand here you would 'I

H You hear, (IO '6? X’Ouufle to" evacupte  ; A

 

 

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r -, “.00-... haw. .. ~-.........__. 4......Wm... .
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. sinuation significant.
, more or less aid during the day, and Pray could

/. “vs-rag“   gin,” P» .6 J. y,
. n.- y...« -, I» J
, I
.

..  ‘ _,. .31., F a.»  v ,1. v _ »
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15

 

 

 

 

premises permanent an’ eternal. Your phiz
don’t fit inter ther normal surroundin’s hyar.
Only handsome men like me does. P’int yer
nose south an’ chase it out!”

“Are you done?” asked Brian, anxious to
establish the fact that he was not frightened.

“ That depends. Ef ye go at once, I’m done;
cf not, I ain’t done till I’ve wed up a sixty-
foot furrer in ther ground wit yer corpse.”

“ I plainl perceive that I am not wanted. I
will go, ant leave Mrs. Evan Conrad with her
chosen, select and aristocratic friend. Of course
I have no chance.”

And then Brian made an exaggerated bow
and passed quietly out. Game Chicken looked
after him thoughtfully, dissatisfaction on his

face.

“ Shall I foller an‘ spar him eighty or ninety
rounds, Queensberry style?” he a: ed.

“ No, no‘ let him go. I am glad to get rid
of him. Thank you very much for coming to
my aid.” '

‘Don’t mention it. The exercise was 0’ great
value ter me ez a tonic. Ef I had got a back at
him fur four rounds, I wouldn‘t ’a" needed no
spring medicine for some centuries. Won’t Evan
belt him when you tell him about it!”

“ 1 shall not tell him.”

‘L  ’9‘"

“ I want this matter to be kept secret.”

it No I"

“Yes and I rely on you to be silent.” ,

“By ndigo! you give me pain, but ther
commands 0’ fair woman is sacred ter ther dis-
ciples o’ ther ring. \V’ot you say shall be did,
an’ not a ‘p will I peep. That settles 1t.
“'hich reminds me I drOppcd in cz I were ass-
in’ tor d’liver a message from Evan. e 15
delayed at ther hotel, whar they are still talkin’
abcut Shaffer Knight, but will be here soon.”

“ 15 there any new light on the case?"

“ Not a reliable ray. 0’ course Knight was
drowned accidental. Clear easel But Eben-
ezer Pray is so consarncd sot in his ways that
nothin' but an ’arthquake kin convince ' .
He’s bound ter hang somebod . Wal, mum,
I’m one. Don’t think you wi have no more
trou 16 with B. Markoe, Esquire. Ef yer do,
send fur me an’ I‘ll walk all over his anatomy.
Farewell l” '

Game Chicken had reached the door.
made a deep bow and went out.

Edwina was left alone, and she was lad it
was so. She did not fear that Brian arkoe
would return, and she wanted a chance to think.
To think! Before that, this had beena pleasure,
and she regarded herself as one of the hap iest
and most fortunate little women in the wor d.

Markoe’s visit had chan ed all that, and dark
clouds now rested upon t e horizon of her life.
She shivered as she thought of what he had said.
Evan in danger of arrest as a. murderer! It was
aterrible thought. Not for a moment did she
believe he had harmed Shaffer Knight, or even
seen him that fatal evening, but serious trouble
would certainly Occur if Markos told others what
he had told her. ‘

f‘Andhe will tell, I am sure. He is very an-
gry, and honor finds no lace in his nature. Oh!
what shall I do? Shall tell, Evan? No, no: it
may be Markos was only tryin to fri hteu
m0; thathe inventedall that hesai . I wi not
trouble Evan by s ' of such an absurd
thing—he is so innocent and good!”

But it was not so easy to quiet her own fears,
and all her efforts to be cheerful could not banish
the idea that serious trouble was ahead,

Markos was eager for reven e, and once let
Pray suspect Evan Conrad an he would hunt
him down, guilty or innocent. Poor Edwina!
clouds have quickly arisen on that sky which
had seemed so fair and promising.

He now

 

The following day saw no chan of import-
ance in the situation. Ebenezer ray worked
diligently, but he gained no li ht. In his pocket
he carried the note which had been flung in at
his window but it was asambiguous asever and
thfiz writer did not come forward to declare hiin-
se .

The suspicion cast upon Evan Conrad by the
notewasnot hightened b Pra ’s in uiries; he
couldlearn nothing which' woud ma e the in-
Conrad, himself. gave

not he} fee that he was one of the most hon-
est of guckulggsin’s citizens.
'1‘.» Words of the note still rung in his ears,
however. . , '
Had it ocaii-edto him as significant that on
the same evening Evan Conrad had been mar-

ried?

What did it mean?

During the day Shafler Knight’s remains were
conSIgned t0 the .earth. Pray knew nothing
about his past history or his friends, and the
hour of burial could not be ned.

There had been 8 poot-mortem examination,
and a coroner’s )ury. but the doctor proved him-
self incom tent, and both he and the jury
worked u or Pray’s thumb, as it were.

They dared to do 0111 what he told them, and
while the doctor was a lowed to ve drowni
as the direct cause of death, Pra caused them

 

118
I.

to, ignore the possibility of accident and intro-

duce a clause indicating that they had suspicions ‘

of foul play.

It was his verdict, not theirs.

Evening brought another link in the chain. A
man who lived at Oaktree had heard of the

he had seen at the asylum? He would have

, doubted it if he could, but the evidence was
1 irrefragable.

tragedy, and he came over to say that he could 

give a.
case. ra at once became interested.

“What 0 you know?” he abruptl asked.

“ Wal, ye see I was out on ther 0 tree road,
havin’ been ter see ter my animiles, when I seen
a lame hoss an’ wagon goin’ toward my town—-
ther boss was lame, I mean. It passed right
nigh ter me, an’ I recognized it. Ther boss
was Abe Tucker’s—the same that Knight is
said ter have had.”

“ Was Knight there?”

“Nobody was thar; ther vehicle was empty.”

“ Did the horse seem frightened?”

“ Not any. Now, ther p’int is right hyar:
Knight left Oaktree at seven o’cloc . Ef he
had had a sound hoss an’ driv at ther usual
speed, he could hev one for Buck Basin an’
back fer Oaktree in a ut two hours an’ a half,
stead drivin’. When I seen ther hoss it was
nigh ack tcr Oaktree, an’ it was only a quarter
past eight.”

“ I don’t fully grasp ]your meaning yet.”

“ Wal, I’ll trytcr me. 8 ye. I’ve hecrd it said
that some allow ther boss got skeered on Arrow
River bridge, an’ pitched ther driver overboard.
What I am drivin at is this: Ef ther boss had
been sound, an’ had gone as fur as ther bridge,
he couldn’t ’a’ ct back ter Oaktree with 0rd”-
nary gait afore lf-past nine. Ef he had run
part 0’ ther way, bein’ skeered, he might have
got back at nine. This is w’ot a sound boss
might ’a’ done. Now, a lame boss got back
afore half-past eight. I‘V’ot is ther natural in-
feroncc?”

Pray looked triumphant.

“ Simply that the horse never went as far as
the bridge. Consequently, no accident could
have occurred as some people claim.”

“ But the keeper of the lchry stable says the
horse did nct get back until much later,” urged
one of the citizens.

“ I don't claim ter know when the boss got for
ther stable, but I did see it within half a mile of
the town at quarter past eight. How much
time it took ther rest 0’ ther wa I don’t know.”

The story was a serious b ow to the the-
ory of the men of Buck Basin. He who had
told it was considered a. reliable man, and it
utterly demolished their claim of an accident at
the bridge. It would establish the fact to any
unpre'udiced mind that if any accident had oc—

curr it had been miles away from Arrow
River. Either the horse had in no way caused

Kni ht’s death, or some one had afterward
carried the body a long distance.

Pray looked as exultant as one of his melan-
choly expression could.

“, think this effectually disposes of those here
who have been trying to ham r me and defeat
the ends of justice,” he sai curtly, “and I
shall now press the case. I shall at once send
for a detective and the facts will be gotten at
and the guilt parties given the extreme
penalty of the w.

CHAPTER XX.
DANGER FOR mailman.

EDGAR Hnsnmcxsou was in an unsettled
frame of mind. After his return to Buck
Basin from the scenes of the burning asylum,
he had said to himself: .

“ I will arrest Floralice Heath, and take her
back to the prison from which she helped the
convict to escape She can be tried for that, at
legit, and she has proved that her heart is all
0 .

And then his mood changed and he thought:

“She may not be so very guilty, and she is a
woman. I will notbe too hasty. I will inves-
tigate carefully, and try to learn her secret be-
fore molestin her, but I will go no more to her
house; Her siren song will weaken my resolu-'

ion.

But he found that every hour that he kept
away was so much time of restless, painful lone-
liness and he changed his position yet again.

“ ow can _I investigate unless I am with her,
seeking to gain her confidence? That is the only
way. Duty requires me to go, and I will do

It was only an excuse and he knew it. He
wanted to see Floralice, not as a criminal to be
hunted down, but as a woman. And he went,
Enosving that his heart would overcome his

ea .

It was the same hour when Ebenezer Pray
was receiviu the bit of evidence which had so
encouraged im. Floralice and Hendrickson
were together in the parlor where we have once
before seen her-entertain him, and get rid of
Tom Sowders so summarily.

Hendrickson thought he had never seen Flo-
ralice in a more charm mood Always
charming, her I htest in was usually one
of gracious love mesa, On this occasion her
mood a preached visacity and she ested with
an arc ness which  and wildered
him. Every word, and gesture strength-
ened the chain which was upon him.

And could this bethe stern, revengeful woman

i '\ I ‘ i ‘
‘ . ‘  1

. 4.. w”, 

oint which might have bearing on the Z

J

I

l

 

, matter. ”

“ Do 'ou know, Mr. Hendrickson,” she finally
said. “ think I shall leave Buck Basin soon.”
“ Indeed! Is not this a sudden resolution?”
“ Not particularl '. I did not come here to
remain a lifetime— ho .”
“Shall on then go est?”
“ That don’t know.”
“I hope you will not go without informing
me.”
“ And why not, pray?”
“ Would it be just to a. friend f”
“ Should you inform me, if you were going?”
“ Certainly I should. Can you suppose other-
wise? You must set a poor value on friendshi
if you could suppose me capable of breaking o
the friendshi between us. I hope that it will.
be enduring, Hendrickson asserted.
' “My experience is that separation scon de-
strovs friendship—yes, even recollection.”
“ hope you are not sgeaking for yourself.”
“ I speak for the war] . ’
“ Don’t do that, Miss Heath. The world is
cold, harsh, hollow and unfeeling. Copy from {
the world and you have a mere desert. Ono /
should seek, rather, the oases by the way.”
Floralice sighed. . .
“ There is no oasis in some lives.” - 
“ Make them, then. Gcod intentions fertilized t
with ood deeds will create an oasis. I
trust t at your life has not been a desert.”
Floralice was about to reply when a knock
sounded at the door of the parlor. Both Stlfir ‘ fl
posed that the a plicant “as the landlady, li a I ‘ 
hinking that, t e outer door being open, it was ._\
some one who had just come from the street. 
Miss Heath arose and opened the door. A v’ v _'
rough-lookin , muscular man stood outside; a / a, f 5,?
stranger to endrickson at least, who kcked at ’
him in anything but a friendly way.  "
“Good-evenin’ ma‘ani.” he said, with a short, V I
awkward bow. “ Is one Edgar Hendrickson 5,
here?” _ , A -,
“Yes. sir.”
“ I want to see him. Be you him?"
The stran er had stepped over the threshold
and was 100 ‘ing at the younger man. i '
“ I am he,” curtly answered Hendrickscn.
“ Ha! glad I’ve found ye. I’ve come (11 busi-
ness. I ain’t ot no card with me, but my name
is Brown, an’ ’m from —~—. We’ve got an insane
asylum that or did hev until it was turned up,
an’ I was a keeper thar.” V... I
Mr. Brown spoke in a deep, hearty mice. and ski
he helped himself to a chair with great freedom, "
and. still kee ing his hat on, spread himself cm: L! f
as though to comfortable at any cost. ' " '
Hendrickson glanced quickly at Floralice. \ , _ ; ~
She stood looking at the visitor like one I f
dazed, and Edgar saw that her eyes had a wild, . \v‘
startled look, while her face was very pale. "
She suddenly lanced at Hendrickscn, met his ‘ '_
own gaze, an then turned suddenly and sat ’ ,
down near the window where her face was par-
tially in shadow. - ' , ,_
Back to Brown went Ed ar’s regard.  w? j
“ Well. sir, what have to do with your bndé
ness here!” he brusquely asked. .
“Nothin’, unless you see fit fer help me, but ,
yer see the chief 0’ p’lice 0’ our city mentioned , I ‘i,
you an’ advised me ter apply ter you fur help.” I . 
i “In what we do you need help?” ‘ *  ‘
“ I’m lookin’ or a woman named Eu hes.”
There was a sudden movement from t e quar~ -~
fer where Floralice sat. . 5,
_ “I know nobody of that name,” curtly an-
swered Edgar. , z. ,,
“Very like] . No doubt that was an ah'dm
But I 0 inc e’s in this town under   
name. astwise, so we hev been told.” ' ’
“My good man, your talk is all Greek font. 2
Pray come to the point at once'and let me know 5
just what you want. I have no time to waste.” .
“Nor me. I’ve got a boss, wagon and man v."
out here an’ he’s waitin’ ter ‘iearn whether
goes bac t?” a§one, or has me tint...
passenger. irie . mentioned an my an, 
ye know. Wal, this was burned. up a few days ,1
ago, an’ we b’licve it was sot by a woman%'
same Hughes female I told you on. She had an
inmate t ar, you see. an’ in sech cases peoyle 
usually want ter git rid 0’ them. We suspectshe 
sot the fire ter bag her game, but. bless yer heart, f ,, ,.
we couldn’t hev our fine buildin’ burned downi - ‘“
jest ter gratify .her spite.” ’ ',
“Still I don t see.” . v
“I’m comin’ to it; don‘t hurry me. We got.
a letter—ther doctor did~sayin’ that 91' we
would apply ter one Edgar Hendrickson. 0' this
town, he would tell us who an’ what ther wo—.
man was. ‘ Hendrickson.’ set our chief o’p’liee- ’
‘I know him. He’s jest ther man. an’ be wi
help ye. Go ter him.’ So said ther chief, an’
am come, es you see.” .
“‘ Have you the letter you mentioned?” '
l V!
“ Is it destroyed?”
“ Don‘t know; it was the doctor’s.”
“ Was the writer a man or woman?” , I
“ That I don’t know. No name was signed,” «
" Well, my man, on have evidently been
hoaxed. I know n ing whatew about the ' ’

  
   
  
    
    
   
     

.v: _
a.

Brown looked dismayed. \  V.

i

 

16

Old Baldy-

 

 

 

, “ You don’t?"
' / “ No."
“' I feel sure. ther woman is hyar.”
“ IVhy do you think so i”
“ “'al, I dunno except that ther writer seem-
ed ter be sincere.’
, " Of course. What good would the hoax have
‘1 . been otherwise. It is not complimentary to me,
, a; I must have been an ally of the Woman to
‘ lirmv anything about it. Pshaw! Somebody
vi ills been playing a trick on you. There is no
, r: mian namcd Hughes in this town, and no fire-
, . , 11cm]. You can take my word for that."
4 ‘. C‘ ( “ “79.1, by ther 01d Nick. this is colnplercatin'.
v' I felt dead sure it was all right.”
“Never trust an anonymous writer again.
That’s the best advice I can give you."
Mr. Brown was silent and thoughtful for a

f“ '. moment, and then he slofily turned to Flo—
 ‘i- , ralice:
. , ' “ I s’pose, ma’am, that you do not know scch
, apartyi”
‘ . "I onot.”
‘ Calm and clear was Miss Heath’s reply. A
vein of indifference run through it, )ut she

sci-med perfectly willing to answer such a rea-
sonable question.
 ;.' “Wal, Ireckon I am done up. Ef I knew
, - , who made me all this journey fur nothing, I’d
 descend on him like a cyclone.’
The speaker arose, and then added:
2;, t v “ Sorry ter hev troubled ye. an’ now I’ll take
‘1-  myself off. By ther way, cf ye hear 0’ this
V Eu hes woman, send word ter the chief o‘ p’lice,
3,3, ~ wil e, Mr. Hendrickson?"
- . “ Vith pleasure.”
nd then Mr. Brown said good-night and
 at out. The team which had brought him
' from Oaktree was several rods away down the
. 'r ‘ street, and he started that way. Only a few
' r' {tops had be taken, however, when a woman
‘”-’ darted from the shadow of the building and
. ‘ his arm.
“ here is our prisoner?” she fiercely cried.
Brown rec-oiled. He had not expected to see
\any woman there, and the abru tness with which
this one swoo down upon im, and the ve-

 

g.

‘ homent way In which she spoke. startled him.

r  .. He stood staring at her blankly, but as a vail

 ‘, . was thrown over her face and head, he could tell
‘ 4‘4; little or nothing about her.

3  - “ Wh-wh-what?” he finally stammered.
- ~ “ Vv'here’s your prisoner?
. “ What risoner?”
- , "‘Fool! am she who wrote the note that
, brought y )1] here. Have you been in there and
.5 - come out empty-banded?“
'4 , “Oh! you wrote it, did yer! Wal, I’d like

55’ _ tor know why you fooled me.”
, 1;- - “ I did not fool you.”
ag- “ Hendrickson says he knows nothin’, an’ that
, it was all a hoax.”
 “Hal is he still infatuated with her?” cried
,, . u the woman, in a sibilant voice.
 x V “ With whom? Hang it, woman, I’ve had
/ .ionough 0’ this mystery an’ mummcry. Speak
' .out, now or never 2”
C. l " Fool! Have you no eyes, no wits? » The wo-

»_ .man you want was in the room all the while you
were talking. And did you lot Hendrickson
«blindyou, and deceive you? Oh! my curse rest
‘2. ,0 them both l—-—he is still her slave!”

~ %p went the woman’s clinched hand, and
Brown recoiled, fearful that he would receive a
blow. His companion seemed to be a sort of

r " p 058.
A r ,5 WGreat Scott!" he then said, “ you don’t mean
of " ’ flier tell me that ther high-toned young woman I
‘. ‘soe’d in thar was her that so ther asylum

I i ~ hare?”
' , v, f‘ Yes, yes; of course it was. You have been
. “ii ‘ blinded, duped. Your prey is eveuNyet in our
hands, if you see fit to secure it. o don she
.tdked very nice and polite to you, for she is

cunningbenoug .
“ '1 ;- _“ Rig t you be but now that you hev put me
' on' ther track s won’t fool me a in. Not
y, .. ,puchl I’ll go straight back an’ hev or out o’
c ’ . her den.”
7 2* “ See that you keep up your courage."

“ By ther way, I reckon you had better go in
with me. You re her accuser, an’ we .kin settle
that case right soon.”

“No; I can’t go in,” the woman said, starting

“ But I want you to.”
“ I must decline.”
. ‘fWhat sort 0’ people be you ’round hyar,
. " .anth?” Brown cried, in disgust. “ You all
seem inclined ter clog ther wheels 0’ jestice.
 “ fizam, I hate tar be rough, but you must go
v u

“ Mr. Brown,” was the cool reply, “ I have, at
~ sonic risk to myself, out you on the track. I
,, - ;swear that all which I have told you is true. It
" y, is nowfor you to secure your prisoner or not.

A Goodnight!”
. .. u She turned away, and. when she saw that it
 _ was Brown’s intention to stop her by force, sud-

denl darted 03 at a rate of speed which quickly
left 1 alone and defeated.
' ' t‘Well, I’ll be shot! Buck Basin clutches ther
1» ~brown-bmd fur freaks. But I’m bound tor hev
E , ther Hughes damsel. an howt”
 And a started bac to invade Floralico’s
quarters again.

 

 

CHAPTER XXI.
ImNDmcxson’s BOLD GAME.
WHEN Brown went out, Floralice and Hen-

drickson turned as though by mutual under- ,
His expression l was her that I was after, an’ that Hendrickson

standing and faced each other.

U But—97

Brown hesitated, and Floralice pleasantly re-
" But?”

“‘A woman outside told me that you reely

was earnest, grave and troubled; hers, painfully ' was lyin’ for you.”

suggestive. of a desire to read his very thoughts. ‘

“ I think it will be a long time before I send
word to the chief of police,” he said, signifi-
cantly, and referring to Brown’s last re nest.

“Because you don t know where the ughcs

f woman is?"

filied ter me about her.

 

“ Because I am no hunter of women.”

“The Hughes woman, guilty though she is,
ought to feel grateful to you.”

“ I ask no more. Her gratitude is more pro-
cious than all the gold the State would pay for
an arrested fire-fiend. ”

A startled look appeared in Floralice’s eyes
and her lips trembled.

“ Do you think you know this unfortunate
woinant’;sho asked in a low voice.

|

Quickly, silently, Floralice turned away and
sat down at the table.

"But nothing would tempt me to betray her
to that man I” he added in a deep tone.

“ She ought to be grateful to you.”

She had used almOSt the same words before,
but Hendrickson could see that it was with diffi-
culty that she said anything at all. He had no
wish to force an understanding, and was now
sorry he had said so much; excitement had led
him further than he ought to have gone. He
remained standing unconsciouslyf, waiting for
Floralice to fully recover horse , but she had
not stirred when a heavy step sounded outside
and the door was unceremoniously opened.

And then Brown strode rudely in again, his
face flushed and his manner excited.

“ So you’re still herel” he exclaimed.

“ Where else should we be?” retorted Hen-
drickson. “ This is the proper place for us.
Can you say the same? Allow me to ask b
what right you so unceremoniously invade a
private house?”

“ I ain’t hyar tor discuss etiquette, but ter say
that I have got onto ther truth at last. You
two said you didn‘t know who the Hughes wo-
man was. I do. Thar she is !”

Ho leveled one finger at Floralice. She had
arisen and her face was very pale, but it was
far calmer than was to be expected.

Edgar Hendrickson saw that the battle must
be fpught over again, but he rallied to the
wor .

“Are you mad?” he cried, feigning indigna-
tion rather than anger. “ I cannot believe you
would willfully do any one harm, but do you
know whom you accuse?”

“ I accuse this woman.”

“ Deluded man, she is one of the most honor-
able women in this town.”

“ Can’t help that: she’s ther fire-bug. I ain’t
sure you are any better, for on defended her—
qu ew who she was,
an‘ on beat me out 0’ doi ’ my duty.”

“ on speak falsely, and if we were alone you
should answer for it as man to man. I care lit-
tle for the slur on myself, but no true man Will
insult a woman. No man shall in in presence.
You have made a base charge aga nsta lady,
and our manhood should revolt a it.” '

“ e talk, but you can’t wheedle me again.”

“ Nobod wishes to do so.”

“ I say s e is the Hughes woman.”

“Persist in this assertion, and you stand a
good chance of bein chastised.”

“I’ll risk that. am hyar on duty, an’ I’m
goin' tar do it. You two fooled me afore; you
can’t do it ag’in. Ma’am. you’re my risonerl”

He advanced to ard Floralice, but endrick-
son barred the ay. The young man’s face

was almost as pale as hers, but it was not fear:

that moved him.

“ Attempt to touch her and I will knock you
down .” he declared.

“Don’t ye dare interfere with ther discharge
o’ my duty.” ‘

“ Don’t you dare molest this lady!”

The men glared an ly at each other, but
Floralice now moved orward. Her calmness
surprised Hendrickson. The first shock of her
fear was over, and all her magnificent courage
Mantra“ n. b...

‘ , gen emen, ou arequarre ga u
nothing,"yshe said. “  will men he so head-
strong? I feel sure that r. Brown’s case will
not spoil with a little delay, so let us all sit
down and talk this matter over. You don’t ob-
ject, do you, Mr. Brown?"

He hesitated, wavered, and than answered:

“I don’t s’pose, it’ll do any great harm,
though my team is waitin’ ter take me back tor
Oaktree. I’ll hear what you hev ter say.”

And he sat down like a tamed grizzly. .

“First of all,” Floralice calmly pleasantly
continued, “ I believe that ou said when you
called before that you had goon told you could
rely on Mr. Hendrickson; that he was just the
man to aid you: and that he was stronggy re-
commended by the chief of police of your ty?’

‘1\

“Well, Ilene it to him to say who and what
I am.”

Hendrickson started. He suspected the iden-
tity of this troublesome woman.

“ Does this tally with what the chief of police
said?”

“ W'al, hardly,” Brown admitted.

“ Who was the woman?”

“I don‘t know.”

“ Don’t know? How is that?”

“ When I tried to find out, she run away.”

Floralice laughed, and it seemed as careless
and amused of inflection as her manner was at
ease.

“Do you take the word of an unknown wo-
man in preference to that of Mr. Hendrickson?
He. was recommended to you by the chief of po—
lice. Who is she% Who recommends her?”

Brown’s face lengthened.

“ Hang me of I know!” he replied.

“ Did she not prove her insincerity by run-
nin away?”

lifr. Brown scratched his head doubtfully.
Floralice was making some strong points, but if
the truth was known it was as much her man-
ner as what she said that was influencing him.

“ I don’t know but I’ve made a tool 0’ my—
self,” he said, dubiously, “ but I must be sure
I’m right afore I change my tune. Hendrick-
son, ther chief said you was a right square man.
Do you asseverate t at this hyar lady is incapa-
ble 0’ bein‘ a fire—bug?”

“ Yes, sir; I do.”

fl “film she prove an alibi fur ther night 0’ ther
re

“ She can, by me and another good witness.”

It was a ho] , assertion, for Brown might put
it to the test, but Hendrickson had such strong
hope of getting the man back to the Oaktree
station at once that he went in to play the game
recklessly.

fl “Xou’re sure you saw her ther night 0’ ther
re”;

“ I’ll swear that I did!”

“Then what 0’ ther woman who p’izoned my
mind i”

“ She was undoubtedly a crazy woman of the
village; one Bet Bridges, who is alway indulg-
ing in queer pranks. You are not the first man
for whom she has made trouble. Of course she
is not ‘crazy’ in the true sense of the word——
only very eccentric, a little deranged, and not
accountable for what she does. She may be at
home now, entirely forgetful of what she has
done. Certainly no sane, honest woman would
take so much trouble to urge you on and then
run away. Was she calm, or excited?”

“Excited.” I

“It was Bet, I’m sure,” declared Hendrickson,
with a smile. "

Brown hesitated a moment, and then repeated
his former question:

“ You say . on will swear that you seen her
ther night 0' t or first—Miss Heath, I mean.”

“ I Will swear to it.”

The visitor was plainly on the point of givin
up the game. There were certain things whic
were not satisfactory, and he might think of
more at a future time, but was he to con-
trary to what the chief of police had 1 Was
he to accuse the very man who had been recom-
mended to help him? Not by any means. ,It
was mad, absurd. ,

He was about to announce his ultimatum
when a knock sounded at the door. Hendrick-
son was nearest and he proceeded to open it, but
as it swung partly back he stood dumfounded

ma .

The up {gent was Leah Lee!
1-] has before been positive as to the author
of all this warble, but this added conviction.
Yes, the Gypsy girl was there, her eyes gleam-
in with excitement and intense longi to un-
ni ilate her rival. She had discarded vail
worn when talking outside with Brown, but this
was a bad sign; it indicated that she had re-
solved to a r openly and bear witness
against FloraIg:

For a moment Hendrickson was almost over-
whelmed, but all his audacity came to his and.

He turned toward Floralico and Browu, and
quietly said: I

“ It is some one to see me. Excuse me a mo-
mentl”

one moment ahead of Leah’s effort to enter,

, closed the door behind him. Then he caught the

G girl’s wrist fiercely.
l “ by are you

yi‘To unmask that infamous woman |”L‘Leah

re . .
“ You shall not do it.”
“ I will and shall i” \ I;
“ You will make the attempt at your
Soyou wrote for a man tooome here!”
“ I did. Even what you saw at the lam
did not shatter the glamour that wretch wo-

 

man has thrown u youflmd I took another
, step This one ll succeed. I will denounce
‘ her. Let me pass, sir!” .

And then be pushed through the narrow 3pm ,

here?” he demanded, sibihnt- _

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w._..

She tried to wrest her hand away, but he held
it ti htly.

“I will not!” he declared, “and don’t you
dare give any alarm. You must leave the house
at once. You wrote that I could name the wo-
man who fired the asylum. Very well, if you
persist in your )urpose I will SWear that you
did the deed. how take your choice between
leaving here, or instant arrest for arson. Which
shall it be 3”

 

CHAPTER XXII.
rnav‘s DETECTIVE ARBIVES.

LEAH'S eyes flashed venomously. _

“ Release my hand!" she hissed, trying to
free herself. .

“ Not until you give me an answer,” Hendrick-
son inexorably replied. “ The question is:
\Vill you go away and attend strictly to your
own affairs, or shall I denounce you as the per-
son who fired the asylum?”

“ You will not be believed.”

“ The man Brown has been informed that I can
name the fire-fiend. I shall name you!”

Leah’s expression suddenly changed, and her
mouth quivered as though she was about to
burst. into tears.

“Are you so madl infatuated with that wo-
man?” she asked, hus ily.

“ You have no reason to suppose that, but you
know as well as I do that she did not fire the
asylum. I will not see her seized and taken
away on a false charge. Come! let us. have
some fairness and decency in this case. Will you
go away and interfere no more i” _ I

“I will, if you “'1” swear to never Vigit Flora-
‘lice Heath again.”

“ I decline.”

“ Then I shall see the ofiicer and expose her.”

“ Do so if you dare. If you appear to him
with your lies I will declare you to be the fire-
fiend. It is for you to choose. Go in, if you
will!”

It was the supreme test, and he stepped aside
and folded his arms. ' met hers stern-
ly. She gazed at him as though fascinated.
Her eyes had a wild, startled gleam and her
bosom heaved as though the sobs which her
stern nature kept back were there at war and
seeking freedom.

The venomous part of her nature was as
strong as over against Floralice, and she _might
have defied Hendrickeon’s threat had it not
been for one thing. She felt that to defy him
would be forever to lose his love, and that was
the thing of all things she most coveted. .

Suddenly the brightness of her eyes was dini-
med with tears. I .

“ You are cruel to me ” she said, in the same
husky voice; “ cruel as t grave!”

“ I am only just.”

“ You think only of her—always of her, and I
have shown you how vile she is. I am only the
dirt under your feet!”

“Leah, you have no occasion to feel thus. It
is not for me to ju e her or you, except that I
see the injustice 0 your charge against. her.
You claim to care for me. Prove it by givmg
up our plot ainst a sister woman.”

gaze f lto the floor, and for a moment
1111:. was silent. Then she suddenly looked at

“Iwilldoas ones. I w an
let this plot minim I vafllfigfia 8‘, A:
you deal wi'.h me in thetuture, so will I deal
with you l"

There was something very significant in her
manner, as well as in the words, but Hendrick-
son was given no chance for reply. At the last
word the girl almost darted out of the home,
One moment her steps sounded, and than she
was really gone.

Hendrickson drew a doe breath.

“One danger vanquish ,” he thought; “but
others are looming up in the near future. I am
afraid there will be serious trouble With that

woman. '

And then he returned to the other room. One
glance showed him that all was well .there.

loralioe had completed her conquest during the
intermimion, and she and Brown were talking
pleasantl over minor matters. The visitor
arose as endrickson entered.

“ Wal, I’m oif. I’ve apolergited ter Miss
Heath. an’ new I do that same for you. I‘m a

/ «lumed, obstinate mule, an’ when I git back

home I shall hire a man tar kick me. That’s all
I kin sa , except that when I go it blind ag’in’,
I hope won’t come out on’t without a few
arms an’ 1 broke."

As he ran y seemed to feel ve much asham-
ed. both young (people declared t t he was ful-
ly for Wen, an then Hendrickson saw him to
his ve icle and started for Oaktree.

Floralioe had asked that the young man come
back to her, and he obeyed.

“ I have a narrow escape,” she said.

“ Rather, I should say."

“Words cannot express how grateful I am to
,you. or course I am innocent of that absurd
charge, but it would have giVen me unpleasant
prominence if I had been arrested."

H 9’ l

“ Did .you real] think you aw me the night
nod!” '

- that the fire is so. d to haveoccu

Slowly, hesitatingly, the question followad‘his

 

monosyllable, and Floralice looked at him
searchingly. He shrugged his shoulders.

“ I convmced Brown,” he answered. “ Let
us be satisfied with that, and pursue the inquiry
no further.”

Again there was silence. Floralice still stud-
ied his face and seemed ill at ease. Undoubted-
ly she was asking herself what he knew, or sus-
pected. Perhaps an explanation hovered on her
lips, but it was not made.

“ Once more,” she finally said, “let me thank
you warmly. If you are ever in trouble, may
you find as stout and loyal a defender!”

She gave him her hand, and he understood

that the interview was at an end.“ Yielding to I
a sudden impulse he raised that fair hand to his j
And one minute later he was alone outside ,

ii is.
tlie house, and on his way back to his hotel.

But he walked like one in a dream, and his
dream was of Floralice. There were dark
clouds over the sky of his life, but among them
shone a few stars whose radiance defied every-
thing, and they seemed like the eyes of Flora-
lice. And though calm judgment bade. him be-
ware and pause, still responded his heart,
“ Floralice 1’ -—always Floralice!

 

Two days passed. The unwelcome visitor,

Brown, had not again been seen, and, so far as ;
Hendrickson was concerned, the same remark i

might almost have been applied to Leah Lee.
Twice he had been to the hut of the Gypsy fam—

ily to in uire for her, and at other times he had .
walked t at way heping to meet her, but all in ‘
vain. Dame Lee declared that she was away I

from home, and would give no tidings.

Once, only, Hendrickson saw her. He was
among the Pyramids and saw two persons at a
distance, conversing. They Were Leah and
Clarence Webber.

The detective ar ed ill from this. Clarence
was a suitor for F oralice‘s hand. Had he and

Leah combined to form a plot to turn matters to ’

their liking? After that Hendrickson looked
for her more sharply. She knew certain things
connected with Floralice, and he was resolved
to offer her a good sum to tell the truth.

But Leah ke t out of s' ht, and he was left
to fear that a low might fall at any moment.

Near the end of the second day Buck Basin
had a new sensation. The detective sent for by
Ebenezer Pray made his a pearance. His ar-
rival was soon known to all he inhabitants, and

they quickly gathered to see him. He, how- ‘1

ever, was not visible for over an hour. ,

During all that time he was closeted with
Pray in a private room.

It was dark when he finally appeared to the
while eye. He provod to be a man still on the

right side of thirty, and as impassive as a

detective is popularly supposed to be. His com-
plexion was dark, as were his hair and heard—
the latter were very black—and he looked like a
man who had left all bu. .1‘1 frailties and in-
clinations behind when he embi az-ed the calling
of a public man-hunter; at least, so said several
of the villagers.

Hendrickson, one of the s ,ctators, mentally
differed with this verdict. 6 may have been
mistaken, or his own professional career may
have given him an insight into human nature
beyond the average, but it was his opinion
that though Mr. Bernard BoynHuch was his
name—might be a sharp detective, he was not
a trustworth one.

He had a 00k which Hendrickson mentally
termed “ snakish,” and seemed like one in am-
b

ush.

Boyne lighted a cigar and stood smoking
stoically. indifferent to the curious glances up-
on him, but it bad Just become known that
B ier Baldy had been sent for, as the
s esnian of the party that believed in the
t.eory of accident, when the Old Bri er ar—
rived and was soon closeted with yne and

Pr'la‘g.

e veteran went to the interview with ex-
treme reluctance. He had an awe of detectives,
and feared that this t member of the craft
might ick the truth from him, but the lesson

learn in the days of war was remembered now.
He had faced the guns of Gettysbu and
Antietam boldly; he now faced Bernard yne

boldly.
T1132 were introduced in the private room

by‘ y.
‘Mr. Boyne, this is Adam Benmarsh.”

The detective started and dropped his cigar.
“ Wh~what name?” he asked.

“ Benmarsh; Adam Benmarsh. Heis usually
called Brigadier Baldy, however, and by that
name I have before referredto him when speak-
ing to you. What’s the matter, Boyne? You
don’t look well.” .

Pray told the truth. Mr. Boyne did not look
well. His dark face had grown sudden] pale,
and it almost seemed that he was trig teued
about his condition. Certainly he had a startled

look.

“ It’s-a heart trouble,” he engilained. placing
his hand over that organ. “ am subject to
sharp pains here and I had an unusually acute
one then. Besi es, I burned my fingers with
that cursed ci ar.” ‘

The latter End been dropped on the carpet,
and Boyne picked it hp and threw it in the

l ’ \

   
 
 
  
 
     
   
  
   
  
 
    
  
   
   
   
  
  
   
 
  
 
 
    
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
  
   
   
  
 
    
 
  
   
    
    
   
   
    
  
   
     
    
  
  
  
  
  
   
     
     
  
        
  
  
    
    
     
   
  
  
 
      
      

1'7

‘fi

 

I stove. He was very careful not to leave any
, spark that could possibly increase and injure
g t e carpet, and spent considerable time in mak-
‘ ing‘sure on this point.

i ’hen he finally faced them again his heart
; trouble had probably abated, as he seemed
quite himself.

He then began questioning the Old Brigadier.
He had quite agreed with Pray that the vil-
lage people as a body evidently desired to
smother investi ration in the Shaffer Kiii ht
case: that they ad put Brigadier Baldy or- \ 
ward as spokesman to uphold a theory in which 5 ’
none of them believed; and had added the opin-
ion that hc could soon utterly tear the old man’s
case all to pieces and overwhelm him in the
ruins of his falsehoods.

Ebenezer now expected to see him do it.

The Brigadier, too, looked for something of
the kind and was on nettles. Very deep and
crafty he expected to find this great limb of the
law, and he had a weakening fear that the
whole truth would soon he wrested from him.

Boyne began ently: very ently indeed. He
said they had as ed for Mr. tlienniarsh to help
them becausehe was one of the leading men of I
Buck Basin—in fact, the foremost man of the
. village—and they felt that his active co—opera- ' 
tion would be of great value to them. ' \-

Pray could hardly avoid smiling at this. '

“ Taffy!” he thought, exultaiitly. “ Boyne
understands his busmess. He has baited the
hook, and will soon haul the whole truth out of.
this simple old man. He’sa lambnow, but when
he begins to roar like a lion Benmarsh will go
all to pieces.” ,

Very much to Pray’s surprise the detective  ’
did not “ roar like a lion ” at all. He kept the ' 
Bri adier there for half an hour, but, very much 7
to y’s dissatisfaction, treated him consider-
ately a the time, laid no traps for him, and did
not shake or strongly oppose the Brigadier’s ex.
pressed theory of accident.

And when Boyne finally bowed the visitor
out, Pray was so moved that he curtly ex-
claimed: 9

“VVh , man. you have not progressed an I- -
inch. thought you were going to handle that
fellow without gloves.” , ,

“Ah! but I found him too deep," answered ,:

 

Boyne.

‘ Too deep! Why, he’s as simple—minded as a
child.”

“ You underrate him. I’m a great judge of ,
~ character and I tell you he is really keen and '
crafty. t is my opinion we had better 'deal .'
with him as little as possible, and work on 
weaker men.” ~

"Great Scott!” thought Pray, “this 
ing. It won’t do to  it, but if the idea was V
not so absurd, I shou d actually believe that,
Boyne is afraid of the Old Brigadier!” ._

 

CHAPTER XXIII. 
LIKE ONE FRO“ THE GRAVE. I

BRIGADIER BALDY was besieged by the men : a?
of the village when he went outside. “’hat had“- 
been said to him by the detective? He had  *'
thrilling news to communicate. Even to him. " '
the interview had seemed ve uiet and com— fl
monplace. The detective had 3 ned attentive- .7
1y to him, had not tried to any extent to teal-"it’s
his theory to ieces, and had seemed like a very
honest kind 0 a man. ' ‘ " '3

Buck Basin re'oiced, but took a view of tho
matter which ha not occurred to the Brigadiet"
—the detective, being a decent and sensible man.
had perceived the high honor and good jud 'y
of their spokesman, and had been stron ‘im 
pressed in his favor. ‘5;

One and all declared that it was a wise chola:
which had made the Brigadier their leader and.
their bulwark. , ‘r‘

But be walking homeward, was not so his- . . ‘

inc. e felt like anything but a bulwark"
is burden was stronger than he could well has
What would his honest friends say if they knew
that'be was the one man who could have
light on Shaffer Knight‘s fatal—what would
they say if the whole terrible truth ever became»
known? -.

“ A bulwark i” be thought, hopelessly. “
am anything less; I am 0 y a weak
man. and deserve as little credit as 098 a
clougi at night for preventing the shining of the if
sun. . 5:9“

He reached his house and entered. 
I lilnrs. Benmaah ind her son we‘re alone in the
iv g room, a t e virago was and] ow,
ing her views on some subject which hayd _ _
her temper. Clarence was silent—he had'bee'n
strangely silent of late—but as long as he would.»
listen is mother would gladly talk. ‘  i.

It was a scene far from agreeable to the Olaf"?
Brigadier, and he went slowly up-etairs. ,HO ‘
ascended very moderately, for his old wound;
and his secret made him anything but agile. '

His secret!

His brain seemed to burn with the weight
upon it. He was in dire trouble, and there was
none is] wpoml he eggld confide. He felt inei
 y aney. an twasnotstran mafia.»
thoughts went back to a time wheifiove sfis ,
peace reigned at his fireSIde—wh the old days  "
fore trouble and desolation came.

 

I
\

    
    

 

    

18

’I

[om-Baldy. '

 

At the top of the stairs he paused and leaned
heavily upon the balustrade.

“Alone in my old age!” he thought, sadly.
_ “Ah! if my be had not disa peared, this
 , would not have en so. Poor ugh! I will
'3 ' ' never believe he did intentional wrong, but——

 

well .I will hear my cross as well as I can, but it

would be happiness be end ex ression if I had

his strong arms to he p me. believe I could

find courage to tell him all.”

Slowly he entered his own room. He knew

where to find the lamp and matches, and he

moved toward them. t was only the touch of

a match and re lacing of the chimney, and then

,3 i .\ the light flared) upon his narrow line of white
7 hair and his kindly face.

It fell on something else, but he did not sus—

 ' t it. He remained, gazing?J steadily at the

‘ , gameJ Some thought was in is mind, and he

stood like a statue. ‘

; Suddenly the silence was broken, and broken

" " by a deep, hoarse voice.
“ Father I”

The Oil Brigadier started. The half-con-

sumed match dropped from his hand. Had he

I heard arighti That voice! Those words! Nei-

--/ , ther was in place in his poor room, in which no

a. - .foot but his had been set for months. He was

.5 , confused, uncertain, startled. Yet, he turned

'4’ / slowly.
“ . Turned and saw standin before him a man
'5‘, , who was still young—he did not look to be over

, A thirty, and might be much younger—but whose
g"  ' muscular form was clad in miserable rags, and
" whose hair and heard were in confusion. He
might have been a tramp so far as ncatness was
concerned, and he certainly leokod mor~t wretch-
, ed and forsaken of man but he put out his
hands slowly humbly, anc added: '

“‘ Father ( on’t ou know inc?”

2 . " TheOId B ' adier was loaning heavilyagainst

." I . .

“ the table, an his face was working convul—
sivel , but at these Words he opened his arms
, wide y, and the ragged intruder was folded to

,his heart.
Strong and earnest was that cmbraco, but for

m ,a moment no more was said. It was Brigadier

A Bold who first broke the silence.

a ’ “ y holy—my boy i” he murmured, in a trem-

; "blin hus ivoice.

 ‘ “fiy fait ful father!” answered the younger
man, and tears fell profusely on the Old Brig-
adier’s shoulder—tears which 8 ung from the
intruder’s heart and fell from his eyes.

There was no complete sentence spoken for

i vat'seyeral mogsnts, but again and again the elder

* ‘ pea , :

“My boy! my boy i”

'1 The words came from his very heart, and

ere fraught with joy and thanksgiving. He

"was not one to give way to loud ax r ions of

emotion, but that heart was a we] 0 tender-

ness and all its warmth was expressed in his

voice.
3‘4“..me he released his hold, stepped a little
i-“fback an looked the other in the face.

-i “I knew you would come back,” he said,

simply.
“And—and—you are not sorry i”
I Slow and hesitating was the question, and the
 speaker seemed more humble and crushed than
ve

r.
-, “ Sorry !” echoed the Old Brigadier. “ I
 Heaven that it is so. How can you doubt
Lit, gBi'ifih ’

v, ‘ your heart must revolt from me.”

if“ Never! Are you not my son?”

- ‘ ,“ But—you remember how I went away.”

» "You are till my boy, and still I thank
Heaven that look u n you once more.”
«’“Bi’it see how I gave come! See my rags

 

 

  
 
 
   
   
  
 
   
   
 
   
    
  
 
  
   
     
   
 
   
  
 
   
  
     
   
   
  
  

 

E

r
in

in.

 " “ I do not look at the clothes, but at the man,
lid though your face is bearded I once more See
y send—my boy. ,Ay, it is Hugh come back as
- ways felt he would come. Here, mi; boy,
, this chair and sit near the light. t me
‘ m 100;) closeilyogt this5 fags Iedvaatchgd
, cy mano,ascng ayy
' . Sit'by the light. my big.” -
 e rs ged wan erer look uneas .
up“ But a door—it is not fastened.’
'1 ‘ “. There is no way of fastening it."
“ Some way must be found. Place the bed
ugginst it, for no one must see me.”
he Brigadier’s face suddenly grew grave.

7' “ out still
RH“!  bef l '
‘. ’ ' ore rep ying.
» “ T32,” he flnall said.

(“The door he closed. This nail fitted
 the latch, is as good as a lock. There, it is
Mono, and snare new safe. But how did you
me here Do they know—down-stairsl” I
i “No, I came in secretly. like a thief. I dared

fear the consequences of that

nstsoonhegloing. fought not to have stop-
?d, for Imig t compromise you, but I felt that
‘ must look once more on your face, and I was
‘utterly weal-led out. They have hunted me fast
. . and far, as bloodhounds hunt their rey.”

* ., . Hunted you!” echoed the Bri ’er, his face

‘ .

‘fllow nooue to see me and prudence tells me. I .

 

worst. I am an escaped convict, and—they are
on my track l”

He sat there with his ragged figure slouchin
down in the chair, and his manner hopeless and
crushed, while the Old Brigadier looked
ghastly. /

“ You—are—in—trouble—againi” he gasped,
a lon pause between every two words.

“ es, but not throu h any fault of mine—
believe me, not throng my fault!” cried the
youn er man. “ Oh! what evil fate is pursuing
me, t at I am always in trouble? I solemnly
declare that I have never intentionally done
Wrong, yet I am hunted like a mad dog.’

“ ou—have not been charged wlth any seri-
ous crime?”

“If you mean doin harm to a human being,
I freely answer no. ank Heaven, no one can
say that, or does say it. I should die if they
did' I could not bear to be called a murderer.”

The Brigadier started.

“ No, no; of course not.”

“I would not care so much for myself, for I
am accustomed to trouble,” Hugh continued,
humbly, “but it is for my wife and child. My
heart is breaking for them. They are lost.”

It Inst?”

“ Yes, disap ared. It was when Searching
for them that fell ill by the way and was seen
33'] those prison officials, who knew me at once.

ey pursued me; drove me away from my
loved ones.”

This painful, hopeless recital was vague and
incoherent, and the Old Brigadier saw that the
speaker’s mind was not. just right. It might be
affected by the load of trouble, but he suspected
that fever Was in his veins.

“ Tell me all about it," he said, soothingly.

“Don’t ask Illi‘ to—night. Let me go tobed
and rest, rest—that is what I need.”

“ Are your pursuers near?”

“ I think not.”

“ When did you see them last?” ,

“ I fled from them last night when they came
upon my camp in the woods, but I do not think
they saw me. The are not like) to come here
to-night—but still t icy may, and will not bring
trouble upon you. I will go on!’

He started to his feet, but the Brigadier put
out his hand and stopped him.

“ Oh, no! you must not go.”

“But I shall get you into trouble.”

“ I think there is no dun er of that, and if you
do, who could blame me? ou are my son, and
:35 is your proper refuge. Here you shall

‘ But—the folks down-stairs.”
The Brigadier’s face became ve. True,
what of them? He knew both rs. Benmarsh

!

l
l

l
l

!

 

 

and Clarence well enough to be aware that they 1
would take delight in delivering Hugh to the .‘

officers. They hated
not, they would have done it to spite the poor
old Brigadier.

‘f They need not know on are here,” he re-
plied, after a pause. “ either of .them ever
comes into this room, and I will find some way
to feed you. You have come back tome like
one from the graVe, and my heart will not allow
you to go from my sight again. Here you shall
remain, and let any one molest you if he dares!”

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE BEGINNING or A DIFFICULT DECEP’I'ION’.

HAVING formed his plans the Brigadier went
about preparations for Hugh’s comfort and
safety. He never had a suspicion that the young
man was less innocent than he said. As a boy,
the son had been truthful, and his father felt
that he was so still. ‘

No matter what shadows were on the young
man’s life, nor what charges were against him,
he must be innocent.

Brigadier Baldys room was a better refuge
than any other p ace in the village. As has been
said, even Mrs. Benmarsh and Clarence never
came there; there was one good which was the
result of the family estrangement. Unless oili-
cers of law came and made a rigid search, there
was little fear that he would be discovered ex-
ce t by accident.

or a while the Bri adier was puzzled to
know how he was to 9 fed, but he finally
settled that point. Mrs.

 

him, and even if they had 3

 

Benniarsh would miss ,

an food taken away from her larder. but the .
0! man knew that Edwina Conrad would fur- !

nish what was necessary and say nothing.

i
v

Hugh insisted that he must go on in the morr- ‘

ing, so as to avoid any possibility of getting his

father into trouble, but the Brigadier not only !

opposed this plan, but had srnve doubts if he
would be able to pursue his flight.
Some preparations wore made for his comft rt

!

about the room, and then they sat down to talk i

again.

“Tell me about yourself.” said Hugh. “Yew:

look exactl
health mu be fair.
tropble you very much?”

Not particularly. There is some ‘in, but

as you did years ago. Your!
Does your old wound >

o

nothing serious," answered the fa. er, who !
would not have confessed to anything serious ;

then under any circumstances.

“ I learned that people here call you ‘ Briga- :

diet Baldy.’ and I judged that it must be a I c

“The are very kind to me.”

“ An there is no serious cloud on your life?”

It cost the Old Brigadier an effort to answer
as he wished. He remembered that only ashort
time before he had been wishing that he had his
son to confide in; to help bear his load of
trouble; but now the son was come in such dis-
tress that the father would iiot add to his sor—
row. Not for all the world Would he reveal the
facts of Shaffer Knight’s death and acknowl-
edge his crime.

An effort was necessary, but the old, peaceful
smile overspread his genial face.

“ I am as happy as I can be while you are in
trouble,” he answered. “My life here is quiet
and peaceful, and the people, old and young, are
my friends.”

“I am glad you are héppy' glad you have no
care on your mind. ou deserve peace and
rest, and here in this little town sorrow ought
never to come. I am very glad.”

The Brigadier hastened to change the sub 'ect.
He could not bear to have it run in such a c an-
nel. \Vhat would Hugh say if he knew that a
detective was even then on the ground, tracing
a mysteix which might result in the brandin
of Bri a 'er Baldy as a murderer. Yes, he stifi
used t e Word; he would substitute no lighter
one. He had left Shaffer Knight to drown,
and he would admit no farce of extenuating
circumstances.

Hugh began to nod in his chair, despite all his
efforts to keep awake, and the Brigadier insisted
that they should retire. It was done, and Hugh
was soon asleep.

He did not become conscious all ni ht. but his
slumber was not peaceful or restful. ill through
the hours of darkness he rolled and tossed on the
bed, muttering constantly, and the burden of his
trouble was the uncertainty surrounding his
wife and child.

Of himself and the pursuit made by officers
who would drag him to prison, he seemed to have
scarcel athought; be worried only about those
whom e loved.

Brigadier Baldy slept but lit! 1e, for his heart.
was too full. He, too, had almost forgotten his
own troubles; he thought solely of those «f his
son. Hugh had come back, as he had long
hoped he would, but not in the way he de-
sired.

At an moment officers might descend upon
him an drag him to prison.

It was a severe blow to the Old Brigadier’s
tender heart, but he bore up as Well as possible,
and, never doubting Hugh’s innocence, tried to
plan for his future.

In the morning even Hugh had to abandon all
thou hts of resuming his flight. He was soweak
that 6 could hardly leave the  The blood
shot less rapidly through his veins, but to the
fever had suc0eeded a relaxation of all his bodily
and mental force.

Glad indeed was he to listen to the Brigadier’s
“Ad‘iice’ int “fwd. “loom ” “to tiff.”

n so e ep the , ' p0. ‘ g~
gard, and not inclined to talk.

The great point now beoame to feed and care
for him without are the suspicious of Mrs.
Benmarsh or Clarencs. ey were the last per-
sons in the world to be taken into confidence,

and the secret must be kept from them.

‘Hugh declared that he wanted nothing to eat
but the Brigadier, after eating his own break-
fast in the kitchen. left the house and went to
that of Evan Conrad. He found Edwina alone.

She was not looking so bright and cheerful,

as of old, but a smile came to her face as he
aplgeared, and she welcomed him as usual._
th 0t much time did he loss before coming to
6 int.
“ dwina, Ihave known on a good while.”
“ Ever since I was a chil , Brigadier.”
“ And we have been friends?”
“ The best of friends.” ~
“ Edwina. suppose I should—a—ask you to do

' me a favor?”

“I only wish on would: I would do it gladly.
I owe you grati do for a hundred favors, for
re ated kindness. Whatever I can do for you.
W] 1 be gladly done.” ,

“ You will be surprised at mv request.”

“ I am not so sure of that. Whatis it?" asked
the young wife, not a little surprised at his hesi-
tr tier.

“1 v. cut you to make me some kind of l‘roth,
or soup. and a little toast.”

Edwina was surprised, Lut the request d id not
seem mysterious. She believed that she under-
stood it fully. The Brigadiei‘swifc had always
been noted for her vixenish (liEpOSltion, and it.
now looked as though she had actually deprived
him of the necessaries of life.

“Of con Iwill make them," she hastened
to say, “ and' you shall have something mere

bstan l ”

Bu 0

“ Not this morning, Edwina,” ;

“But such things as you mentioned will not
long keep you from being hungry.”

“Did you think they were for me?”

H Yes. 9 ‘

The Brigadier hesitated several moments be-
fore he said more. Then he slowly added:

“There is something about this matter which
’t tell any one, and I have a secret to keen;

0

name implying their love and respect for you.” S 0 one must know a little, but not mu

\‘ ,1,
f‘ y, .’ .1 p. ‘,i“ .1
 l, i“ 2 m ,4 =~«“u-"‘xr

, .

 

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N.

.". 

I .mM

\\

 

‘ sir-"iéflw . ‘L'

 

 

‘5'] "“‘v‘_‘ ' '

-‘ 3",“

’  him. restlessly in his hands.

Those in my own house I dare not trust at all,
and would not if I could. Now, I shall want
some food every day for awhile—I don’t know
how lon . I must get it outside my house, and
I am wifiing to pay for it, but the one who fur-
nishes it must be as silent as the rave. No one
must be confided in. Now, of al the peoplein
Buck Basin, I know of no one I can trust like
on. Are you willing to help me, and do it
lindly i”

It was the most singular speech she  ever
heard from Brigadier Baldys li , audit per-
plexed her a good deal, but not or a moment
did she hesitate.

“Certainly I am,” she answered. .

“And do you think we can keep it a secret?”

“ I think so.”

“ Will it make on too much trouble?”

“Ohl no; it ' be no trouble at all, and I
will gladly do it. I will begin at once.”

And then she hurried cheerfully about and ,
soon had a little repast prepared as the Briga- 

dicr requested. On this occasion he must neces-

sarily carry it in a pail, and somewhat openly, .
but, afterward, he intended to use the cover of j

ni rlit as much as possible.

fi'hen he was gone Edwina gave her Wonder
full scope. What was the meaning of this curi-
ous incident? \Vliat could Brigadier Baldy
want of the food? He had not ap Jared to be
hungr , and had barely tasted of t 0 food she
asked lliin to try. Then why did he want to take
this food away?

Clearly, it must be for some one else, but for
whom? - '

She puzzled over this matter for some time,
but without arriving at any conclusmn. She
could account for the fact in no way.

After awhile her mind turned to a subject
which interested her own more. The Brigadier
had noticed a change in her looks, and though
she did not suspect that there was any, there was
good reason for it.

Since Brian Markoe’s visit she had been wor-
rying inceSsautly. Every moment she expected
to hear that Evan was arrested for the murder
of Shafl'er Knight. Her faith in his innocence
never wavered, but she knew that Markoe had
the will to make the charge and was liable to do
so at any time. .

It was this which made the little woman look
less cheerful than of old. _

She was brooding over it on this occasion
when Evan returned. He, too, had been using
his eyes, and though he could not mention a
point Where she had failed to do her duty, he
was dissatisfied. He could not avoid mention-
ing it now.

“ What is troubling you, Edwina?” he abrupt-
ly asked.

“What do you mean?” she asked, with a

“ You seem to be worrying about something.
You, who used to be so light-hearted and gay,
are now as sad and grave as a nun.”

“Nonsense, Evan 1” she retorted, lightly.

“ I wish it were nonsense. but my eyes have
been busy. and I cannot help seeing that some-
thing is troubling you. Before we Were mar-
ried you used to assertthat you told me all your
ambled Why shouldn‘t on do so now i”

“ I would if they were 1 connected with
us, but do you know I am afrui all this excite.
ment about the agent will result in more exac-
tions from the people of Buck Basin by Sinclair
Rhodes.” '

Her excuse relieved Evan’s mind apparently.

“ If that is all. you need not worry; matters
can’t be much worse than at present. Forget
all about it, my dear.”

And then he tried to be gay, and Edwina did
her part, but in spite of all her efforts the

shadow would now and then return to her face. .

She could not forget Brian Markoe, the secret
he claimed to hold, and his threat.

 

CHAPTER XXV.
A escrow. or ners.

FLORALICF: HEATH sat in the parlor where
she passed the greater of her time. She
had been trying to read. but the book, though
intensely interesting, had failed to hold her at-
tention. She had laid it down and was think-

/  intently.
, he was amused by a knack at the door, and
When she absently bade the applicant enter,

Clarence Webber appeared. She arose quickly,
bu” Mt because he was a welcome visitor. Far
from it- He had been a persistent suitor for her
hand. eyen after he had been decisively rejected,
and-hi8 Persistence had made him even more ob-
nOXIOIIS than he Would'otherwise have been.

Helkncw that he was not welcome, and made
a quick, deprecatinr gesture, \

‘ Don’t Send m" away.” he said, almost hum-
bly. “ I want to talk with you.”

‘Be seated. the“, and I will listen,” she an-
swered, as courteously an ponsible, and hoping
he would not. say anything unpleasant:

She had tried to tolerate him because he was
an inmate of Brigadier Baldy's house, butit was

~ dlmcnlt.
‘ “ I havecome to say that I  to ledge

.Buck Basin," Clarence announ

 

 
 

Old Baldy.

“ Indeed!”

It was not an encouraging reply, for it indi-
cated relief on her part.

“ Yes; I have decided to 0 into business”

“ That is a. praisewurthy ecision.”

“I have a chance to go into a bank in St.
Louis at a fair salary, with good prospects of
advance.”

“ Better still. I congratulate you Every
young man ought to make a strong effort in

usiuess, and the sooner he.starts, the sooner he
will get established.”

.“ Just my view,” said Clarence, brightening.
“My ill health has been against me here, for I i
haven’t the strength to Work on land. Besides I
there is no encouragement in Buck Basin. I i
have not worked here and some persons have 1
been down on me. but I am going to show them i
that I have the will and ability to succeed. I ;
ex ct to be a rich man some day.” .

This seemed rather premature, but Florahce ,
assured him that she hoped so.

“ Do you, really?” be asked, quickly.

“ I WlSh success to every honest emlcavor.”

“Of course I am honest, and I am groin to
‘ fight the, battle bravely. The only drawbac is
that I shall be wholly among strangers.”

“ You will soon make new uaintances.”

“But they will not be like he old. Now, I
have been inking thatif I could b'wn one true 1
friend there, to cheer my hours of IGISIII‘} and-
and to share my ros erity, it W'Olllu be very

leasant. I have eci ed totry for such a thing.

iss Heath, you have mid that you did not care i
to link your fortune with mine, butI was with- i
out work and without pros *cts at that time. .
Now that all this is Chang I have decided to i
give you another chance—that is, to ask you 5
again. Floraliee, will you be my wife and go
with me to my new home i” ‘

Rapidly he turned his hat, and even faster did I
he speak. He was nervous, though not from 1
natural timidity; he cxpectui another refusal. ‘
and in his excitement poured forth his proposal
asthough every moment was of vital import- ,

\ance.

But he read his fate in Floralice’s face before
she s oke.

“ am sorry to hear you say this,” she grave— ‘
ly re lied.

u my?” .

“ Yes. We have before talked on this subject,
and I have spoken so plainly that it ought to be
settled.”

“ But my new prospects—”

He hesitated, and she finished the sentence:

“ Are fortunate for you, but I cannot share
thfim'” 1 ed ' h'

n angry g cam appear in is eyes.

“ You are determined to scorn me, ain’t you?”

“ I scorn no one, but, like eve one else, must
be allovved to manage my own airs. Forgive
me if I speakly lainly, for I only want to make
you see how use ess it is to speak further on this
subject.”

“ Then on positively decline?”

“ I musi”

He was silent for a moment, and then an
ominous twinkle a red in his eyes.

“ Miss Heath, w t would you say of an hon-
est man who waa willing to take for his wife a
woman who had once figured as a criminal?”

“ I should say he was very foolish.”

“ Does he deserve no credit for being so for-
givin ?”

“ T ere is so much to be said in arguing this
question that I don’t think I will try.”

“ You ought to be interested.”

“ I? Why?” ,

“ Because you are the woman to whom I
allude. You carry your head hi h in Buck
Basin, but there are those who now your ;

. I am one of them. A word from me
would ruin you. but I prefer not to speak. I ;
want to be your friend, not your enemy. Neces-
sity, however, kn0ws no law. Your beauty has ‘
maddened me, and I cannot bear refusal.” '

f‘ You doseem to be mad,” Floralice answered,
With surprismg calmness. “ You talk wholly
at random. How dare you make accusations
against me?”

f‘Thom isn’t much to dare. Perhaps you
think I don’t know our record. Perhaps you
think I don’t know the episode of the convict re
leased from prison by you and thrown in the
river, but the ofllcers are still searching for you.
A word from me and you will be arrested.” ,

“ hon are talking nonsense,” coolly, steadily !
replied Mm Heath. “ I know nothing what- 5
ever about the matters you allude to. and I de~ I
cline to hear more. You have insulted me by
assuming that I am a criminal. This is the .
crowning Offense of the series you have heaped
upon me. and forgiveness. even endurance, is at
an end. You will find the door at ‘your right.
Good-night. sir!”

She had arisen and was towering before him 3
in queenly anger. imperious and beautiful as a f
heroine of feudal days, but e demon in his
nature was aroused. and he id not stir. I

“ Not so fast. my disdainful sweetheart. If I
go. I shall send an officer to'arrest you.” 1

“Youcando IO as seen as you chooce,but
you or glean this room atonce. Will you go!” ‘

“Then IsHaiifl' ‘
' ‘ /.\  ,3. f.

 

 

--

 

 

‘ blindly to her fate.

, proud spirit quails. It can be done. if only the

even though he was continuall orrying, about
ihinwifeandchild. Hediduotyéfltto cum
I storv. and the Old Brigadier asked no qu slim

  
  
   
  
   
   
  
   
   
 
  
    
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
 
     
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
   
    
   
   
  
   
  
 
    
 
   
  
   
    
     
       
  
   
      
   
    
   
  
    
   
  
   
  
     
      
     
    
    
      

19:

-n-.- _.\ ‘

She started toward the door, but he quickly
arose and stepped before her.

“ You dont go until you have promised to
marry me!” he hissed.

Another moment and he was looking into the
fiiaurazle of a. revolver, held by her unwavering

n .

“I command you to let me pass!” she ex-
claimed in a voice as inexorable as fate.

Webber’s thin face grew colorless. He was
not a brave man, and had always felt- somewhat .
afraid of her, a woman of larger stature and
stronger mind than he. Now he felt unspeak—
abl small and weak, and he recoiled in alarm.

'l’he way was clear, and in a moment more
she had swept like a queen from the room.

The moment she was gone, his courage re«
turned, and a curse fell from his lips. He was
disgusted at his own cowardice, and felt like-
doi something desperate. Ila had a revolver,
and e half-drew it, resolved to ursue and.
bring her to terms, but he was not al lost to the
sense of caution, and he thought better of it. - ,1
He was defeated, and the safest way was to. \. "
make the best of a. bad affair and get away at
once.

He went, sullenly enough, and with revenge 
brooding in his heart. Once outside, he hesi-~ V,"
fated for a moment, and then, apparently com—
ing to a crnclusion, strode away in the dark--
ness. He was soon beyond the village, and then.
a woman suddenly confronted him.

The quiet manner in which he receiwd ber'
Showed that he was not surprisml.

“ You have failed!” she exclaimed, in a harsh, .
tense voice. ‘

“ How do you know?” ‘

“ Had she received you as a lover, you would I, ' '
not have been back so soon. "

“ You are no fool, Leah, and if it were not
for her—” , I

“ \Vhat did she say ?”

“Scorned me, ordered me from the house, and ‘
drew a revolver to enforce her demands.” ' I

“ Fool!" cried the Gypsy girl, “she will rush. 
I have tried to save her, “'
Well, there is yet;

 

but she will not have it so.
one thin to try—the knife!”
“The nife?’ b 
“Yes. She will find that I can strike hard «
and true; strike to her heart I” ‘ . 
“Hold onl” cried VVebber. “By Jawge! I ’1 u
don’t vote for any such deed as that; I didn’t» 1' '
become your ally to have the woman I love cut- - -'
down like a sheep. It would be fine for you to ,
kill her and have Hendrickson all to yourself.
but what of me? Where should I come in? ‘_
Egad! I’m not going to have Floralice harmed.”  '
‘And have I helpeclg'ou only to have you tin‘n." ‘
against me now?” cri Leah, angrily. r ' .
“ Helped me! What have you done?” , _
“ I showed you a way to win." ‘\ 1 ’
“Perhaps you will also convince Floralice,”" w '.~
grimly su gested Clarence. “ By Jawge: Iwish ‘ “.1 '5‘,
you won] , but it’s out of the question. As to  "w?
aving her killed to satisfy your spite, I won”; 
hear of it. But I’ve got- a plan.” i 
“ What is it?" '
“ I want her abducted and shut up until her,

right means are used. NOW, there is your;   “
mother and two brothers—what is to 
their being her ’ ‘  w
“What! atthe tyi” \ ‘.‘;-¢+2
“Of course not: she must be taken Ami-fl.
somewhere, and I know of no better place than. with»
the Pyramids. Yonder hills show up singll be" it“ "
side the Rockies, but I know from experience"
that there are many quiet places there
your family and Floralice could stay
found.” .' .‘ 
Leah remained silent and thoughtful for a. 
moment. , ‘ ,, f ‘ r
“ Hendrickson would search for her,” she fin-v
ally answered. ‘ ‘ "
“ Write a’ note purporting to be from begin!
Erich, he would be informed that she had gohh

st. v ,

“ Pll do it!” Leah exclaimed. “Hagar I» i'
and the men obey my every word, and I‘ll 
to the oint this time. Floraiice‘ shall be .  g
and teen to the Pyramids, and Hendrichon,
will never see her again 1”   ~. .

  

re all... 3‘ 
‘neVer

 

CHAPTER XXVI.
SOKETBING ABOUT nu. 30m. '
HUGE Binnulnsa’s first day under his father‘s '
roof quietly with him. No one 
that the Brigadier had a man concealed time.»
The virago mistress of the place generally laugh,
her voice audibledn the style Hug remembered?
so well of old, for even when alone she could not...
curb her fan for scolding, but she did not in-
trudeinthe . . '
She had once declared that “sixteen spouting
horses” could not dragherthere, but the Briga- {2.
dier took the precaution of quiet] Exiting ' < ~

       
    
  

lock on the door. The woman migh c

mind. , . ~_ -
H h k} the bed nearl all do and ' ‘~ 
once?!3 a blind sense of ¥elief uglieingm? ’

   

    

 
   

He set the example of confidence, liO\\'(‘\ er, by 3..

1

   

-...,‘. _m “fiat—w-“ mm...

, 20'

Old Baldy.

~.,........-_..¢ « .

 

explaining the situation at the village in regard
to Shaffer Knight’s case, telling it from the pub-
lic standpoint; and before he realized the fact
 he had admitted that the people considered
.-, , themselves menaced asa whole, and had selected
9, him as their spokesman, and the bulwark to re-
 pel the odium which Pray sought to cast upon
3 the town.

Hugh declared that it was a wise choice, and
he believed what he said.

The Brigadier found an active aid in Edwina,
and though she had not the slightest idea for

17..”—
“

  
   
   
  
   
  
  
    
   
  
  
  
   
     
  
    
 
   
   
   
   
  
   
    
    
    
  
   
   
  
   
   
   
  
   
    
    
   
   
  
   
    
   
  
   
    
  
  
  

quested with a skill w iich did her great credit.
She was glad to help her kind old friend, even
though it was done blindly.

if Bernard Boyne, detective, had made an
progress during the da . He had been over a i
the village and along t e river, devotin several
hours to an examination of the latter’s anks.
It was known that he had picked up and saved
a quantity’ of fallen leaves and twigs, and
though they did not know what connection
' these had With the case, it was so like the work
of eat detectives that, taken in commotion
wit the fact that Mr. Boyne liked to have other
persons talk. but had little to say himself, it was
agreed that he was a ve sh man, who would
probably et at the who e trut .
V Hu h enmarsh slept better that night. and
7 .foun himself stronger in the morning. When
he had eaten breakfast be dressed fully in a suit
of the Brigadier’s garments and moved about
the room with more strength than was to be ex-

pected.
The Brigadier went out to show himself to the
, village people, so that his absence might not
seem strange, and was gone two hours.
' When he returned he gave the usual quiet
’ signal at the door of the chamber, but had to
I repeat it several times before Hu h made any
’ » .1: ,wer, and then he made sure 0 his fathers
’ ,i entity before turning the key.
' This unusual caution surprised the Brigadier,
sand he was more surprised when he entered, to
,,.see that Hugh’s calmness had given place to
‘ . great excitement. The young man quickly
‘ ‘closed and secured the door.
, “ What is wrong?” Brigadier Baldy asked,
with a sinking heart. “ Havo you been seen?”
"‘ Not yet.”
- “ Does any one suspect that you are here?”
j “ I believe so—I don’t know. I saw him walk
. past the house and look this way.”
“ Who?”
,_ “ Sit down and I will tell you. I am too weak
/~ ‘to stand.”
Hugh dropped into a chair, and his father saw
, that some calamity had undone the gain in
-',:.strength before perceptible. Heavy, indeed,
"7,135: the Old Brigadier’s heart.
i r The younger man leaned his head ‘upon his
mama, an' remained for a moment in silence.
"Then he middenly asked:
 ‘i Whom do you suppose I have seen?”
3 “ I can’t imagine.”
“ Edwards!”
"fEdwards?’ .
j , .“ Yes, you remember him; you must remem—
  Edwards, the evil enius of my life, the
" 7 but for whom I shou (1 today be honored
~ » all; the wretch who made me a fugitive and
' outcast on the face of the earth!”
. He spoke vehemently, and the Brigadier gazed
,at him in startled sur rise. It was lain that he
;,Iinderstood, and that e was as muc dismayed
 Hugh. Twice he attempted to s , how-
‘ yer. before a word passed him lips. *
xYou saw him—here!” he y exclaimed.
es.
“Where?” .
'“ He the house, and, though he did not
utop, looked the whole front of the place over
‘mfully. He even glanced at yonder window,
, ~ hi I left only a narrow opening for observation
" M do not think he saw me. He is in Buck
11, and must know I am here.”
 ‘.‘ Are you sure it was he?”
,  “Yes. He has changed greatly, but I knew
 at once.”
u it plot”

 

     
    

   
   
    
  
     
    
    
  
    
  
  
   
   
    
    
     
    
   
 

at

“' be he is one of our
“ More likely he is hunting or me.”
"‘ But he would not dare.”
~" True; he would be more inclined to avoid
me. Ha! I did not think of that. He must be
seized and made known to the police. Do you
' Inow him? He is a medium—sized man, with
b k hair and heard.” ~
‘ ‘ ‘ That would apply to several of our men.”
 .“ He’s no tiller of the soil. He has too fair
' Md! and face for that; he must be leading a
* ‘ n’s life.”
a ‘ The Brigadier shook his head, .
g  , “That don‘t apply to any one here that I can
"‘ 1km): of.” '
& “One thing more. I noticed that he wore a
g-shirt with a white ground, upon which narrow
'Tn'own stripes crossed so as to form squares or
zdiamonds.” . ’
 The Brigadier suddenly. raised his head.
' “ What’s that!” he cried.
’ Hugh repeated the description.
 . "“ Why, there‘s only' one man here who an-
;fii- am that, and he s Bernard Boyne, the de-
‘, “active engaged by Pray. It was surely be that

whom she was cookin ,she prepared what he re- 1

When night fell, the people asked themselves ‘

you saw, but—you must be wrong about his be-
ing Edwards.”

‘Do you suppose I could forget that face?
Never! So he is a detective now? Ha! what is
he here for, if not to hunt me down?”

He was growin very much excited, but Brig-
adier Baldy saw t at he must act his usual part
of comforter, so he forced himself to be calm,
and earnestly replied:

“ That is inmossilile, my boy. He came here

several days in advance of you, and, besides,
do you suppose he would dare arrest, or molest
: you? Celtainly not; he has more reason to fear
i and flee from you.”
i “ True, true; I forgot again. liin head docs
J not seem capable o reasoning. e is here;
I that much is certain. Now, if it were not for
; later affairs, I could have him seized for that
i old crime but I dare not put myself before the
public. Lontinued ill-luck has followed me,
and it is my destiny to skulk like a wolf all my
life.”

Brigadier Bald did not answer.

He knew that t e latest discovery was an im-
portant one.

It had just occurred to him that Bo ne acted
very peculiarly when they were intr need, and
he now found an explanation of it. Boyne real—
ly was Edwards, and the Old Brigadier’s famil-
iar, yet peculiar name had struck a chord of
memory.

He was startled, and his talk about heart
disease amounted to nothing; it was merely a
cover for his agitation.

It Was a peculiar chance which had brought
these two old associates to the same town after
a lapse of time measured by years, but the Brig-
adier could see no danger in the situation. On
the contrary, he had a vague hope that good
might come of it. Carefully he went over the
whole ground for Hugh’s benefit and his logical
presentation of the case caused the oung man’s
face to grow brighter. 'Where be ad been de
sponding, he now grew hopeful.

The Brigadier remained with him until noon,
and then went to dinner. Clarence was not at
the table, but his mother was, and she soon
proved that she had something to say.

“ Benmarsh,” she abru 1y observed, “ my
Clarence wants to go into usiness.”

“ Does he?”

“ Yes and I want you to give him a couple
hundred dollars to do so.”

“You ought to be aware that we have not
one-tenth part of that sum.”

“ Borrow, then.”

“I do not know who would loan; besides, it is
definitely understood that I give Clarence no
money. I board him; that is all I can do.”

Mrs. Benmarsh laid down her knife and fork,
and her thin face assumed a strained look.

“ Am I to understand, Benmarsh, that you re—
fuse to 've my Clarence the paltry sum of two
hundro dollars?”

“I said we had not any such sum,” mildly re-
plied the Bri ier.

“Benmars i, in one word, will you give the
money or not?”

“ I cannot. and—”

“ That settles it! You deny my Clarence the
necessaries of life, and the pittance which he

‘ would soon be able to turn and swell to an enor-

mous amount. This is because he is my son.
Perhaps, sir, you have forgotten the fortune
you lavished to put your son through college,
and how be rewarded you by committing for-
ge'B" and—” i

6 Old Brigadier suddenly raised one hand.

“ Stop!” he said, in a deep voxce.

“ Oh! it is very well for you toact the tyrant.
So I am not to mention ' our son—”

“ Do I ever criticise arencei” .

“Howcan you? He is too gentle. kind and
lovable to be spoken of except with admira-
tion—a model gating“ man, Benmarsh, I’d have
you understan . t when he commitsa for-
gery and hasto run from the police you may
criticize him and—”

Brigadier Bald did not hear the rest. He
had arisen from he table and one hurriedly
from the hause, but for half an our Mrs. Ben-
marsh discoursed in the same strain, using his
name as though he had been there, and saying
every bitter thing that occurred to her.

In the mean time the Brigadier had one his
way as peacefully as ever. Scenes 11 e that
were common in his h and he scarcely gave
it additional thought, little suspecting the true
reason wh Clarence wanted the money, or
what woul come of his refusal.

Before he reached the center of the village he
was {opined by Game Chicken.

“ say, neral,”abruptlybegan the reformed
pugilist, ‘ kin you tell me whar Ed Hendrick-
son is?”

“ I have not seen him.”

“Mi hty curious whar he is, but it’s jest his
way. as a great chap ter be prowlin’ around.
Ef he was ez orner oz 1 be, he’d be set down
er. a burglarious biped, or somethin’ 0' that sort.
E1  we ’charitably s'pose he‘s a botanizer or

co nor. \
g “ Do you want to see him particularly?”

“I do, that.”

 

The ex-nugilist took ofl.’ his hat and scratched
his head slowly.

I

 

[ “ Thar’s somethin’ I can’t understand.”

“ Indeed?”

“ Yas. I may be wrong, but I’m afeard a
sartaiu damsel 0’ this burg has 0t inter
trouble, Now, thar’s a letter lying on endrick—
son’s table, an’ I opine it‘s from her, an’ it may
explain all straight—but 0’ course you don’t un-
derstand.”

“ No, I do not.”

Game Chicken a ain scratched his head. He
rather hoped the rigadier Would question him,
but as it was not done he abruptly asked:

“You know Floralice Heath?”

“Certainly.”

“ Do you s’pose thar is a reptyle in this town
mean enough ter steal heri”

“ I should certainly hope not. Do you mean
to imply that such is the case?” anxiously asked
the Brigadier.

Instead of anSWering, the eccentric pugilist
dashed awa like a sprint-runner, and the Brig—
adier saw endrickson advancing.

 

CHAPTER XXVII.
COLLECTING CLEWS.

GAME CHICKEN did not pause 'in his headlong
course until he met Hendrickson, who had
viewed his advance with a philosophy born of a
knowledge of the man’s ways. But the ex—pugi-
list broke out explosively:

“ I say, commodore, there’s a letter waitin’
for go on yer boodlewor table that you want ter
rea right away. I smell smoke.”

“ He 10, Ben, what’s the trouble?” .

“Don’t know, but I’ll say ter ye in confor-
dence, read that letter immediate.”

“ How do you know that I have one i”

“ Went in ter see ye; not at home; letter thar.
Go an’ read it. I’m mum till yer do.”

Hendrickson smiled, for though Game Chicken
seemed excited this did not awaken any fears on
his part. The tender-hearted pugilist was
stirred violently by small affairs. Accompa-
nied by him the young man went to the hotel
and to his room, and there was the letter. It
was addressed in a lady’s writing, and he opened
it at once.

He read as follows:

“Ma. Haunmcxsouz—lt may not be a very
polite way of taking leave of a friend, but I have de-
cided to bid a long, if not eternal. fareWell to Buck
Basin, and it is my foible to go uieily and avoid
all the sham of formal good byes. usinrss calls me
t another State, and as it is quite likely that We
may never meet again, I take this opportunity of
saying that I am grateful to you for brightening my
otherwise dull hours at this little town. Our ac-
quaintance has been pleasant, and I shall remember

on kindly. Please accept my good wishes for the
uiure, and believe me your riend,
“ mucs Hum."

Hendrickson crushed the letter in his hand.

“ Hello!” quoth Game Chicken,” what is the
uproar now?

“Excuse me, but this is a private letter,”

Hendrickson answered, annoyed by such a blufl
interruption at that time.

“ Certain; to be sure. Don’t go for ter s’pose
I’d lip in fur any ccmmon reason, but I’ve got a
bee in my bunnit, an it’s probin’ my Vitals. I
smell smoke. Allow me ter interrogate a few.
Do that istle proport ter be from Miss Flor-
alicc Hes h? Ef so, are it combatable wi’ ther
doctrine 0’ common sense i”

“ This note,” Ifiplied the young man, “informs
me that Miss e
Basin.”

“ Over her own signature?”

“Certainly.”

“ Do you believe it?”

“ Believe she has gone?”

“ Do ye b’lieve she writ ther note?”

Bendrickson started and looked keenly at his
com ion.

“ ave you reason to doubt it, Ben ?”

“ We], er; I hev store observed, I smell
smoke, an’thisis how she rises: Some riod
ago I was mearderm’ throu h the bu es at
ther foot 0’ ther Pyramids, w en I see’d them
two Lee heelcrs, Kit an’ Nat, skulkin’ in ambush
like Injuns waitm’ fur pre . Bez I ter myself,
sex I, ‘ What are they at' Looks 92 though
they was adayin’ fur sonzethin’.’ 0’ course I
knew it might corr mon game, but I had sec-h
a wounded poor opinion 0’ them that I feared
they was up for mischief.”

“ Well, 0 on—go on i” 1, .

“ Wal. Izsorter lingered, but then thinks I,
this is foolish, for they had lived some time at
Buck Basin, an’ been law-abidin’ citizens ‘ez fur
oz I knew. So I went on my way. Keepin‘ in
ther trees ez aforesaid, I wen about one-quarter
o’ a mile, an’ then turned ter ther left to come
back ter town. E: I broke cover, w'at d’ye
s’pose I saw?” .

“ Floralice Heath was Jest enterin’ ther bushes
at ther 'int whar I see’d them G psies in am-
bush. ow, pard, I didn’t like ther coks 0’ that,
fur I knew she was not goin for gcod comp’ny.”

“You sl'oul‘d have .astcned to her aid at

' once.” broke in Hendrickson, who had grown

excited.

“ I did go that way right 011', though not in
any great haste: I didn’t want ter lip in whar I
had no call. Them Lees are no (hicks. sn’sf
they was tor climb me with six or eight six-

 

ath has abruptly left Buck .

i.

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01d Baldy.

21,

 

 

shooters, all ther Marquis o’ Quecnslmrry science
in ther world wouldn’t ’a’ saved me."

“ Go on. that did you see?”

“ Nothin’. When I got thar, thar wasn’t a
bles§d  o’ ther girl or ther Lees.”

H 0??

“ Nar sign."

“ Did you search thoroughly?”

“ I did, an’ even went so fur ez ter jog over ter
ther Lee shanty an’ a )ply fur admission. That
was all I did; I di n’t go in. Thor door was
lockel, nn’ not a sign could I see o‘ ther Gy s.
I took another turn in ther timber, an’ fai in’
ter raise a sign, concluded ter call on you an’
tell ther storv. You was not in, but that thar
letter was, an I felt mighty curious ter know
what was in it.”

“ How long ago was it that you saw Flo—
ralice?”

“ Not over an hour an‘ a half.”

“This letter would lead me to suppose she had

left town. I believe it is a forgery, and that
she has fallen into the hands of enemies. Fol-
low me!”

And Hendrickson strode from the room, fol-
lowed hy the ever-ready Game Chicken.

The young man imlicved that he saw the hand
of Leah Lee in this. Probably she had forged
the letter he had just read, while b some trick
Floralica had been decoyed into the ands of the
dusky people. Only for Game Chicken’s chance
discovery the scheme might have worked well,
but as it was, it had collapsed at the very start,
so far as deCeivin him was concerned.

But Florahce? 'here was she?

Hendrickson ground his teeth and strode to-
ward the Pyramids in a ferocious mood. He
knew that Leah had the will to do almost any
dark deed, and if her brothers had been called
to her aid she had the means.

To what extent Leah would carry her desire
for revenge remained to be Seen. -

It was not a long walk to the foot of the
Pyramids, and the two men soon reached the
dusky people’s shanty. It had a deserted air at
first glance, and when they reached the door
they found it locked, as Game Chicken had said.
Re ted knocking brought no response.

191?: ex-pugilist grew excited and suddenlg,
without taking advice of Hendrickson, e
raised a large stone and hurled it against the
door.

It flew open promptly.

The interior of the shant was reVealed, and
told its own story at a. g nce. It was even
more barren than usual, and what few articles
remained weiQ in confusion.

Hendrickson strode inside, and found his first
impressions confirmed. The place was deserted.
Everything indicated a more or less hasty de-
parture, and this was especially significant; it

ooked as though Floralice had been captured—
or worse—and the whole gang had then abrupt-
ly vacated the shanty.

“ Lead me to where you saw the Lees in am-
bush,” suddenly directed the young man. _

.Game Chicken obeyed. They went almost in

 

: informationhe wanted.

silence, for a common fear was in their minds. 
Was it merely“? case of abduction, or had a '

dark tragfdy
tir'ili‘ger? ,
, 9- ex-wailist “lunged to locate the lace of
ambush  There waccvidence that the
men bad you there some little tidie. The
rass was beaten down, and several twigs had

n broken from the adjoining bushes, Here
was the Gypsies lair; but where had the attack
been made on Floralice—if one had been made?

The men searched carefully, but without re-
sult. Neither was a trailer, and they 0 find
no sign. They made a search through the lower
part of the Pyramids, but without result.

Then they started back to the vil e in any-
thing but a ha py state of mind. fish were
sure Floralice ‘had been abducted by the Lees,
and though proof was lacking. they felt that
something on ht to be done at once. But how
wemthepeoaribe madotoscethe necessity
of it,.unless is enamity was ex laincd

This was the question that troub Hendrick-

con, and he determined to make the search a
private one.

,He would on two orthnae men, anion
them a t ollower, and use every effo
to find ralice. If she was to be kept prisoner

it seemed very robable that some place in the
heart of tho yramids would be used as a

There was no pther suitable place near, for
01117“ng was the prevailing prairie inter-

ru .
go Hendrickson and Game Chicken returned
to the vulafe, secured an old Indian-fighter IS 3
trailer, an with another man to make up a
quartette. set ofi.’ among the mountain hills.
Unknown to them, a very interesting scone
was at that timetaking place in the room at the
hotel devoted to the use of Bernard Boyne.
Whether he was a tdetoctive or not, he had
common sense. and {occurred to him that tlmre
. cu ht to be some endonce at Shader Knight's
a: quarters to show why he had taken the
journey to Buck Basin.
Accordingly, one of his first 3 waste write
t here be thor-

and direct at any  ht' . m
g s associa

n enacted in the shadow of the I

 

be questioned to see if he had made any explana-
tions before his departure.

This investigation was made by a local officer.
and out of the chaff he obtained was brought
one item which soon assumed great importance
in Boyne’s eyes. Knight had been a moody, un-
social, uncommunicative man, but he had neces-
sarily had some acquaintances. One of them re-
ported the following]:

The day before t c agent’s fatal journey he
and the witness had been sitting in unimportant
conversation when a letter was brought to
Knight. He had read it with manifest signs of
annoyance, and then angrily said:

“ Off again on the road. These infernal
tenants need to be lashed all the time like an
unruly ox to keep them in the furrow. Here’s
a man in Buck Basin who has been trying to
swindle Sinclair Rhodes, and now he is going to
be married and run away with the proceeds of
his harvest, leaving Rhodes money out.”

The witness asked one or two questions, but
Knight seemed to have repented of this unusual
flow of confidence, and he gave absolutely no
more information.

This was all that the corresponding officer had
to tell, but it was very im rtant to Pray and
Boyne. The farmer’s eyes rightened.

‘ Ha! do you remember what I told you
a.ng the note thrown into my chamber?” he
as .

“ That which asked you if you had noted the
fact that Knight was killed on the same evening
of Evan Conrad’s marriage? Exactly. Signifi-
cant isn’t it?”

“ I should say so, rather.”

“ Looks very much as though Knight came
here on (purpose to see Conrad.

“ An that Conrad killed him.”

“Yes. though that don’t follow necessarily.
If Conrad was the murderer, why hasn’t he got
away from here, knowing, as he did, that there
was danger of the object of Knight’s visit be-
comin known? Also, and this is more to the
point, if he had done anything crooked and in-

nded to flee before his marriage, why hasn’t
be gone? Even if Kni ht was dead, some other
agent would discover t e crookedness. But it is
not our place to defend Conrad. We must et
to work and see if we have grounds upon which
to accuse him.

“.If we want to know whether he killed
Knight, we must first trace his movements that

, evening. According to our theory your late

rtner must have reached the vicinity of Buck
asin before the hour set for the wedd . The
great question now becomes, can Cour prove
an alibi for the early hours of the evening? We
will at once examine witnesses to determine that
point.”

CHAPTER XXVIII.
sriNNiNo run was.

BOYNn now felt the need of some strategy, and
he looked about for the best means of get ' the
The people seem dis-
to go in a body, and, thus far,‘ he had dis-

covered no tty spite of which he could take
nod’vaggage gather news prejudicial to Evan
nr .

Knowin of no villain, he looked about for a
fool, well nowmg that these two classes div1dc
the mischief done in the world between them.

He soon lit upon the proper man. This was a
young fellow named Hardy; a person who would
not have willingly harmed any one, but who had
so thick a head that he was quite as dangerous.

He was escorted to a room under a very plaus-
ible pretext. Mr. Boyne wished to draw a map
of the villa? and vicmity. Could Mr. Hardy,
who knew t 6 local“: 80 well, help him to make
it accurate? Mr. ardy felt flattered and
thought he could, and the work began.

The detective alIOWed his fish plenty of line
before mnmng work,_a.nd the ma was half
drawn re the campaign opened. hen Boyne
prepared for action. .

“ A tree goes dawn here, don‘t it, Mr. Hardy?
I thought so. By the wa are you a married
man? No? Why I shde suppose the girls
would have 9000 in such a good-looking fel-
low lon ago. on on ht to pattern from your
friend urad. Does t a river bow as much as
that at this paint? Exactl ; all right. Conrad
is a hap y man; why shou dn't you be? Afraid
of the 18? Nonsense! you don’t look it. Take
exanfip e from Conrad.” ~-

“ is coura e nearly give out.”

“ No! Didlt?”

“ I b’lieve so,” said Hardy, with a wise nod.
“ He was late that ev‘nin’-—ject think on’tl Late
at his own weddin’. He said he had been walk-
in’ by he river to take his last bachelor smoke,
but I on’t b’lieve it. I think he nigh about
backed out. ”

“By Georch you may right. It’snotliko-
ly a man would orget a do for a pipe.”

“ Just my idea.”

It was not his idea, but he thought he had ad-
vanced a brilliant point to turn banter away
from himself.

“ The ‘mcre factthat he went down to the riv-
er to smoke shows that he was nervous and
wanted to be alone.’

“ So I think.”

 

“ Do you su pose he really did go there—down
by the river. mean?”

“ He said so.”

“Are you sure?”

LL es.”

“ Ab! and he was late at the wedding. How
late?”

“ Oh! only fifteen minutes or so." ,a
“ Was he still nervous when he came in—ex-
cited?”

“ Yes. he was.” -

“ “'hat a bashful fellow! Does Smith‘s house
go down here? I thought so. I don't sup=ose
Conrad was so afraid that he was pale. was e?”

“I thought he did look a good bit White.”

“ And excited I?”

M X'es.”

“He took his walk by the river all alone, .
didn’t be!” t

“ So he said.”

“ It is singular,” said Boyne, leaning back in
his chair and speaking very slowly. “ that during ~
thiswalk he did not see anything of the man
who was murdered there at just about that
hour!”

Hardy’s face flushed. He might be thick—
headed, but this cool, significant speech, coming
directly after the conversation already had,
could not but sug st to him that he had made a 
grave blunder. e wished Evan Conrad well, \
and was startled by the idea that he had un- "
wittingly made statements which might bring“
sus icion upon him.

e romptly tried to undo the mischief, and
Mr lib he was apparently kind enough to 
him. hen convmced that he had learned .
that Hardy could tell he discreetly smoothed the»
matter over and suggested that none of them ,
mention the possibility which their idle re— ‘ - 3; ,
marks called up—it might annoy Conrad. fl

\’ '>

.,s 1‘ .

x

.y:
00“.”

Then Hard breathed freer, to the
suggestion an the map—making went on. When 
it was finished he was dismissed with ilite ._-.‘
thanks, and Pray shook hands with the etec— '*;
tive showing an exuberance quite unusual to ‘.
his melancholy nature. \1' '

“By the Old Nick! we are on the track!” he ‘ ' ;,
declared. , 3:!

“Think so?” \ 1’ .

“Of course I do. Don’t you?” . A w l

“ I think,” coolly aiiSWered Boyne, “that we  -:
have begun the spinning of a web which will ‘f
bring Evan Conrad to the gallows. Knight. ,
came to Buck Basin on a mission deeply hostile ‘ 9;
and dangerous to Conrad, and was murdered at it
a certain hour near the Arrow River. At that» ,'
verfi'fltime Conrad, by his own confession, was. 
wa 'ng there. He was the only man who had "

a distinct motive for killing Knight. The in-
ference is plain.” ‘ 5‘, q '

“ Clear as day. Shall you arrest him at once!” 

“ No. I have obtained one clew where w» -
thought none existed. I shall look for others  ,
before seizing, or alarming, him." ‘ < '1

And the astute detective continued his work
without an one an ting what a storm was 3 .,
brewing. ut new c ews did not seem toappear ; - ._
and after supper he announced to Pray that theyv ‘ ;
would call upon Conrad boldly. After reaching 1 ,._
there they would be governed by circumstances, ‘
and unless a very good chance was offered noth-
ing must be done to alarm him - 5

They went to the house accordingly. 

A light was burning in the livmg room, and " .
Boyne a plied his knuckles to the .door. Silean ’»
follow the knock, and there seemed to be an  ~
unaccountable dela about opening the door, as. ,
Boyne concluded w en' he rapped for thethird “ 1.

time. . v

Just at that moment Pray, who stood some- .

hat back of his leader, exclaimed in a low; .A

once: i
d “ nmebody has just left the house by the near 1':
car. .i

. “ That so?” .i .

H Ya.” . _,
hagganConradhave seen us and taken to hilt

g7 ' . i H“

“ Somebody is making unusually good firm. fie;
He sknrries away in the darkness like a fright- - ‘
ened rabbit. If it ain’t Conrad, we have stum- “
bled upon another mystery, and it is—”

“ Huh! I hear footsteps."

In a moment more the door was oprned, and, 3:
Edwina stood before them. Boyne’s sharp ejet  "’
discovered at first glance that she was agitated’,  “if
and as she saw them an expression swept to her» .
face which was plainly one of alarm. He fell: 7
triumphant already: unlem she had a guns, Ice ‘
cret, he argued, she would not be frigh by
such a visit. '

But he bowed and smiled in his blandest man-

r .
“ Good-evening, madam. Is Mr. Conrad in". 
“I—I think not. He may be in his room}?

faltered Edwina, trying invain to controth

voice.
“Will on kindly see! If he is, we would
to talk th him for a few moments.” ,

 

 

   
 

 

tlcsnake, lmt there

He had stopped coolly over the threshold as he
spoke. and she coul do no mo than to give
him and Pray seats. Then she nt upstairs hi.
search of Evan. *-

 

-‘

._‘ toavoi

 

, ‘ arrest him, and then——

r.
. I’l’i,‘ f
e47

“ The possibility of a

22 ' I

‘ Old Baldy.

V

1'“ l ‘,

 

Boyne favored Pray with a wink, and then
they waited decorously. She soon returned and
announced that her husband was not in.

“That’s bad. Have you any idea when he
will return?”

“No, sir.”

“We wanted to see him about the Shaffer
Kni rht murder.”

Edwfna’s heart sunk. Had Brian Markoe

,kept his threat and told the lie that would be
likely to ruin Evan? She feared it was so, and
knew that she must look stran ely pale and
frightened. But she could not he p it. All her
powers of self-Control seemed to have been lost,
and she could only falter one word:

“ Indeed!”

“ Yes. Very sad affair, Mrs. Conrad.”

“ Yes, sir.”

“ We expect to have the murderer under ar-
'rest soon.”

“I hope you will!”

She meant what she said in one sense. She
'would not believe Evan guilty, and it occurred
to her that if the real assassin was found, her
husband would then be in no further danger.
Her very lack of control made the words harder
than might have been ex ~cted, more automatic;
'but Boyne misconstru the inflection.

“ She is recovering her courage,” he thought.

' r "“ No use of talking further to her.’

Then he added, aloud:

“ We have found Mr. Conrad of great use to
'us in our investigation, for he has a clear head.
He and the other leading men of the lace have
showed proper irit in the affair. ell, as it’s
uncertain when e will return, we will not wait

i - for him. Please ask him to step over to the
hotel in the morning.”

And then they left the house. As soon as the
door was closed behind them, B0 6 quietly
'took his companion’s arm and led im around
to the rear. He wished to see if there was any

_ trace of the man who had so hurriedly left upon
their arrival. They soon made a discovery.

There was no door at the point where he had

V 'emer ed; nothing buta window. The inference

'was p ain; it was b means of this that he had
made his exit. P ainly, the had run 11
home In stery. The man ha been so anxious
bein seen by them, that he had taken
this way of 'eparture, which no one would do
in an ordinary case.

“ It must have been Conrad,” said Pray.

“LOJkB like it.”

“ Furthermore, it shows conclusively that he
knows he is suspected. He ought to be arrested
at once, so that he can’t run away from us.”

yue did not answer, but walked on in a
thoughtful mood, t ing to decide what to do.
. At that moment lwina was cowering in a
«hair like a frightened fawn. .
“ He is suspected: I feel sure he is. They will
Oh! what shall I do?—
'wbat shall I do? They will swear his life away,
and I-but I pray that I may die before then!”

 

" ‘ .«V CHAPTER XXIX.

I ., ‘ ran NIGHT wannnmm.
r ’ BRIGADIER BALDY bore up bravely under a

.wei t of sorrow which would have crushed 11
"also: ardy man.
'/ ,‘that‘he had notagromptly made pub
. ” .ticulars of the

At times he deele regretted
c t 0 par-

air at the bridge that eventful
1 night, but it was now too late to think of re-
whaling it, unless he was prepared to stand trial
murder with small hope of escaping the ex-
penalty of law.

 After Boyne had worked the case to such a

' point the theory of accident would not be ac-

 cepted; he must stand or fall on the hope that

the detdctive would fail to make a discover ,
7 and he did not really see how the truth could

r3011 even more 0-

’  cont than he bein caug t in the detectiva’s web

‘I
:r-‘v



5’ 1: else a the town.

. Liy (New Evan Conrad, the ver man

' had never serious y occurred to him. Little did
" he think that the clouds were hovering so dark-
. or whose
" aka he had innocently broug t about all this
trouble. , '
,. After Hugh became sick in the house the last

; chance was gone to tell the truth.

He was seriously ill and in constant dan of

o

_ ' It was always thus. Where the tender-hearted
 [old veteran gave one thought to himself he gave
two «mothers, and he had great pity for the
_'minor troubles he found by the way, even
; thou h be carried a heavier oad than any one

goat, and the Old Brigadier would not esert

,’ Hugh was not doin so well as was to be
hoped, and the Brigad er began to fear that he

‘ “would yet have a run of fever. His condition,

‘\'- ‘in this respect, was alarming. Besides the deli-
, :oacies furnished by Edwina, the Brigadier was
‘ administering such medicines as he knew of and
3 could obtain, but the result was not favorable.

The patient had too much to worry him. He

‘ fl‘thought most about his wife and child, of whom

, he had as yet given no definite account; but the
presence of Edwards, alias Boyne. in the town
was a constant source of excitement, and at
times he insisted that the detective was on the

v

 

These light-headed ieriods added to tho Briga-
dier’s worriment, andI
him alone lest he should do something rash.

In fact, all was worry with the poor old Brig-
adier. Besides car ing his own load he had to
comfort and cheer ugh, and all Buck Basin
looked to him for aid and encouragement. He
was their leader, their bulwark and they came
to him with every trivial troub e.

On the same night that Boyne and Pray visit-
ed Evan Conrad’s house the Brigadier, utterly
wearied out, went to sleep beside his son. He
sle )t heavily, and for some hours.

hen he awoke it was with a start, and a
feeling that he had somehow neglected his

dut . .

H); listened for sounds from Hugh, but heard
none. He put out a hand to touch him. Hugh
was not in the bed.

The Brigadier called his name but there was
no answer. Then alarm seized the veteran, and
he hurriedly arose and struck a light. As it
flared up a startling fact was revealed.

Hugh was not in the room!

The Bri adier’s heart sunk. What he had
feared ant tried to guard against had come;
Hugh had arisen in a period 0 mental irrespon-
sibilit and left secretly. But there was one
hope eft. He might not have gone from the
house.

Quickly the veteran ran down, but this hope
was dashed to pieces. There was no sign of t e
younger man, and the fact that the outer door
was unfastened showed plainly that he had
gone.

The Brigadier was almost in despair, and all
kinds of dire calamities arose before his mind,
not the least of which was that Bernard Boyne
might be abroad and discover him. Or his un-
fortunate son might wander away in the Pyra-
mids or upon the prairie and perish.

His resolution was soon taken. He would
follow, and if such a thin was possible, Hugh
should be brought back. he ran 11 airs,
hurried] dressed, and went out into t 6 night
to searc an where—everywhere—he knew not
where—for he helpless wanderer.

In the meanwhile Bernard Boyne had gone to
bed. and after lying awake for some time to
consider the question of whether he should
arrest Evan Conrad at once he fell asleep. For
some length of time—he did not know just how
lon —he slept as usual, but finally awoke witha
fee mg that the fact was due to unusual causes.

Ha he been awakened by a dream? If so, he
did not remember it, and the perfect quiet
which rei ed in the room seemed a guarantee
that nothing else had been responsible for it.

Carelesst he turned over, and was thus
brought facin a window. The night was fairly
clear, and the ight which entered made half of
the room bright and cheerful for the hour. But
it was not this which attracted Boyne’s atten-

tion. There was somethin more, and something

so vastly more important t he became at once
excited.

Between him and the window stood a man—
or was it it sometling else? It had the form of
one, but the pale face. the gaze fixed on va-
cancy, and the statue-like immovability of the
11 re rendered the picture stran and weird.

0 9 ga like one fascina A man was
in his room, but who was it and what was

wanted? Neither a burglar nor one intending-

personal violence was likely to pose as a statue
and let valuable time go to waste.

But as the detective gazed a swift, startled
look came to his face. There was somethiu
familiar in that other face, and it frighten
Bernard Boyne. Had his lips framed the thought
which was in his mind it would have been in is

form:

“It is Hugh Benmarsh or his ghost!”

And the perspiraticn started out on his fore-
head, showmg ow badly he was terrified. But
the still form by the window did not move.
Gazing neither at the man on the bed nor out of
the window, but at the blank wall, it stood there
and never moved a muscle so far as Boyne could
see—did not even seem to breathe.

The so was too much for the detective,
and the very force of his fright, it may be giro
duced a revulsion of foelin which carried m
to the oppoa'to extreme. t certainly was not
courage which moved him, but he suddenly
sprung from the bed and darted toward the

gure. .

Then the latter stirrtl. Wheeling, he almost
collided with Boyne, face to face; and then the
detective’s arms were thrown around him.
tr’Bioyno hind bno distinct  ofd mt be was

ngto o, uthegrap an anamo-
ehanical, yet desperate Effort to throw the in-
truder to the flmr. The latter met him point
for int. and a sin ular struggle begun.

e detective hat always been (-onsida'ed a
strong man, but all his efforts seemed to be
thrown away now. In vain he tried tothrow
his adversary by a wrestler’s trick, or to beat
him down with brute strength. The intruder
resisted every lock. and his strength seemed
something wonderful. -

acted. only on the defensive, but did this
wit skill and ease.

Not a word camped either man’s lips. but
there in the dark room they battled in a Silence

he almost feared to leave,

 

which seemed almost ghostly. until Boyne began
to wonder if he was not actually dreaming.

But the end was at band.

His opponent suddenly aroused, and with an
exhibition of strength which amazed and star-
tled the detective, lifted him clear of the floor
and hurled him upon the bed. But Boyne did
not stop there. H ith such impetus did he go,
he bounded 011‘ and fell half-stunned in the cor-
ner of the room.

How long he remained there he did not know:
his mind was in confusion, and he had only a
dim idea that if his terrible adversary would let
him alone he would agree to such an arran e-
ment; but his head gradually cleared and file
be ran to feel more active interest.

othing was to be heard to indicate that any
one else was in the room, so he cautiously rose
to his knees and looked around. His late advi-r-
sary was not visible. It seemed too much to
ho that he had left the room, and Bo '11s was
sti 1 hesitating when a ra sounded at t e door.

This did not indicate t at an enemy was in
motion, and the detective sprung up and hasten-
ed to ansWer the summons. I any one upon
whom he could rely was there he wanted his

help.

It proved to be the proprietor of the hotel,
lamgén hand.

“ g your pardon Mr. Boyne, but is any-

thing wrong here? I’ have just discovered and
driven out a burglar, but he got away without
an examination and I’m afraid he has robbed
somebody.”

“ How do you know he was a burglar?” curtly
asked the detective.

“ I recognized him. It was Brown Bob, a no-
torious character we drove out of town a year
ago. Hang the fellow! he showed a good deal
of cheek to come here, and if the boys were to
get hold of him they would make matters warm

or him.”

“ So you’re sure ’twas Brown Bob?”

H Yes. 91

“ Well, who is Brown Bob, anyhow?”

“ A Hungarian.”

“ Humph!”

Boyne be an to breathe freer, for the land-
lord seemed onfldent of what he said, but could
potgiirget the facththgglhe 23d seen the “ burg-

ar imse an , e iev , a face
that he had no desire to see. W

He confessed that he had had a stru gle with
the intruder andhad been worsted, an then sug-
ghostcd that they go out in search of him. But
t e landlord said this was useless. He had recog-
nized Brown Bob and called his name, and the
fellow was sure to get out of Buck Basin in the
shortest 'ble time.

After is experience with the men of the vil-
lage he would not tarry to meet them again, now
that his presence was known.

Boyne was not sorry to yield the point. He
had no great desire to go out and search for he
was very much afraid that he might find the
man, and that he would prove to be another
than Brown Bob.

He kept the landlord some time and led the
conversation around to minor matters, then
finally; spoke of Brigadier Baldy. Without giv-
in companion opportunity to suspect an -
t ng, he made inquiries as to the Brigadiers
family. Had he no children of his own?

The landlord lied in the negative. Ben-
marsh had never ad but one child, and that
one, a son he had lost years before. And then
Bo netoo fresh courage. If Hugh was alive
an near Buck Basin, the fact would probably
be known. He had been nervous ever since he
leaned that he was in the same town with the
elder Benmarsh, andhis imagination had done
the rest.

At least, he hoped such was the fact. .

But if he had gone out he might have made a

discove that would have brought back all his
fears. Old Brigadier was leading Hugh
thro h the street to their home. He had some

upon 5 son much sooner than he hoped after
leaving the house, and was taking him back.

Hugh plainly showed that he was not right
mentally but was so docile that there was no
trouble about handling him.

The Brigadier was still greatly touched, how-
ever, and when he asked where the wanderer
had been. the latter startled him still more by
acknowledging that be believed he had been in
a house somewhere and had a fightr-ho did not
know where.

Heavy, indeed, was the heart of the veteran,
but he never (1 ' when waking for others.
Their troubles had a claim upon him which noth-
ing could take away. and he prayed for strength
to meet any new danger which might arise from
this unfortunate affair. ‘

And so they went on to the house, little' sus-
plecting the experience which awa'fied than
t lore.

 

l
’.

CHAPTER XXX.

‘ TIE Roam-m GROWS HEAVIEB.

THE men hadalmOst reached their destination
when they observed a female figure approach-
ing frOm the opposite direction. The Brigadie
suddenly paused. He was both surprised an
troubled. He could not imagine who was abroad

at that hour, atlas when no one was wily ‘

 

l
l
l

,y.

““"‘”“ ‘. . ""“‘—‘“"' ""~——

~15 _-n. ..

 

 

 

 

.~ ...._

“NW.

ryw

 

.m. .. ,,
"M— 1“

 

’I say. that I can only to
H

child, you are very, very

_ 4. alga, -,(.

 Baldy.

23

 

 

astir in Buck Basin; and it occurred to him that
it would not do to have Hugh seen.

He drew the young man back to the darker
shadows of a house and waited for her to pasi.
diligll rallied under this new complication, and
t MK an interest in the matter which pleased his
father. It indicated mental improvement.

But the woman did not ass. Instead, she
paused directly before the Brigadier’s house and
began to examine it attentive] '. He looked on
in wonder. Who was she, an what did her ac-
tions mean?

After a pause she advanced to the door and
rm her hand along as though in Search of a
bell-knob. There was none there, but the possi-
bilit y that she would knock and awaken Mrs.
Benmarsh at such a critical moment startled the
Bri adier anew. .

“ ugh,” he said, hurriedly, “ I think I ought
to know who that is;”

“Do so, by all means,” coherently answered
Hu h.

“ Will you remain here until I come for you?”

L6 Yes.$.

“ And be careful not to show yourself?”

“ Yes, yes: certainly. But go to her at once,
or she will alarm the whole household."

It seemed a great risk to leave him alone, for
his mental aberration might return, but there
was no other way. The Brigadier hastened to—
ward the woman. She heard him coming, and
paused with her hand raised as though to knock.

Dark though it was the Brigadier saw at once
that she was a stranger and his wonder in—
creased. He determined to have an understand-

in .

g‘ Good-evening, madam.” . .

“ Good—evening, sir,” replied a low,_ timid
'voice. “ I beg your pardon, sir, but Will you
tell me who lives here?’

“ His name is Adam Benmarsh.”

“ Do on know if he is at home?”

" He is not, but if your business is important
— rhaps he may be found.”

‘It is important, sir.”

“May I ask what it is?”

“ Excuse me, sir, but you have been so kind
thus far that I am sure lyou will not be angry if

him.”
hen you may tell as soon as ou wish, for
I am Adam Benmarsh ” he repli . “But on
-—I never saw you. What! have you a c ild
with you?” .

For the first time he noticed that she was not
alone. Beyond her was a small fl re, and a
small face was peering timidly past er. A sud-
den suspicion flashed upon the veteran.

“ Girl!” he exclaimed, “ who are you who
seeks admittance to Adam Benmarsh’s house?”

“ Prove to me that you are he and I will tell
you,” she replied, with a caution born, iperhaps,
of past experience.

“ The best proof lies in the fact that I am at
my own door and know it to be unlocked.

See?”
1 He opened the door a trifle and then reclosed
' t

"‘I can doubt no longer,” the oung woman
said, in an 'tated voice. “I fe t sure before

:10? the decor ption was very correct and I need
hesitate no longer.

Mr. Benmarsh, I am Hugh’s
.m e In
‘Iknewitl Ifeltsure it was so. Now ma
the Lord be praised for Home; My den);
w i”

The great tendernes‘ which was in the
veteran’s heart was not to be denied, and be
folded the little woman in bloat-ms. sue breath
ed a s' h of relief and  therewmingly.
She he often heard of this great heart from
Hugh. and knew that as far as his power went,
the Old Brigadier was a rock which would stem
the tide of trouble bravely. . _

But another thought was in his mind. He re.
leased her, bent and lifted the golden-haired

‘ child.

“ His b0 8" said the old man, in a tremulous
voice. “ y Hug '3 son! Thank heaven, I see
the child at last!’

“ You are very kind,” faltered the young
'wife,” but, oh! Mr. Benmarsh, Hugh ismissmg.
He has gone—I don’t know where.’

“ Be cheered, sad heart, he is nearer you than
‘you think,” was the quick reply.

" Near me? Oh! fath ‘1' Adam, you don’t

'mean that he is here ?”

“_ I mean just that m dear, and if you will
wait a moment I wil ca him.”

“ There is no need ” said a hoarse voice beside
them. “ I am here!

A faint cry seed down the woman’s lips.
She turned qu ckly. There stood Hugh Ben-
mM‘Sb, his arms opened to receive her. And in
a moment'more she was folded to his heart.

Happy team rolled down the Old Brigadier’s
fdce,  he caressed the head of the wandering
child With hands that trembled perceptibly.
He was Very happy because of the reunion. but
the cloud ill the way of perfect ha iness was
not lost sight of for a moment.
the best medicine for Hugh would be the pres-
ence of his 10““ 01195. in" matters were becom-
in even more complir-nie‘.

t had seemed diiiicult enough to shelter Hugh
and provide for him secretly, but how would it
be when the number was increased to three?

He ew that i

, Hugh andhis helpless one.

 

Not for a moment could he entertain thoughts

of confiding in his wife, and it seemed impossi-
ble to keep the secret from her.

But when Hugh and his wife had finished
their greetin s the Brigadier saw the vital ne-
Cessity of she tering them at once. Both gave
signs of great uneasiness, and he knew that
Hu h, at least, must have rest.

is late mental aberration seemed entirely
gone, but there would be a dangerous relapse if
he was kept longer on his feet. There was but
one way, and he led them all quietlyto his room.
Once there Hugh was forced to lie down, which
he did with his boy beside him. and his wife and
the Brigadier sittin at the bedside.

The latter’s quic eyes soon perceived that
Eulalie, as Hugh called her was but little
stron er than himself, and when she acknow-
led that she had walked all the way from
On tree, this did not seem strange.

There was an explanation which the Brigadier
did not fully understand, but from which he
gathered the fact that they had been together
in some building which was burned: that they
barely escaped alive: and had then become
separated in the crowd which gathered to see
the fire.

A ladder carelessl handled b the firemen
had struck and near y stunned ulalie, and in
this condition she and her child had been taken
away to a hospital. The blow and a nervous re-
lapse after the fright had kept her there some
time, and as she and Hugh had before been in
hiding, she dared not give her real name.

As a result she lost all trace of Hugh, even as
he had done of her, and when she could leave
the hospital she saw but one way—to go to
Brigadier Bald ’3 house, hoping that her hus-
band would fln her there.

They were united at last, but under circum-
stances anything but favorable. He certainly
could not get away from Buck Basin for some
time, and as oflicers of the law were searching
for him, he could not live there openly. .

Clearly, he must remain in hiding, but the
means of doi so were r, indeed. There
was no refuge or him but is father’s roof, and
that was but a poor refuge under the circum-
stances.

It seemed imggmible for the three to remain
there and not discovered by the Brigadier’s

wife.

The veteran’- sibilities were increasin ,
and he felt that he a load which, uphold It
as bravely as he mi ht, was like] to prove
more than he bear. Edw na Conrad
would undoubtedly furnish food for the trio as
willingly as she had done for one, but he had
been nearly discovered by Boyne and Pray, and
had only escaped by going out through a win-
(1

ow.

Perhaps they had recognized him, however.

Then, as Hugh reflected, he stated that he be-
lieved he hmone to Boyne’s room in his flighty
period and a fight with that man. If so, it
was v likely that he had been recognized.

Troub e seemed threatening on all sides, and
the veteran found but one source of consolation.

He believed that Bernard Boyne hadfound no
evidence in the Shaffer Kni ht case and hoped
that he would soon give i up and leave the
place. Then one danger would certainly be re-
movod.

The Brigadier finally prevailed upon his
“ children as he call them, to lie down. and
then left the room wi the excuse of seeking
another room. Real] , he dared not use another
r00m, as his vixen 0 would at once he su i-
cious, and he merely spread a blanket upon t e
floor in the upper hall and ‘lay down there near
Hu h’s door as a guardian. .

oublod as he was wearmeSS soon overcame
him, and he 31 t gleefully and well for some
hours. When ally awoke, it was because
of a dream.

He thought that he had been away for some
dayfl, and when he returned an execution was
about to take place in the villafl, and in the
doomed man he recogmzed one of s neighbors.

He had asked what crime had been commit-
ted, and a man replied;

,“ T1197, say he is a. murderer. We who know
him, claim that he is innocent, but Bernard
Boyne has outwardly proven him the slayer of
181233? Knight, and the poor wretch must

ng.

Bri adier Bald awoke in a fright, and great
was hfis relief to ad it only a dream.

“But what if such a thin should really oc-
cur?” he thought. “ Whati the should accuse
an innocent maul There woul than be but
one thing for me todo; I should have to sur-
render mVSelf— But, no' I could not leave
Tet-yah- Ahl there
would be no other way. Nb innocent person
should suffer. In such a crisisil should prompt
1y tel my story and give myle f up!”

 

At that moment, Boyne was arousing Pray at
the hotel.

“ ( tome,” he said. “ there is work fcr us to do.”

“What work?” Pray asked. .

“ I have been thinking about our late discov-

eries, and though the evideneeis far from eon- ‘

elusive, I am so afraid Conrad will run away,
that we will arrest him at once!”

 

4

CHAPTER XXXI.

THE CBUSADE OF THE PYRAMIDS.

WITH the aid of his allies Hendrickson jeal-
ously pursued his search for Floralice. Game
Chicken was not much less anxious, while the
old trailer they called to their aid was anxious
to establish his reputation, if nothing more.

He began at t e Gypsy shanty and pursued
his work persistently at first. He found plea
of foot-prints outside, or claimed to-do so, whic
were not visible to the other men, and then he
led them on several trails which ultimately end-
ed in nothing.

According to his assertion. the Lees must have
done a good deal of traveling during their last

day at the shanty, for there were any quantity ' ’ J,

of trails. These, however, all finally led back to
the shanty.

For a whole day he kept them on the move,
and it seemed to Hendrickson that about every 4
foot of the first half of the Pyramids had been "
gone over. But nothing had been seen and
nothing learned.

Nightfall found them once more back at the
cabin, and then the guide leaned upon his rifle :
in an attitude supposed to be the pro r one v
for a great trailer, and delivered a earned
opinion.

“One thing is sart’in; them dusk cha are r».-

about ez sharp e2 they make ’em. t’s 0 ’ar oz
mud that all them trails we hev been follerin‘

was made on purpose ter fool us, an’ it shows ‘ 

ree-markable sha new on their part. Finder— .
more, ther actooellp trail—that made when the if
lit out in ’arnest—was kivered up in a sty . ‘
quite amazin’. Them fellers would hev do-W '
hghted Kit Carson in ther days when himand '
me was together, they‘re so amazin’ sharp.”

And the trailer nearly beat down a tree with
a torrent of tobacco-juice ejected from his
mouth.

Hendrickson was dis

faith in the trailer. be repeated failures of .

He had lost .11 .  1

the day, the man’s persistent assertions that he -  .

was on the track and his loquacit , had como‘ 
bined to destroy what faith his emp oyer before '
felt. He now suspected that the ' was ut- '
terly inoompfignt, and that near y all his 80-. 1f
called trails been imaginary ones. -,
He went back to his hotel in anythin but 3;
ha py frame of mind, and he and Game 
endeavored to drown their wees and calm their 
perturbed spirits in a cloud of tobacco-smoke. .
They were agreed upon one point—tho sooner-f.
they ispemed with the vetemn trailer the bet- "7
tor it would be for them. A haphazard
of the Pyramids was better than to spend valu~ A
able time over uncles or imaginary trails. ‘ 2 ‘ ,
They were discussing the matter when the - .“Il.
landlord informed them that Nick Nellie. a vilé .. ‘

 

 

did “Est hesitate to order that the boy bead-
mi . ' ' .

He soon entered—a lad of about thirteen
years, with a bod so slender and lithe as to ro- '«
mind one of a an 9, but than h his face seamed; is
unnaturally thin. he had a con, wide-awake";s
look, and was known as a shrewd, 

‘ Well, Nick ” said Hendrickson, abruptly, .
“whatris it? I hear you have important usi-
ness. ‘

The boy gave his head a quick, short jerk. ;

“ You’ve heerd right, on tain.” 

“ What is your business ‘ g.‘ \ .

“ You’re ther chap what’s lookin’ fur Ki-
Heath?” . -\ .

Lt Yw'” .

“Sort o’ a guardeen fur her?” \.

“ Never mind that. I am looking for her.” ' »

“Suqu a chap 0‘ about my circumf’tm'm.
should able tor give ye p’inters—is that hole
lion Iiélter it?” dun  ~‘ '

“ you can give me news, you 
in r?wtion to its importance.” I ..
d  calmly took a seat and crossed birth-

er egs. A ' i

“That means big pay I reckon W
that you think them Lee h’alf-bloodl in in nu;

« do think .5.»
“ Andyyou wanter flnd 'eml"
ti  v
“Captain, I seen them terday?’ -,~
I‘rday’smms'”. ' x ~
‘ n r m s. . ' .« 
“ By Jovel this is ominous Whmmdwlnnf,
Go on, boy. and tell your story. and you» 
be well paid. I have been hunting for'thun. in . ,
the Pyramids myself, but without avail. Haw "
git: ygfiu happen to see them, and what were they.
0 .
“ on rayther dagger me with ther multitude
o’ yer in but reckon I kin answer!
ther card. wmIamamano’wa fin.
instincts, an" their close air 0’ this walled. city
sorter stiflea me. Result, I frequentlyg I ‘
ther hills whar all is free, an’ I kin expand
broad chest like a bellus. ' - i
" I was that tar-day, clear inter flier 
part 0' ther Pyramids, an‘ felt like a colt in;
clover. Mv hopes soon went down term .
was a—thinkin’ that I was fardrom ther

 

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search ‘: V's” ‘

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din’ crowd, an’ all alone with Natur’, when I
I! a heerd human v’ices.

“Now, a v’ice indercates a human bein’, an’ I
looked fur ther person. I soon see’d him; two
on ‘him, except that one was a woman.”

 i “ Who were they?” Hendrickson interrupted.
: y “ Nat Lee and Leah.” .
(i Ha!”

' “Sure ez you live. Whar they come from I
ll“. don’t know, but they sorter seemed ter spring
*' ' up from ther solid ground, as ’twere. First
T ’ thing I knowed they was near me. Seems they
., come from (liif'rcnt dircctions, fur Nat planted
 ‘ hisself in front 0’ ther gul, an’ sez he, sorter tart
;,  an’ surly.

" ,3 “ ‘You’re jest ther person I wanted tcr see.’

'~ ' “ ‘ Wal. you seen me half an ‘our ago,’ sez she.

“ ‘ I mean that I want a perivate talk with
ye,’ scz he.

“ ‘ Procecd,’ she says, curtly.

“ ‘Girl. I am dissatisfied,’ sez Nat, with a
scowl. ‘ W'hat sort 0’ a dance be you leadin’
us? Did your bargain with us call fur any sech
work 02 this? Did I not specially say thar
fihould be no crooked biz hingin’ on vo lence?”

“ ‘ \Val, thar hasn‘t be’n none,’ sez s e.

. - . “ ‘ Is woma'n-stealin’ a light matter ?’
'  ‘gx “ ‘Be you ai'ecrd?’ asked she, with a sneer.
‘ “ ‘Girl, whoever sa 3 Nat Lee is afeerd, lies,
but I am too old a ird ter want ter run m
head inter a noese or my bod inter jail. 1’]
fight ther best man in Kansas airly, or do any
sensible crooked work, but this last trick is sure
for get ther whole on us inter a scrape.’
“ ‘ Nonsense !’ says she, tossin‘ her head.
“ ‘You’re ez headstron ez most women be,’
i , sez he, ‘an’ vou would m e a boss right ter de-
struction. But I won’t hang on fur th'er leap.
Not much 1’
“ ‘What do you perpose for do?’
“ ‘ Either ther prisoner or I leaves hyar.’
“ ‘ You kin go ez soon ez you please.
“ ‘ No doubt you would be glad, but I want
~you tor know t at though ther old woman is
1. your devoted slave, I ain’t, an’ I‘m not ter be
ground under foot. I reckon you may hev heerd
' 0’ ther Lee grit. You’ve got a good share on’t,
' but what 0’ me? When my blood is up I rule or
‘ ruin. Take warnin’. Our blood tie ain’t so
 thick or strong that I kin be led by ther nose.
\You want for go mighty slow, or that will be a
r. * breez: :round hyar an’ you will get blowed ter
 ,’ limos .

\

 

  
   
   
  
   
  
   
   
   
  
  
  
   
  
  
   
   
   
 
   
    
  
    
 
   
 
   
     
     
    
    
   

 

 

 

 

 

  
   
 
    
   
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
  
  
    
  
   
   
  
   
  
  
   
      

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1* i” .l

  

  
   
    
 
 
 

, f “ Nat was in dead earnest, an’ Leah she seen
it; an’ she come do ’03 her high boss quick.
, film was plainl af rd 0’ him, or, rather, that
‘ he’d do mischie ; an she took a new tack. She
began ter talk in a new vein an’ be ez polite ez
you p'lefise, an’ ther way she soft-soaped him was

am .

. “But Nat was no slouch, an’ he didn’t yield

fur a cent. He tole her bluntly that somethin’

new must be done ter git them out o’ the n le,
an’ that he’d ha to till it was settled, bu t iat
he’d be shot ef hed let ther mill run an’ grind
, him fur a grist.” ' .
'v : “Well, what next?” demanded Hendrickson.
1‘ They went off in sections. First, Leah va-
‘- mosed, an’ purty soon Nat follered suit. I tried
tor foller him, but ther place was a re ’lar 'un-
.13 ’ bushes an’ rocks, an’ I got 0 can sit.
‘giissgd him complete.”
.' “ And saw no more of him?"
“ Na .
’ “ Nor of the others i”
_ u/Nary see.” ’
W “ Well it’s plain that on have made a dis-
"coveryo importance. on’t ou think so, Ben?”
“‘ Looks like it.” Game hicken answered.
' ‘5 Thar den 0’ ther Lees must be nigh whar Nick
"‘m‘z‘niixsathemi” w 11 I hell I h 11 pt]

, . e, ,eve sapromy
’5 drop our sg-called trailer, take Nick instead and
, begin an energetic search. Rough? and tangled

as the ramid country is, I lieve careful
,r search w' reveal their lair.”

* “ An’ thar’s one thing in our favor.”
“ “mat?” .
l. “ Thor’s a household wrangle. Nat Lee is

’in‘the dumps, an’ may yet kick up a big row.”

. ‘5, And. be a factor in ‘our crusade. True!

Well, the crusade goes on, hnyhow.”

'. gNick was then made happy byebeing en aged
‘ to guide them to the place w re he ha seen
1 :Leah and Nat, and it was arranged that they
r should be awa before da had an] dawned

{the nest: mlh‘nni .16 In 0 er to do 

little r as pass 1: was arranged t

Hendrickton and the bay should Bass the night

under the same roof where Game hickcn made

\his quarters.

' This was done, and Hendrican thus remain-
ed ignorant of the night alarm at the hotel
 caused by Hugh Benmarsh’s intrusion, as well
.1.“ of the events which followed during the day.
- r By the time the sun arese thev were well ad-
va amo the hills, and Nick led the way

, ea ly tows their destination.
_ they arrived, there was no sign of life.

,«The lace was extremely wild, but the quiet

numb? never have been broken before by man so

far as signs went to show. Nick. however, soon

‘ ~ f developed inactive signs. He found the place

when. he claimed, Nat Lee had im tientg
’idug his heel into the earth while he ta] ed wi

   

 

01d Baler

Then began the search for c. cave or cabin.

For a lace of the size the Pyramids certainly
deserve hi h rank for confusion and wildness.
The whole p ace seemed to have been turned up-
side down, and as rocks, bushes and Vines were
there in profusion, it was slow, uncertain work.

The searchers were in earnest, and they soon
discovered all kinds of strange places.
appearance of Nat Lee was exp ained by finding
a tunnel formed by vines, and there were many
more like it. The men and Nick almost lost
themselves in the hunt.

Noon found them no further advanced than
they had been in the morning, and when they
sat down to eat their cold dinner only Nick was
in gobd spirits. He, however, could not be dis-
couraged by anvthing.

He was the first to finish eating, and imme-
diatel y went away to resume the search. Hen-
drickson and Game Chicken continued eating,
and at the same time discussed all the points of
the case.

The were thus occupied when something
caused) both to suddenl leap to their feet.

A shrill cry had Sill denlv sounded some rods
distant—a cry plainly in fick’s voice, and so
ener etic and excited as to startle them.

“ as ther youngster struck a lead?” Game
Chicken demanded.

“ It certainly seems—"

Hendrickson did not finish the sentence. The
cries suddenly broke out afresh, and it was plain
that Nick was in some sort of a critical situation.
They even believed that they could distinguish
the word “ Help 1” among the rest.

Without another sentence both dashed away,
making for the
the nature of t 1e ground would admit, and
spurred on by the boy‘s cries. To Hendricka
it seemed an almost interminable time before
they reached him, but, fluall bruised and
breathless, they reached the en of a miniature
tunnel and saw Nick.

They saw something else.

The place was open at but one end, and in this
trap was a woman whom Nick, by means of

rodigious efforts, was keeping from passing

1m.

The woman was Leah Lee. .

Evidently she and Nick had bad a personal en-
counter. for both were flushed and breathless,
but as the dusky-faced girl saw Hendrickson, she
recoiled with a look of dismay on her face.

He coolly advanced beyond the 

“ So we meet again,” he said, cold y.

Leah did not answer. She was looking per~
sistently at the ground by this time, and dismay
seemed struggling with sullen anger.

“ Course you meet i” cried the irre ressible
Nick. “ She an’ me met, too. Migh y warm
meetin’. ’Most got my e ebrows bruised off.”

“You have done nob y, my boy, and I will
not forget it,” said Hendrickson.

h’s gaze was suddenly raised.

“Nor Ii” she hiSsed. “ I’d like to break his
neck. You little viper! I will repay you for
this. I never forget those who make war upon
me, and when any one does this it is at his
peril.”

 

CHAPTER XXXII.

LEAH.

Hasnmcxsox understood that this was a shot
at him, but be neither had fear of Leah nor pro-
posed to abate one jot of his crusade against

er.

“You seem to have removed from your
home,” he said, uietlg.
“Only for a aw ays,” replied Leah, hesi—
tatin 1y. '
“ Ugntil after dis sing of 'our prisoner.”
The Gypsy girl c anged co or.
I: My prisoner?”

“ What do you mean i”

“ Pray don t waste time in professions of igno-
rance., You have caused Floralice Heath to be
stolen and now hold her risoner—”

“ E gar!” exclaimed ah, simulating sur-

rise and reproach. “ What do you mean?

h do you wronglme so cruelly?”

our own lips ave confessed it.”

“ Who dares say so?” ,

“Never mind: enough that I can prove it.
Yesterday you and Not Lee stood not far from
here, and he declared that he was angry with
your course, and that by abducti Miss Heath,
you had invited rain to yourself, im, and the
rest of your tribe. You denied nothing then.
Deny nothing new for it will be useless, but
save yourself trouble by at once producing
Floraiice Heath.” '

“ I know nothing about her.”

“Nonsense!”

“I have not seen her for three days, nor do I
want to. I can’t claim to be a person in high
life, but I have some regard for honor, and
don’t care to associate with such as Floralice
Heath."

Nick whistled softly, as though to call atten-
tion to so remarkable an assertion, but Hen-
drickson, stern and frowning, took the Gypsy

r ’3 arm.
“Ohli me by stepping back where we can .

talk alo ,” he tersely said.

The dis- 1

uarter of excitement as fast as ;

l ' She obeyed with the docility of a child, but,
as he released his hold, suddenly said:

“Are you afraid that contact with me will
contaminate you?”

“ I do not understand.”

“ You let go of my arm quickly. Am I so
g repulsive to you? Your touch is magnetic to
me. I wish—that you loved me or that I Were
dead!"

The words burst from her fiercely, but her
full red lips quivered, and it was plain that she
was deeply moved.

“ Do you deserve it?” he coldly asked.

“ I have tried to. I loved you from the time
I first saw you, but you turned den fly away.
My heart has yearned for your love, but has it
been fed with new life?”

“ I prefer not to discuss this. Let me ask in
a word what you did when you found me unre—
sponsivc.”

“ I waited and hoped that you would change.”

“ And abducted h loralice Heath.”

“ You wrong me! You wrong me! I swear it..
“'hy will you persist when every word is a stab
at. al heart that loves you?” Leah passionately
; crie< .

“ I persist because I am here with a fixed pur-
3 pose, and will not be turned from it. Deny it
as you will, Floralice has been stolen and is now
held prisoner by you and your tribe. Why is
your shanty at the base of the Pyramids now
' deserted? Simply because, after the abduction,
‘ you and your amiable relatives fled here. Nat
' does not approve of the affair; he is afraid
trouble wil result from it; but, all the same,
you hold the prisoner. I am here to rescue her.
‘ow, will you 've her up?”
“I know not ing about her.

 

She is not here,

and—”

“Rubbish! Do not t to make me believe
that you are weak-mind as well as unscrupu-
ions.”

The girl stood looking at the ground in sullen
silence, grinding one heel in? o the "soil.

Hendrickson watched her narrowlv, studying
her as he would a riddle on paper. ut she was
not so hard to read. She was guilty, deny it as
she would; and worse than that, so resolute that
it seemed impossible to make her yield.

“ Well?” he said, after a pause.

“ What?”

It was a short, ungracious, unpromising reply.

“ Have you decided to speak?”

“ I have spoken.

“ Falsely! What I want is the truth and to
liave you conduct me to Miss Heath. W'ill you
i 0 it? "

“I have no idea where she is, and I don’t
want to know. Necessarily, I must decline.”

“ Lead me to where you are now stopping,
then.”

A look of annoyance crossed Leah’s face.

“ Dame Hagar and m brothers are angry
with the people of Buck asin, and they wpuld
not allow it.”

“ Why angry?”

“ Never mind.”

“ Let this folly cease.
fully weak: let us have no more of them. You
will either conduct me to your quarters or re—
main my prisoner.”

“ I wi gladly remain your prisoner,” she an-
swered, and there could be no doubt of her sin--
cerity. “ If I could be near you, I would glad-
ly go to a felon’s cell for life.’

‘ But you can’t be near me,” Hendrickson rc-
lied, with a curtness born of des air. “ While
am searching for Floralice, wit good chances

of finding her, you will be a prisoner in close,
confinement.”

“ You are cruel as the grave!” she said, her
voice trembling with mixed sorrow and anger.”

“ I am just.”

With this brief answer Hendrickson turned
away and joined Game Chicken and Nick be—
low. There was no fear that Leah would esca
from the wide-sac; the only way was up t 9
low cliffs, and she never looked that way.

Hendrickson had already formed a plan which
he proceeded to explain to the ex—pugilist.
Plainly, the easiest way to learn where the lair
of the Lees was would be to follow Leah there
secretly. But how could this be done? At this

int endrickson’s scheme came in. He he-

ieved that the girl would soon tire of imprison-
ment when le t alone, and seek to escape.
Therefore he proposed to confine her in a cer—
tain little cave they had already found and osp
feasibly leave her secure, but, really, leave some
Weak point by means of which she could escape
if she tried.

Once out she would robably start for the lair,
but he would be on t 9 watch, and where she
went he would follow. If this plan could be
worked her secret would soon be revealed. \\

Game Chicken caught eagerly at the inn and
declared that it was sure to work, whi e he was
delighted at the idea of arrangin the little
schemeso astodeoeive Leiih and lure erintothe
trap. It would be but a short task, he said.

Hendrickson, willin ly gave him charge of it

with Nick as an a at, and, when they had

he away, himself sat down at the cntrnme to

e cul-de-sac. He did not look toward Iuh.

' but, after a pause, she came to his side. Her
‘ .

 

Your evasions are piti—

1'-

 

 

 

V‘NW

 

 
    

  
 
  

 
         

      
 

 

 

 

 
         
 
 
 

    

  

 

 

 

 

1..

.1 ‘

 

V

4‘

 
 

.‘rustle of a leaf. No one was visible.

law.“ r“ I _ ‘

 “Old Baldy.

25

 

 

eyes were filled with tears, and, never seeking to
pass, she began another a

It was an interview which was not without a

inful element, and would have been exceed-
ingl so had he not thought of Floralice and
stee ed his heart.

He would not be blindly outwitted by this
woman.

Her love was not more sincere than her devo-
tion to crime.

It was a relief when Game Chicken returned
and announced that the prison was pre ared,
and then the young man arose and 1100' her
arm. Once more she passively obeyed, and he
led herto the prison. Game Chicken had not
had much to do, but that much was well done.
It looked like a strong place of captivity, but
when Leah became restless and angry, as it was
hoped she would do, she was sure to find the
weak point. . I

“ Are you ready to go in!” Hendrickson
asked.

is Yes‘n

“I hope you don’t mind the darkness of the
prison.”

“ Not if it is your wish that I go in.“

“ It is."

He motioned toward the entrance, and she un-
hesitatingly passed through. Neither food,
drink nor a comfortable resting-place was given
her, but if this was severe it was occasioned by
circumstances. Her captors hoped to see her
yield before night.

The entrance was made secure, and then the
trio turned away.

“ Woman is (Eileer critters,” said the ex-pugi—
list. Ssflcragching '5 head slowly.
H ’08

“ That female would
stone ef you ordered it.

“ She is tending that way, an how.”

“Women is a strange one,’ Game Chicken
added. “ When she loves, she throws her hull
vim inter it, an’ a volcanic eruption ain‘t no-
whar. She’s faithfuller than a canine, which
will foller ye ter yer grave an’ mourn fur ye.
“That’s strikin’, but woman will beat it. Taken
oz 8. rule, she, good or bad, will cling ter you in
health or sickness, prosperity or woe. She will
foller ye through drunkenness, crime, ther
walls 0’ a prison an’ ther regions 0’ Hades, an’
ther more fortune an" yer feller—man kicks ye,
ther more she loves ye. Funny, ain’t it? Past
onderstandin’. Re lar riddle. I can’t read it,
nohow, but 0’ one t ing I am sure—woman is a
brick!”

This verdict passed without comment. and

Jump into a lake 0‘ brim-

theu Hendrickson gave directions for the next 3
3 body. Oh! Nat, I am about heart-broken and

:move.

For his Part, he intended to watch persistently
and see i Leah left her prison, but there was
'no reason why Game Chicken and Nick should
remain in idleness. He suggested that the con-
tinue the search for Lee s quarters, an they
‘readily agreed and went about it.

Left alone. Hendrickson lay down at a con-
’venient point and began his watch.

It proved to be a long one, and he often grew
impatient as time were on, and fretted at his in-
:activni-yx Was he doing wisely to remain there
when loralice might be in danger at the hands
pf her rough calptors? Would Leah come forth
fit 3“? End 81 his planning been for nothing?

,ThQSG questions became more troublesome in
'his mind as the hours wore onand theday grew
old, and still there was no sign of Leah.

The sun moved down the western sky, but still
a silence was around him which was almost
deathli‘ke, and still he seemed to be utterly
alone in the Pyramids. Although no arrange
ment had been made he had scarcely expected
Game Chicken and the boy to remain away all
the afternoon. Why did they not come back to
see how he was getting along?

Their prolonged absence began to trouble him.
Had they gotten into trouble?

Lower and lower sunk the sun, and darkness
would soon be at hand. There were already
dark shadows in the ravines, which told of its
advance. Still Leah did not appear. Still his
.allies remained absent. ,

The suspense and uncertainty had become ac-
tuall painful. '

W at did it mean? Had everybody else left
the Pyramids and- Hal what was that? A stir
at the point awn which he had so long kept his
guns fixed. hat was it? Perhaps (:11 yl the;

n ye

there had seemed to be more.
1 0001? more be fixed his aze persistently and
then his heart bounded Wit exultation as Leah
Steppe? forth into view. After all, she had left
“rpm”, 311d it was a movement made by her
While ,mveSfiB‘afing that had first attracted his
attention.

She seemed to. have satisfied herself that no
one was 011 Watch» for. like a companion shadow
of the place, she moved quickly across the open
space and (11311 peered in a.ravine. But she did
not vanish .om Hendrickson’s sight. The
chance for which he had Waited was at hand.
and he was on her track with the persistence, if
not the skill, of an Indian.

No great amount of skill was needed. She

seemed to feel confident that she was free from I
‘ observation, and moved quickly and lightly for-

 

, Hendrickson

ward, gliding so steadily in one direction that
the ursuer’s ho rose high.

ere was, in eed, room to hope that he would
be able to find the Gypsy lair at last.

He followed for several minutes and found
himself being led beyond the region in which be
had believed the lair to be, but Leah finally
entered a broad ravine where short, dwarfed
trees and bushes seemed to hold full sway.

There it was harder to follow, for the shadows
of night were heavy, but the way was fairly
open, and he experienced no trouble on that
score.

Finally the girl paused and he saw a but be-
fore them. It nestled under the trees at the
foot of a cliff, and seemed to be an insignificant
affair, but it was plainly for this that Leah had
been making. She stopped at the door and tried
to open it, but without avail.

Almost at the same moment, however, heavy
footsteps sounded close at hand, and a man
strode toward her. Even in the darkness Hen-
drickson recognized Nat Lee, and he felt re-
newed confidence. The Gypsy however, came
to a sudden halt as he saw .eah, and then
allowed the breech of his rifle to fall heavily to
the round.

“ a!” he exclaimed in a voice anything but
friendly, “so it’s you. W'hat in perdition do
you want here? Couldn't you be content with
drivin’ me out, but must follow me here an’ kick
up a fresh row? What new scheme is in your
fertile brain?"

CHAPTER XXXIII.
NAT CHANGES HIS MIND.

LEAH made a quick, deprecating esture.

“Don’t turn against me now, at. I have
come to you to humble myself, and my heart is
breaking Don’t crush me uttzzlly l”

The big Gypsy looked surpri .

“ Hallo! what’s up now?”

“ Everything is going wrong. The Pyramids
are full of men searching for that Heath wo-
man—”

“ I know that.” I

“And both Kit and the old woman are in
mutiny. The mone promised us for stealing
the girl is not fort coming, and Webber now
says he can’t get it. Kit and Dame Hagar
swear that it’s no pay, no work,” and are all
a inst me. You know what the are when
t ey get started. No argument can ove them:

 

they won’t listen to reason. That’s why I have _

come to you.”

“In other words, failin’ ter make fools 0’
them, you have come ter me," growled Nat.

“ No, no! I don’t want to make‘a fool of any-

in despair. Don’t you turn against me!”

“ l tol’ you last night that I had quit, an’ I
mean it. Iain’t sorry on the whole. I dunno
why I’ve stuck ter ther gang ez long ez I hcv.
The old woman is a foril, zin‘ Kit is a stubborn
mule. I am done with them, rn’ with you.” ’

“Nat, don’t say that. Don’t see a Woman in
despair and then turn a deaf ear. I know you
don’t like me, and it is only natural We have
quarrel often, and in hot temper was mainl
res nsib e for it. But ’m low down now, and
fee like crawlin at your feet. Don‘t crush me
any more than am already crushed.”

“ Heigho!” quoth Nat evidently surprised,”
the aueen is humble. What do you want 0’ me,

'rl?”

“ I want the prisoner taken out'of the hands
of Kit and the old woman.”

“ Dismiss them.” .

“ They would go straight to Buck Basin and
betray me. and as I can’t get the prisoner awa
alone, she would be there and be rescued.
want you to join me and aid me to get her
away. Drop your samples for once; you are as
bold as a lion and have run greater risks.”

Nat did not answer at once, and Hendrickson
watched him with almost as much interest,
though not with the neryous anxiety of Leah.
The detective saw hope in this discord in the
abuctor’s camp. . -

Suddenly the‘big Gypsy aroused.

“ I’ll walk with ye toward the cave, an" we’ll
talk it over an’ see. Come!”

He swung his arm around her waist as he
spoke. ,She perceptiny shrunk from the caress
but only for a moment. Then they walked
away together.

Hendrickson followed as closely as he dared.
He wished then that stout Game Chicken was
With him, but wished in vain. He must follow
the adventure alone for the present, take what
turn it might. Nat Lee’s manner rather sur—
prised him, and he began to have a suspicion in

is mind that the supposed relationship between
him and Leuh Was a purely imagine one.
When his manner so abruptly cha it be-
came more lover-like than brotherly.

They Went down the ravine and then nearly
due east, and at so slow a that Hendrickson
had no~trouble about following. In this way he
was led to still another new locality.

Finally a ravine. was reached where. if the
now almost total darkness was not deco ve, the
walls thereof were a mass of vines an bushes.
and the pursued disappeared at one side as be-
yond a veil. ‘ ’
pressed forward‘and found that

 

the vines formed a veritable curtain, behind
which was some sort of a recess. All was in-
tensely dark, however, and though he was letting
them gain on him he would not follow too pre-
cipitately. The Lees were not people to use soft-
gloved hands in an emergency.

Creeping forward, he felt his way for fifty
feet and then found a gap in the wall of rock at
his right, and this was so suggestive of a cave
that edetermined to test it. Accordingly be
advanced in that direction, moving very slowly,
and keenly on the watch for danger.

The passage resolved itself into a place where,
it seemed, the cliff had sometime been rent asun-
der, and he was just be ' ning tolcse faith in
his first idea when the aint glow of a fire be—
came visible.

Instantly he was on the alert, and with all _ ;
haste that he dared use he went further forward. 
If he was really near the party he sought, he 
wanted to et eyes on them at once. He was
not disa pomted. Rounding a corner of rock, ' _
he saw the fire, with Nat and Leah by it. They ‘
were near—so near that only his own caution I f, '
saved him from discovery. ,,; 

But he saw no one else. A spacious cave- ’ Vi'
chamber was beyond him, but only two persons ~ 
were visible. _  '-

Stay! There were signs of occupancy, if not ' m“;
of many occupants. Cooking utensils were near r
the fire. and other articles which seemed suitable _ >
to the Gypsies. I ’ ‘ ‘

If he had doubted before, he was soon cOn- 
vinced. From the further end of the place 2:. ~ -’ fj
female form suddenly appeared, and he at once
recognized Dame Lee.

She advanced and looked at the couple by the
fire in anything but an amiable mood.

“ So you’re back, my bold lad l"

“ As ou see,” Nat coolly replied.

“ I thOught you had Sworn not to come to us
again while this girl was with us.”

“ Changed my mind,” Nat tersely returned. ,

“ You don’t seem to hate Leah as much as
5'02: did."

“ By the fiends, I do!” cried the old woman,
smiting one hand upon the other. “ Do you ‘
10103:, she can’t get any money for us.” ‘

5‘ Y0?

“ Not a cent. Now, we’ve been and stolen the
other girl, all because she romised us money
from Webber, and that litt e fool says he can t
get the money. More likely, he don’t care to
get it, now the girl’s stolen—curse him!”

“ Take it easy, old woman.” ‘

“ Easy! What’s come over you, Nat Lee? A
little time ago you were bowling and cursin ,
and now you’re a lamb, a-grinning at i.
What does it mean?”

“ We], you see Leah an’ me have made up.”

“Oh! you have, eh? Maybe you’ll pay me
the money.” 4 3:

“ I’ll give you my note,” Nat replied. with a'
broad smile. ’ 

“Clarence Webber is coming here to-night,” ‘
added Leah. “ Make him pay.” 1 ‘ ; _

“ I’ll try, and if I fail somebody will be sorry ~ ' '
for it. I was a fool to move at at all until I saw
the cash, but you were in a great rush.” v ,

She addressed the remark to Leah, but met. 
with no refily. Instead, the latter seemed dc?  , "
flant, and t e old woman looked at her fixedly '
several moments before she turned away. “Pro. '.
bably Dame Hagar had seen too much of the .
world to trust this sudden peace between the -_
young people, followed as it was by Leah’s, ~;,
change of mood. ‘ ‘

As for Hendrickson, he was considering his
next move. Beyond a doubt Floralice was in fl
the cave, but how was she to be rescued? If he .. 3. 
had been backed by Game Chicken he would ;
have moved at once, but Nat was a giant, well-
armed and desperate, and the old woman was
sgid to always carry a revolver and be a dead
5 0t. . 3:

Unless he could actuall see Floralice, hedid ' *
not care to engage such ds. « ‘

“ I reckon I must back out and hunt up Game '
Chicken. Protany Kit Lee is in the cave, and. 
it will be no mean attempt to whip this crowd.
With Ben at my lack, however, I can and will I
risk the odds.” \ 5

He was about to turn away when, without 5'
the slightest warning, some hing which he _
thought might have been a locommive ran '
against him from the rear, and he was‘ flung for- L
ward with such force that he fell prostrate at
Dame Hagar’s feet. 2,

Leah uttered a little scream and Nat m
up with an oath, but before Hendrickson
make a successful move to rise a heavy weight ,
beat him down again, and he caught a glimpse 
of Kit Lee‘s face. .

The fellow seemed in a very vicious mood, and “’
the probability that he might be murdered on, ,
the spot stirred Hendrickson to resolute ac! ion. " 5

Putting forth all his strength he whirled Kit  , »
to one side. but he sprung to his feet only to.   '
find himself facing a revolver in Net’s band. '-

“No you don’t, critter!” exclaimed the .
Gy . “I’ve a word to say about this - ,
fair. Hold right on whar you be!” ’

It was a command which meant business, but
Hendrickson was himself fulcl‘y amised.’ His
handweht into his pocket an then came out

 

   
  
  
    
   
   
   

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holding a revolver, and the battle would quick-
ly have been opened in earnest but for the in-
tervention of another party.

Leah sprung forward and threw her arms
about Hendrickson, effectually shielding him
from Nat.

“Let him alone!” she cried. “I, too, have a
revolver, and Iwill use it if you touch this
man!”

Nat’s face grew dark with passion.

“Oh! you will, eh?” he cried. “Didn’t you
tell me you would throw him over an’ take
me?”

“That makes no difference; you shall not
harm him. Let him alone!”

“ Just give me a hack at him,” said Kit, who
had risen, and he tried to move around to the
rear.

In a moment Leah’s revolver covered him.

“ Stand where ou are 1” she cried.

“Just so,” cool y added Hendrickson. “ I am
also in this game, and I decline to be shot. You
fellows can’t carry too high a. hand, or I’ll show
you what I can do at shootin . Come, men, be
reasonable and listen to me. have no wish to
quarrel with you if you will be sensible. All I
ask is that you will produce Floralice Heath.
You’ll newr get any money from Clarence Web-
ber, for he could not buy you a secondhand
coat. Your easiest way is to throw up a bad
bargain and let me take Miss Heath. As for

on, Nat, I won’t stand in your light; you can
ave Leah.”

“Don’t you trust him, lads!”
“He’saliar and I know it.

cried Danie

Kill the

“ Keep off !” retortcd Hendrickson. “ I‘ll
shoot the man who stirs first.”

It was an awkward pause, and a brief silence
followed. Leah did the quickest thinking of all.
She felt that the intruder was only too sincere in
offering to give her up, but her hopes Were hard
lived. In some way she trusted that she. might

' win him yet, and would not let her. anger rule

She still sheltered him as mu:-h as

possible with her own person and faced the Lee
rothers defiantly.

“ This is a pretty business!” cried Danie
Hagar. “ Are we to be bullied in our own home
like this?”

“ You are not to be allowed to steal innocent
girls, anyhow,” Hendrickson answered. “ Let

,me assure you that the safest way for you is to
, give Floralice up quietly); Do this and on

efuse, and it wil be
made hot for you.”

“ The girl is not here.”

“ FloraliCe Heath is here I”

The words sounded behind the old woman,
and she wheeled like a flash. There stOod Flora-
lice, herself, looking remarkably calm and self-

; so all denials would henceforth be

own away. But she turned to Leah with a

look anything but mild.

“ I hope you are satisfied with your work
now, but do not flatter yourself that I am any
.lon r in the dark."

\‘ don’t know what you mean, but—”

“ I will tell on what I mean, and in few

words. Your disguise is a good one, but I know
on at last. I know you, and I find your heart
be same as of old.”

“ You are talking wildly,” began Leah, fal-

terin ly but Floralice vehemently interrupted:

“ il lyl Why shouldn’t I be wild? Is it
natural that I shouli be calm when I am hunt-
, ed down by my own sister 1’”

CHAPTER XXXIV.
REVOLVER-SHOTS IN THE: DARK.
Hmmmcxsou could not avoid a start, and
for once Leah’s ready tongue seemed to lose its
'K power. She looked confused and disma ed, and
e as the accusation seemed, the etective

 

l A believed it to be true.

“My sister 1” Floralice added, with cold sar-
“ Who would look for such devotion as

yours when the tie is so. distant. Only sisters,
, and yes your heart is warm. You do not for-

t me.
" ,, “‘ 80“The least said here the better,” Leah hur-

riedly interrupted.
“ No doubt you think so.”
“You don‘t understand—”
“I understand only too well, Frances Heath.

37* You gave a sample of your imperious, over-

“,9.

 

riding way some years ago, and showed that
where your interests were concerned you would

 1stop at no crime. You are still the same.

chanced to be in your way, so I was kidnapped
and shut up here—and b m sister!”
Hendrickson looked a s lent wonder. For
the first time he saw a likeness between these
€313. There was the same hard, imperious wa ,
t as he looked at Floralice’s beautiful face e

~"montally breathed a pra er that. despite adverse

circumstances, she migh prove to be other than
a criminal.

The Lees no longer showed a disposition to
form matters to‘xa crisis with their revolvers.

,y.‘ "The principals were on the scene, and they

seemed content to let them settle the whole
. flair. Leah, however, was not in a mood for

 action. She was almost crushed. In order to

 

win Hendrickson she had abducted Floralice,
‘ and now the lovers met again and her rival had

 

unmasked her in the presence of the man she
aspired to win.

“Well,” curtly added Floralice, “have you
nothing to say?”

“If you will wait, I will explain.”

“Nonsense! You merely wish to avoid ex-
posure in the presence of Edgar Hendrickson.”

“ There need be no hesitation on that score,”
interrupted that gentleman. “I understand
already that 'ou were abducted because Leah
thought that cared more for you than for her.
We need not discuss this point. I am here to

 

conduct Miss Heath back to Buck Basin, and as f

the secret of the case is a secret no longer, I
think I may as well go at once.
will oppose me.”

“ It s jest as Leah says,” put in Nat Lee. “ Ef
she bids you two go free, you can scoot; if she
sa 5 not, no human power kin take you through.

hicli is it, Leah, girl? Speak out!”

She of the dusky face looked at Heiidrickson,
and there was eloquence in her gaze. Crushed
and helpless, she could only muter iin lore him
to turn from her rival and to her. wice her
lips moved before she spoke, but blind, indeed,
would she have been not to see that his cold, set
face gave no encouragement.

Finally she answered:

“ I must talk with you and the rest first. Mr.
Hendrickson—and that woman—can go back to
the other room and wait for our Verdict."

“ Why should you hesitate f” the detective
asked.

“ I may want toblow this cave end all its con-
tcntsto ruin l” the girl fiercely replied.

“ Not me—I )ass!” cried Nut.

Floralice mm c a quick motion to iicndrick-
son which seemed to‘ bid him agree to Leah’s
plan, and he objected no longer. They retired
to an alcove off the main room, where the pris-
oner had been kept, and the Lees gathered for
consultation.

The young couple paused where they could
watch.

Before the conference could be begun, how-
ever. there was a stir in the other room, and
Clarence \Vebber a ipeared from the direction
of the entrance. lt was no surprise, even to
Hendrickson, after what he had heard, but
Floralice’s hand closed tightly over his arm.

“ There is one who is as much to blame as she
is,” Miss Heath said, in a hard voice.

“ W ehber is a rejected, revengeful suitor .4”

If Yes.”

“ His race is about run, I think. From what I
have overheard it seems that he promised the
Lees a good deal of money and now he can raise
nothing. They are very bitter against him—
Ahl he is learning it now!”

Such was the fact. Dame Hagar had promptly
proceeded to ventilate her grievance, and was
standing in front of Clarence, pourin out her
anger in a way peculiar to her nimb e tongue
an shaking her fist near his face, while Nat and
Kit backed her up, and scowled darkl on him.
Dissensions there might be in the fami y, but all
were agreed on one point; they loved money, and
Clarence had failed to make good his promise to
pav them.

Clarence was frightened; there could be no
doubt as to that; and he made desperate efforts
to argue the matter and, probably, to re-establish
his reputation.

How he succeeded those in the alcove could
not tell, but afterastormy interview of ten min-
utes, Dame Hagar’s violence abated and it seem-
ed probable that some compromise had been ar-
rived at.

Hendrickson would not have stood there to see
the end of the interview, but Floralice aswred
him that there was but one way out of the cave,
and the indifference of the Lees confirmed this
statement.

Perhaps half an hour assed, and then Nat,
Clarence and Leah walk away into the dark
recesses of the cave at the north. Kit threw
himself down by the fire, and the old woman ad-
vanced toward the alcove.

Reaching Hendrickson and Floralice, she gave
her head a quick, short jerk.”

“ You can go ” she said.

“ Back to Buc Basin, do you mean?” I

“ Anywhere vyou see fit.”

“Thanks. e will go at once.”

Hendrickson spoke coolly, and. motioning to
Floralice, led the way to the main room. Kit
had lighted a short. black pipe and was smok-
in slowly, looking sullenly into the fire.

6 scene was peaceful enough, but Hendrick-
son placed no great amount of Confidence in it.
He belieVed the Lees capable of any crime, and
expected a shot from the interior as they passed
the fire. None came, however, and they enter-
ed the passage safely.

“ Are we really going out unmolested?” Flo-
ralice doubtfull asked.

“ I wish I cou d believe it, but I have no con-
fidence in these pco 'e.

“ But we havo le them all behind.”

“ Are you sure?” ,

“ They are all in the cave.”

“ Unless there is another place of exit. It is
that which I fear. They may have gone out to
prepare an ambush. "

I hope no one i

 

“ Do you really fear it?”
“ I have no confidence in them. I don’t want

‘ n

to alarm you, but it is not safe to trust them.
Nat Lee is a desperate man, and Webber and
Leah rank but little below him in that respect.
Is the latter real] your sister?”

“ You heard w at I said. Don‘t ask me more
now.”

Floralice spoke nervously, and the subject
was dropped. It was no time to pursue it.
They were nearing the outer air, and Hendrick<
son felt that he needed to be keenly on the. alert

for danger. . The way was intensely dark. and

assassins mi ht lurk at any step.

The reac ed the curtain of vines and went
on. few steps more and they would be in the
ravine.

Suddenly Heiidrickson paused.
footstep, or did his ears conjure 11
He pressed Floralice back. and hot stOod close
to the wall of rock. A footstep? Yes: there
can no lon er be a doubt of it. Some one be-
sides themse ves was astir.

He pressed Floralice’s arm significantly, and
neither spoke a word. Some one was advancing
along the passage, in the way they had just
come. The unknown might have no evil mo-
tive, but the detective did not trust him.

He came nearer—pea rer yet.

He reached their side—was so near that they
might have touched him.

Then he went on. Who it was they could not
tell. All persons were alike in that dark place.
But he passed and advanced toward the end of
the curtain.

Suddenly the almost total silence was broken,
rudely, and in a startling way. There was a
flash of light in front of the unknown, the report
of a revolver, a groan, a fal. All had been so
quickly done that it seemed but a breath of time
when the unknown was down, dying. perhaps;
certainly wounded.

He was not dead. There was another flash of
light after a moment: this time at a place and
hight which indicated that he had raised him-
se f on his elbow and fired; and a startled cry
followed it.

The tables had been turned.

Hendrickson waitpd for no more. Grasping
Floralice’s hand he sprung at the vine—curtain
and began a fierce attempt to fight his way
through. It resisted for a moment, but he
whi lped out his knife, and the keen blade did
g work. Voices were sounding behind them,
and he thought be distinguished Kit Lee's. but
just in the nick of time the fugitives foi'ght
their way through the curtain.

The ravine lay before them, and they made all
haste to get away from the locality of danger.
As they went they could hear quick exmted
voices at the place they had just left, and it
spurred them on.

“Murder has been done!” said Floralice.

“I believe it.” ,

“But who is—the victim ?” she faltcrod.

“That I don’t know, but one thing I think
I do understand. A trap was set for us, and
one of the trappers ran into it. I mistrusted
them all the time, and I now believe that they
intended to kill us both. Some flaw in their
plans evidently proved fatal.”

“ Poor Frances!” sighed Floralice.

“ You feel for her, guilty as she is.”

“She is my sister, and I believe her temper
amounted to mania. ho e—”

She did not finish the sentence, and they hur-
ried on down the ravine. Hendrickson no
longer had any great fear of pursuit, but they
were in the heart of the Pyramids and it would
be no easy matter to reac Buck llasin.

Even as he was thinking this, two figures ap-
peared in front of them and he threw up his re-
volver. Had the Lees made better pro ress
down the ravine than they? Was there to is a
deadly fight, after all?

CHAPTER XXXV
THE BLOW FALLS.

WHEN Bri adier Baldy arose he devoted his.
thoughts exc usively to those dc} endent upon
him, as usual. He had more need of care and
skillful plannin than ever before. Not onl
Hugh, but Bug ’3 wife and child, were on his
hands, and it Would be a minder if he could
keep their presence a secret frtm his own vixen

Wife.

Luckil he had food enough to last them all
during t e forenoon, and Hugh’s condition was
very encouraging. 'lhe presence of his loved
(nes was the best medicine he could have. had,
and a perceptible gain cheered the old Brigadier’s
h

“'as that a
the sound?

\

eart. ,

He ave Eulalie careful injunctions to keep
the child quiet, and then sent down as usual to
his own breakfast.

As usual, too, Mrs. Benmarsh had some cause»
to exercise her tongue, and as it wasa fresh,
though insignificant, grievance, she showed an-
common or in abusing some person to
“81"???in ed hi id 1‘ r 'l

e gs erpursu so pmcyo men
and let her go on unmolested; indeed, he hardIya
heard a word she said. He had more important
matters on his mind.

Breakfast eaten, he left the house, and started
toward Evan Conrad’s. He noticed a crowd ‘in
front of the hotel, but, as this was ufte com-
mon, paid no attention to it. He wi togive

l
l

 

17.7

 

 

 

 

 

 

 47/1;

’ i 01d Baldi-

 

 

2'7

 

 

Edwina directions and have the food ready by
noon.

“ If only discovery can be averted for a few
days,” he thought, “ I feel sure that Hugh Will
be so well that he can go on to some other town.
I will somehow get money enough to help him
there—him and his loved ones. I trust this cloud
will soon pass away. As for Bernard Boyne, he
is evidently getting no new evidence in the
Knight case, and he will soon become disgusted
and go away.”

“'ith this cheerful view of the case the Old
Brigadier walked on toward Conrad‘s. ' _

As he neared the house he saw smoke arismg
as usual, but no one was visible. . This was. not
strange, and as he was never in the habit of
rapping, he opened the door and walked in un-
inVited. . .

Still silence; still no one was VISIble. .

Perhaps the young con 10 were late, and still
at breakfast. He open the kitchen door and
entered. Evan was not there but Edwina was,
and as he saw her Brigadier Baldy started back
in dismay

IVas this woman who sat, weeping by the lip-
Covercd table the ordinarily cheerful Edwina?
Yes; she lifted a pale, tear-stained face, and the
change startled the old man.

“ Child. what is wrong!” he cried. I

The young wife threw herself on her knees at
his feet and clasped his hand.

“ Oh! I wish I were dead!
dead l” she wildly cried.

“Dead! Oh! my dear girl, do not speak like
that. It is not like you. Come, rise and take a.
chair again. Let me hear your trouble, and
perhaps ‘I can help you. At least, I Will try.”

“ Nobody can help me now.”

” Edwina, what is wrong?”

“ They have taken Evan away!" i

" Taken him away! WVho has done it, and
why?”

‘ It was Bernard Boyne, and—oh! Mr. Ben-
marshl—tliey accuse him of killing Shaffer
Knight!”

The Brigadier recoiled.

“ Accuse—whom t"

“ Evan. He is arrested for murder!”

Brigadier Baldy sat like one turned to stone.
His ruddy face which had not known. of old
how to grow pale was now pitifully white, and
every feature seemed to have frozen. His eyes
were unnatural! large, and his gaze fixed on
vacancy, and E winas sorrow was outwardly
weak com ared to the horror on his broad face.

Finally is lips moved.

“ Eran arrested for murdering Shafi‘er
Knight!" he said, in a husky whisper.

“ Oh! he never did it; I know he did not!” she
cried.

“ But why is he arrested?”

“ I don't know; Bo ne said the proof was
overwhelming against im.”

“ Are you sure he was arrested—formally ar-
rested?”

“ Yes. The detective said, in plain words: ‘ I
arrest you for the murder of Shaffer Knight 1’ ”

“ But he is not guilty.” _

“ I know he is not. He told Boyne so, and he
would get lie. Besides, he is incapable of such

I wish I were

mggut what could have led Boyne to arrest

The Bri ier was speaking like one in a

dream, an without any| idea that he was ad-
dressing Edwina, but e heard her answers
vaguely.

It was the work of Brian Marka know
it was. He hates Evan because he is my hus—
band, and swore that he would have revenge;
and he. told me some days ago that Evan was
guilty. Now he has told his lie to Boyne, and
they will take Evan away and kill him. Oh!
I wish they had killed me when they_took him
awa . My heart is breaking, Brigadier Baldy,
and wish I were dead. They will take him to
prison, and nobody that Ebenezer Pray ate
there ever ets away. They will murder im
—murder himl—and I—ohl my heart is break-

in l”.

Brigadier Baldyhad never before seen such

wild, passionate sorrow as this, and it brought
him out of his dazed condition. The blow had
been a terrible one to him, for. just when his ef-
forts were needed most a calamity had come
which left him no choice.
‘ Evan Conrad Was arrested for murder—for
killing Shatter Knight—and he must at once
tell the whole truth and surrender himself. It
was a bitter necessity, when Hugh and his help-
less ones had no other protector, but even if
Eva“ l!“th escape the extreme penalty of law
after his trial, the Old Brigadier could not see
Edwma suffer thus.

Let come what might, he must speak out at

once.

His noble face grew lof itiful and tender
as he arrived at this concltii’iiign, and he laid his
broad band on her fair head,

“Be cheered, sad heart!” he said, in a deep
voice. “It 18 110$ 88 bad as you think, and I
will save him et. I say to you in all sincerity
that on 11 not fear for Evan. You shall
have im safely back before night.”

Edwina rung up and seized his hand.

“Oh! wil you—can you‘do that! They call

I

 

you the bulwark of Buck Basin, and I know
your heart is rcater than any other man’s. But
can on save im?”

“ can and will.”

“ Oh! may Heaven bless you, Brigadier; you
don’t know how happy you have made me!
Go to him at once—go and send him back to
mel Save him, Brigadier—don’t let anything
stand in the way of your doing it.”

“ Nothing shall,” serenely replied the old man.
“I will go at once, and he shall be saved; he
shall come back to (you. Kiss me good-by—I
mean good luck—an I will go.”

Her lips were pressed to his, all unconscious
that that kiss meant a farewell, and with a ten-
der blessing the Brigadier left the house. He
walked firmly, and his calm face and erect form
seemed like those of one wholly at peace with
the world and happy. Yet his heart seemed
breaking.

His course was toward his old home, and he
was going to bid farewell to Hu h, Eulalie and
the child. He was about to m {e a vast sacri-
fice. He must leave his own loved ones to others’
kindness, and the Ruler of all men, in order to
save Evan Conrad.

It was the penalty of his crime.

His crime! He still called it that, admitting
no extenuating plea, and he was prepared to
sacrifice himSelf. He would have given all his
worldly possessions to delay until Hugh was safe,
but it could not He considered himself a
criminal, and any delay would be in defiance of
everything which should be heeded.

Evan Conrad must be saved.

\Vhen he reached his own house he entered at
once, and, unheeding the fact that Mrs. Ben-
marsh was not visible in the lower part of the
house, made his way up—stairs. As heascended
he heard the virago’s shrill voice there, but
dimly supposed she was talking with Clarence,
and it was not until he had fully ascended that
he saw that she stood in the doorway of his pri-
vate room.

She had discovered his secret guests.

Yes, there she stood, arms akimbo and head
thrown on one side, pouring out a torrent of
abuse on the unfortunate victims of her wrath.

Calmly the Old Brigadier pushed past her and
stood in the room. Hugh had been almost mutely
listening to her, while Eulalie clasped her child
to her bosom and looked the picture of dismay.

One moment the Woman was abashed by the
interruption, and then her old audacity re—
turned.

“ So,” she cried, in a loud voice, “I have your
secret at last! This isxwhy you have been so
much of a hermitl This is why you have al-
ways been short of money! This is what you
have lavished all your scant courtesy upon—your
forger son !”

She ointed a long, bony finger at Hugh, and
seem to think she crushed al the others with
her dignity.

“Your for er son I” she repeated. “ Your
convict son, t t should be—your jail-bird son!
And my poor dear boy is denied the smallest
pittances of life, while your son rolls in wealth
and luxury. A pretty state of affairs, indeed l”

“Whatever has been is now past,” the Old
Brigadier replied, as calml as though his heart
was not bleeding. “In t e future none shall
have cause to complain of partiality, for today
I step out of the arena of life. After this I shall
worry no one. I have come—”

“ Oh! yezgou can make fair (promises, now I
have detec your infamous ouble-dealingl”
cried Mrs. Benmarsh. “But don’t you think I
will behave you. We won‘t, nohowl A man who
will give all to his convict son and let my dear,
innocent, honest boy, Clarence, sufler for want
of mono is-—”

“Wat I” said the Brigadier, steadily. “ If
you will hear me, in, I will convince you
on one point at least. I am about 170—”

. Once more the terrible secret trembled on his
lips, but again he was interrupted. Two stern-
faced men entered the room, looked keenly
around, and Hugh Benmarsh grew paler than
ever.

One of the men advanced toward him with
slow, heavy steps. ' I

“ 1_amlook1ng for one Allen Gray, an escaped
convxct,” he said, stoically. “You are he. I
arrest you in the name of the law!”

CHAPTER XXXVI. ‘
THE on!) BRIGADIER srnaxs mmnv.

Umn Silence followed the last words, but
those who were in any degree in the secret could
not doubt that they had been spoken in earnest.
The intruders were strangers. they had an ofli-
cial bearing, and had selected Hugh without
trouble.

He knew one of them only too Well. He had
been an ofllICer in a certain State Prison from
which he had escaped. and it was he and others
who had been pursuing the unfortunate young
man.

The intrusion and the abrupt assertion provod
too much for Hugh, and the room seemed to
swim around him. Another moment and his
head fell back in his chair. and he lay there so
still and white that Eulalie hurriedly put down
her child and sprung to his side. 7
“ He has fainted l-he has fainted!” she cried.

l

‘ I I

 

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The officer caught up a pitcher of water.

“ Use this,” he tersely said.

Brigadier Baldy seemed incapable of moving
or speaking. Trouble was literally descending
upon him in a deluge, and this new calamity
made his position all the more bitter. He bed
been impatient to get away and clear Evan
Conrad rom a false charge, but how could Le
leave at such a time?

“ I expected this!” quoth Mrs. Benniarsh.
“Your forger son has run his race, and—"

The Brigadier pointed toward the door.

“ Go!” he said in a low, deep voice.

His manner aWed her for once.

“ Oh! very well,” she said with a toss of her
head; “if I am not good enough to stay here,
I’ll go 3”

And she flounced out of the room.

The Brigadier saw that Eulalie was doing all
that was pOSsible for Hugh. and he turned to
the nearest officer, much of his old calmness
back again:

“Sir,” said he, “ I am the father of this un--
fortunate young man. “ Do you really mean to
arrest him ?”

it Yes.”

“ He is not fit to be moved from here.”

“Then we shall wait until he can be moved.
A doctor shall settle that point. Were you
aware when you sheltered him that he was a.
fugitive from justice? But of course you were-
Perhaps you are also aware that your course -
may get you into trouble.”

“ That part is of no consequence. I am an old
man, and fast nearing my grave—faster than
you think, perhaps. I ask nothing for myself.
But my boy—can nothing more you to give up
your intentions in regard to him?”

“ Not much. Call him what you will, he is a
desperate criminal. He was in prison for forgery
when he escaped—and, by the way, there is a
mystery about that escape. He was gotten out.
by a woman. What woman? Perhaps this one
who seems so broke up now that Justice has
come to him.”

He looked suspiciously at Eulalie, but she
turned toward him quietly:

“In one word,” she answered, “ I can prove» '
an alibi. Do not suspect me, for I have a child
for which to care.” ~

“ I’ll take your word for it, just now. for you
don’t look the size that Horace Ames did, but if ‘
you are him nobod can get you out. I’ve made
one 3000 and I" like another. I say, Allenp
Gray, 01 , y, are you ready to go with me?”

Hugh had opened his eyes and was looking at
them understandingly, but he looked like one.
whose life was fast oozin away.

“ Do with me as you Will,” he answered, “ and
if you would be merciful, kill me at once. Bet—
tir (tihat than to part in life from my Wife and
c il .

“Quite Poetic, but hardly to the point,” said
the ofiicia from the prison. ,
“Our man is not fit to leave here now,” said
the second officer, critically.

is a bed and a doctor. Lie down, Gray l”

Hugh endeavored to obe , but was so weak

that the Brigadier and anot er man had to hel

him. The Village doctor was then sent for. e ’ I i

came and pronounced the caseicritical, and per-
emptorin declared that the patient must not 
moved until he was much better. Unlesshe had
{fist and good care, he would not answer for 
e. '
The room was accordingly turned into a hosé

pital, and the oflicers prepared to make the best i  

of the situation. They regarded their capture ‘
as of sufficient importance to admit of some in-
convenience. and settled down to put up with
the inevitable.

Brigadier Baldy seemed like one stunned.
Despite his promise to Edwina he did not go to

the otel and tell the story which was to free" . " 1

Evan Conrad, but it was because he was almost,
literally heart-broken. How could he leave '
while affairs were at such -a point in his Own
home?

' Both Hugh and Eulalie leaned wholly upon

him. They did not expect him to save Hugh 1 3“

from prison, but Eulalie wanted his advice al-

most constantly, and the sick man as often her 

sought him to care for his wife and child when
he was taken away.

The poor Old Bri
and he knew not w t to do. As the emergency
at home seemed the most pressing, however. he
remained there and did not even see the villa-
Ears who had come to him in the new crisis for

el .

'l’he time had at last come when he felt incap~ ~
able of help' any one. ' '

Thus the forenoon. __

Short y after this as one of the officers was
pacing along the side of the house he was ap-

proached by a stranger who first polime asked, ‘ .

for a match, and then came to more important
business.

:: I hear yvou have business up there." ,

u.

“Yes. Got old Benmarsh’s son, the say.
Now, that is none of my busines, and don’t
care about it. What I am interemd in is his
wife—I hear he has a. wife. I’d like to see but.
if agreeable to you.” ' 0'

“You would. Why?”

“What he wants .  ' '1

dier was between two fires, .

 

     

as

Old 'Baldy.

 

 

“ I suspect that she might do me a favor of
im rtance. Fact is, I’m a private detective,
, am I’ve been on a trail of late which may take
her in.”
‘ “Who are you, anyway?”
i. “My name is Sowders—Tom Sowders. And
' / :8peaking of names, isn’t hers Eulalief” -
“ What if it is?” demanded the oflicer, with
growing suspicion.
“ Simpl this: If it is, she can help me in my
work if s e will, and as I said before I am on
a trail. I have been on it for some time, and
of all the blind ones I’ve struck, it’s the worst.
But you will make all serene if you will let
me see Mrs. Eulalie.”
“ I decline. Whatever you are, you are not
wanted here; moreover, you Won’t be had here.
I suspect some scheme to rescue the risoncr,
I butgour game Won’t work. You see t e street
s", ,yon er of course. Try the walking there.”
Sowders protested against this verdict, but
all in vain. The officer was firm, and he was
forced to beat a retreat. He went directly to
 a certain house‘in the village, and when his
v '- , knock had brought a woman to the door, abrupt-

ly said:
0 “ Tell Miss Heath she is wanted.”
“ Miss Heath is not here,” was the reply.
“ Gone out for a walk?"
“Worse than that. She is supposed to have
' been kidnapped by enemies. At any rate she
has mysteriously disappeared, and there can be
no d,ubt that she is in serious trouble of some
. , ' .sort.’
7 Sowders whistled in surprise, and then asked
I for particulars. They were given, and he
seemed very much annoyed. Floralice had dis-
a peared and he had no clew to her where-
abouts. He had many questions to ask, but,
when he saw how useless questioning was, gave
, it u and went away.
/ , . “ trange!” he muttered, as he went down
,I the street. “It seems to beamissing family.
' [Here I have just got my rip in the matter, and
~ «a slight hope of winning loralice’s gratitude——
j '1." . rhaps her heart—and now she disappears like
'6 morning dew. It is confounded hard luck!”
I , And then he went to solace himself with talk
l; concerning the Knight murder case.
‘i , Conrad was held prisoner in a room at the
betel, arded by Pray and another man, while
330 o ooked for fres evidence a ainst him;
; bu as none was forthcoming, and t e detective
.3 did not in the least like Buck Basin, he decided
{W a ‘ to take his prisoner away that night.
' r / “70rd was accordin 1y sent to Edwina that
 she could come and bid her husband good-by,
‘ - and they were granted the privilege of an in-
' terview lasting half an hour. Then she was
._ sent but, and preparations were made for de-
 f“; ', parturc.
‘: 3' " All Buck Basin knew that Conrad was to be
1 taken away, and men, Women and children
,gathered to see him go. Nearly all were in
'. . pathy with the. prisoner, but they were law-
4»: 3a iding people and. their feelings were kept un-
. r H ‘. der good control.
 (I. '~ ‘Finally the official party emerged from the
 _ “hotel door. Conrad was ironed, and Bone
,rJ ‘ ' walked on one side and Pray on the other. he
i». a“ fidetective had profited by experience and, though
’ on e alert, was uiet and reserved of manner,
' ,but ra regard these spectators as dust un-

 

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" «dcr his eet, and offensive dust, at that, and

5 did not hesitate to show the fact.
'_ , The people had formed in two lines, and the
ofllcial party started through them, but only a
 few ste s had been taken when Edwina darted
1.3.- .1ori’va and threw her arms around Conrad’s

‘ ' ‘nec .

'  “Oh, no, no!” she wildly cried; “don’t take
’ himaway. He is all I have, and in heart is
., ,' Don’t take him away-7 ou shall

., 
V" . Fray uttered an oath, and seiziiiig her rudely,
 tan or backward into the crow .
“ eep out of this, you beggar! Hands off,
or I’ll have you arrested and—
; v- I“ Stop!”
 v’ It was a deep, impressive voice from the
v crowd, and there stood the Old Brigadier with
one arm thrown protectineg about the young
"wife. He had never looked more noble and im-
. passive, and a flush of indignation dyed his
"  cheeks. Even his inoflensivo nature was stir-
1 - .red by such rough treatment of a stricken
, ~ woman, and Pray was met by a glance that did
 (not flinch.
“ I am the protector of this poor child,” the
, ' Old Brigadier added, “ and you will molest her
 Q" atgoour peril. Who dares do it?”
it; ,‘ yne saw danger in the air, for the men of
~;.  Buck Basin, peaceful as they were, were but

 

1

 

z ’human, and a word from a leader at a crisis is.

, like the touch of fire to tinder. He was has-
‘gning to reply paciflcally, but Pray was ahead

him. I
' “He! is this a riot?” cried the agent, hotly.
., “Maybe you want to go to yell yourself, and
“,3; you will go if on interfere w th officers in the

discharge of t sir duty. Carry this any fur-
‘ *  am} you will keep Conrad company in the
up /
*‘ Evan Conrad will not go to prison!” Brig-
iad‘i‘cé Bald steadily answered. '

, Benmarsh,” interrupted Beyne.

 

 

“Surely, you are too old to incite rebellion to
the law.”

“ I have no wish to do so, but when I say he
will not go to prison it is because he is an inno-
cent man. Evan Conrad had no share in Shaf-
fer Knight’s death. I am here to save him, and
to deliver the real criminal into your hands."

“ Oh, Brigadier save him 1” cried Edwina.

“I will save. Iiisten to me, Bernard Beyne!
You have arrested an innocent man, but the
real criminal is within your reach. He is ready
to surrender himself, and to confess.”

“ What jugglery is this?” Beyne incredulously
demanded. “ I am not to be deceived by a
trifik.” Show me your alleged criminal. Where
is e?

“ Here!” re lied the Old Brigadier, in a deep
voice. “ 00 at me and you will see him.
Release Conrad, who is wholly innocent, and
take the real criminal. I, and I alone, inur-
dered Shafler Knight!”

CHAPTER XXXVII.
A NEW HAND AT THE WHEEL.

PRISONER, officers and spectators stared at
Brigadier Bald in mute amazement. Nothing
else that could ave ha pened. would have sur—
irised them so much ast is astounding assertion.

be kind old Brigadier was the last man whom
they would have supposed capable of harming a
human being.

But he, heedlcss of the sensation he had
caused, still stood erect and soldier-like, his
noble face calm and peaceful of expression. The
eventful step was taken, and his heart could
not be more heavily stricken than it was al-

 

readIy.

“ am the prisoner whom you should take,
and the only one,” he added. “ I killed Shafl’er
Knight, or, rather, left him to die. It is all
one; I ask no favor. I have ke t silent, hoping
you would fail to find a clew, But will not see
an innocent man suffer. Conrad is innocent.”

“ This is incredible," said Boyne, in per-
plcxity.

“It is true.”

“ But why should you kill Knight?”

“ ’Tis too long a story to tell here. Take me
to prison and I will give the whole in detail.”

“ A better way will be to hear your story
here. Pray, we will not leave Buck Basin to-
night. VVe’ll adjourn to the hotel and hear this
man’s stor .”

The span er knew the value of (prompt action
in an emergency, and as he feare that the vil~
1a ers might rise in a body to aid their idol, the
0 d Brigadier, he took measures to get his party
back into the hotel with such good judgment
that it was done before the former fully recover-
ed from their stupefaction. Conrad was not re‘
leased. but close watch was kept over both him
and the Brigadier.

Then the crowd found their tongues, and they
talked a good deal, if not to the point. Every-
body had something to say, but as no two agreed
it amounted to but little. Kind friends took
Edwina in, nearly prostrated, and the greater
part of the people remained in front of the hotel
waiting for news.

They waited for hours, but nothing definite
came. A consultation was going on in Boyne’s
room, but 0 inions were divided as to the result.
Some thong t that Conrad would be free in the
morning" others declared that even Beyne must
see that t is Brigadier had falsely accused himself
to save Conrad.

Nlo one thought that their “ bulwark ” could be
gui ty.

It was late when the crowd broke up and went
to their homes, but they Were astir early in the
morning and flocking to the hotel to learn the
latest news.

The landlord said he knew nothing aboutthe
matter, but to a favored few he gave the in-
formation that Edgar Hendrickson had come
back ust before daybreak, and, learning the
news, ad earnestly requested the host to get
him a chance to speak with Brigadier Baldy.

Circumstances made this possible, and there
had been an interview between the two men,
but Hendrickson had been non-committal as to
the result. He had. however, been fl 'ng in
3251 out of the hotel ever since, the! spea er ad-

Unconscious of this activity on the part of a
man he had hardly noticed, Bernard Beyne
arose and began preparations for departure.
Unable to decide whether the story told by
Bri adier Baldy ought to be believed, and sus-
pic ous that it was a mere sacrifice to save Con-
rad he had decided to take both men along
with him, and let a higher authority decide as
to who was guilty.

He had said that they would go immediately
after breakfast. and ,though he rose late, he hur-
ried matters when once up.

He was just finishing breakfast when a man
entered the room, unannounccd. It was Hen-
drickson. Beyne'frowned at the intrusion, but
as he could not afford to anger any on at
Back Basin. let it pass and greeted the w-
comer civilly.

“ You’ll excuse me,” said Hondrlckson, quiet-
ly; “but I heard you Were about to go. and I
gave a word to sav before then. It is about

van Conrad. He is not guilty, and as it would

, k

t  I

 

be a slight inconvenience to jail him for five or
iiixmngonths, I must request that you don’t take

“You’ll excuse me,” Boyne replied' “ but
neither you nor I can judge his case. It must
go to a higher source.”

“ I propose to convince you differently.”

“ Do you speak for the village people?”

“ I speak for myself alone.”

“Then I must ask on to let the matter alone.
I am a detective in t e lawful discharge of my
duty, and I warn you not to interfere.”

“ I am extremely sorry to disappoint you, but
it must be so. I give two reasons for my course
—first, I, too, am a detective; second, I was on
the case before you, and have what you lack—-
the fac:s of the case.”

“You’ll have to prove that you are a detec-
tive before I believe you,” Beyne retorted. “I
am not to be humbugged.”

“ 0n the contrary, you are easily humbugged.
As for me, read these pa ers.”

He placed several on t e table before Beyne.
They were conclusive, several being letters from
the most prominent police chiefs in the coun-
try, and the reader found himself obliged to
yield a point. He did it with a bad grace, ad-

din§
“ on say you have the facts in the Knight
case. Where, then, is your prisoner?"

“We’ll talk of that when I’ve got rid of
yours. First. let me prove that you have made
a blunder. Come in!

He spoke the last words in an elevated voice,
and the door opened and Brian Markoe, Clar-
ence Webber and Game Chicken entered. Bri-
an was lo and his face bore a hunted look,
while i cbber seemed very) weak from seine
cause, and was supported y the ex-pugilist’s
strong arm. He was at once helped to a chair,
where he sat, looking so wretched in every way
that even Beyne was surprised.

“ We will now hear the truth about Conrad,”
said Hendrickson, quietly. “Markoe, tell us
what you know about it.” -

Brian moved restlessly.

“All the evidence against him is a lie,” he ‘

answered, nervous] . “ Shaffer Knight came to
Buck Basin on a fa errand. He had been in-
formed by letter that Conrad was about to flee
with the proceeds of his crops and leave Sinclair
Rhodes in the lurch. The letter was a lie. I
wrote it.”

“ Tell us why,” said Hendrickson, coolly.

“I hated Conrad because he was to marry
Edwina Vane. I loved her, too. When I saw
that she was going to him I thirsted for revenge.
I (put up the job with Clarence Webber as my
ai , and, as far as I know, Conrad never medi-
tated improper conduct toward Rhodes. Knight
came on a false clew.” I

“ Well, I don’t see that this touches on the
murder,” said Beyne, tartly, as Markoe ceased
Speakin . “This don’t clear Conrad in the
least. 0 matter wh Knight came here it is
still my 0 inion that, onrad killed him. By his
own con ession he was walking alone b the
river the ni ht of the murder, and at the our.
Unless you ve more evidence I shall hang to
my risoner.” ° r

“ 0, you won’t,” retortpd Hendrickson.

“ Do you dare interfere?”

“ Yes.”

“Beware, sir! I will make it hot for you if
you run against the law.”

"Oh! you bet heavy on the law." do you?
Well, you shall have your fill of it. Let me in-
troduce more friends. ’

He strode to the door opened it. and three
more persons entered. ey were Hugh Ben-
marsh, his wife and their ch 1d. ‘

Beyne started to his feet and turned pale.
Ever since the adventure in his room when he
saw some one who looked like Hugh he had been
on nettles, and all his. eflerts to convince him-
self that it had been imngination had not served
to at his fears to rest. '

ow he was the most frightened man in Kan~
sas.
Hu h Benmarsh was in one of the stronger
Keri s of his variable illness; excitement and
ope had given him fictitious power; and he ad-
vanced a step and pointed an accusing finger at
the man who cowered before him.

“I see that you recognize me, Ralph Ed-
wards!” he said, in a deep voice. “and the
brand of guilt is on your face. Justice has
come home to you, even though you hide under
an assumed name.”

- “Stop! sto !” huskin exclaimed the startled
detective. “ on’t say anything, and—and I
will make it all right.”

“The law will make it all right!” Hugh re-
torted. “ False friend, criminal, forger, the
wrong shall be righted at last!” '

Pers iration stood on Boyne’s forehead in
great rope, and he looked the picture of de-

r.
spaIt was a mistake!” he cried. “I will con-
vince you that I am innoccnp”

“Innocent! Proof is overwhelming. Would
an innocent man have let another suffer? You
have run your race. Ralph Edwards and the
truth will now be known. It‘would have been
known long ago, but with the long run of evil
luck which has been mine since first you placed

 

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me in trouble, I fell under the ban of another
crime of which I was equally innocent. For
that crime I went to prisnn, served awhile, was
strangely rescued, hid in the strangest of places,
and only a day since was re-arrested. What
would have been my fate I don’t know, but at
the critical moment comes a telegram that the
real criminal has confess-(d and the officers have
released their claim on me. I am saved, not
onl in that respect, but from the false charge
lair upon me by your infamous conduct. But
you—you shall have your deserts. No lon er
shall you hide under a false name, but Justice
shall have its due.”

“ Just so.” coolwljy1 added Hendrickson. “ I ar-
rest you, Ralph wards, alias Bernard Boyne,
for forgery.” .

“ If it is done I will not sufler alone,” cried
the accused man, fiercely. “ Hugh Benmarsh, I
dare you to press this c arge. Do it, and your
father shall go to the gallows. Ay, Adam n-
marsh has confessed that he killed—murdered—
Shaffer Knight, and he suffers the extreme

null: if you molest me. Let me go free and
Yewill 'ecp his secret. Arrest me, and he hangs
for niurderl"

A wild, startled look had appeared on Hugh’s

face.

“Monster!” he cried, “you lie! You have
told a foul falsehood! I will choke the truth
from on!”

An he sprung forward and seized Boyne by
the throat.

CHAPTER XXXVIII.
A STORY or saanowsn LIVES.

Tm: attack had been made so suddenly that
Hendrickson could not prevent it, but be 0st no
time in averting serious consequences. He has-
tened to their side and separated the old ene-
mies before Boyne could return Hugh’s assault.
The latter stood panting in Hendrickson’s grasp
but upon a few whispered words was prevailed
upon to go to a seat, where his faithful wife hov-
ered tenderly over him.

“Let there be no y here,” said the de—
tective, quietly, for my drama is not half
acted. ,

As he spoke the door once more opened, and
Game Chicken, who had gone out a few mo-
ments before, in obedience to a signal from his
chief, returned, leading a woman by the hand.
He made a deep bow, and ceremoniously said:

“ Ladies an’ gents, Miss Floralice Heath!”

There was a quick cry from Eulalie, and some
who were there were 8 rised to see her and
Floralice rush to an em race which was as
Warm as it was unexpec .

Hendrickson looked coolly at Boyne.

“ Perhaps on know them both,” he said.
“ The are oralice and Eulalie Heath sisterS.
You new of them va cly in the old days, I
believe. There was auot er sister, Frances. Of
them 1 havea sto to tell, with a few words

 

thrown in about Bri ier Baldy and others.”
The two girls had n showering kisses upon
each other but, even though doe y moved,

Floralice did not lose her usual scaly-possession.
She suddenly turned to Hendrickson and, still
holding E e’s hand, bade him speak.
ammwwcwm

n a ver 11 (1
make my story as brief ugmgible. It is ’1; 22d
one for all concerned, bu there is 00d reason
to believe that the sun is now shi g through
the clouds.

“ Brigadier Baldy. though twice married,
neverhad but one c ild. This was a son, born
shortl after his first marriage, the boy’s name
bein ugh.

“ ll accounts agree that he was a. bright,
frank and honest boy but he was not Without a
spirit of mischief. Few boys are. All went
woll until the second Mrs. Benmarsh came;
a.er that, noth' went well. Her preCious
ofi'spriug, youn 1%ebber, was as mean, crafty
and contempti 19 then as in former years, and
he and Hugh soon fell out.

“The final result of their quarrels was that
Hugh begged to be sent awa to school, and as
the Old Br adier’s heart had u about broken
by the con uct of his new wife and Clarence
the nest was granted. He was short of
mono , ut be determined to economize in every
“’9' helphis boy along.

, Hugh, too made a resolution; be was deter-
mmed pay his way through schbol if possible.

9 mm a fine pcnman, and when once located he
looked about for a chance to turn his skill to
pecuniary advantage. His first attempts were
110‘ Vel‘y Successful. but his second year at
school found hun regularly employed as a copy-
ist at fair pay.

“The many rebuffs he had at amines with
had. 10d ‘0 hls BWing an assumed name when ap-
Pll’mg‘ f0? “ Chanel“. and before be fairly real-
ized t 0 fact he found himself known to quite a
circle of acquaintances as ‘ 13m Brooks} He
would probably have a [tuned the matter to
momflmt he had made a inmnce of a
Eungman of his own age, w use name was

wards, and the latter’s persuasion caused him

     

6

wards was a gay young man about town,

,\ and it was through him that young Benmarsh

l

 

made certain acquaintances which were destined
to color his whole life.

“ Among them was Frances Heath, who fell
desperately in love with him. He admired her
for a time, but was just discovering that she

had a fierce, revengeful nature when, through 1

Edwards, he was introduced to a young actress,
who at once won his heart, and caused him to
for et Frances entirely.

“ he actress he knew onligy her stage name,
and it was not until they become engaged
that he learned that she was Frances Heath’s
sister, Eulalie.

man who was as stern, harsh and proud as he
was poor. He had bitterly resented Eulalie’s
engagement on the stage, and when the girl was
asked by the r young student to become his
wife she dar not tell her father.

“He expected her to ma a rich man, and
would never forgive a secon transgression of
his wishes. The result was a secret marriage. I
will not comment on the wisdom, or lack of it,
shown by Hugh and Eulalie; enough to say that
they were married.

“ Even the bride’s sisters did not su t that
she had become a wife. To her Hugh ad duti-
fully revealed his real name, but it was still kept
secret from Frances and Flomlice, the latter of
whom seldom saw young ‘ Brooks.’

“ Perhaps all would have ended well had not
our student‘s friend, Edwards, proved himself a
consummate scoundrel. This is how he proved
it: One evening he prevailed upon Benmarsh to
drink champagne. The young man was not
used to it; it flew to his head.

“ Then Edwards bantered him about his skill
as a penman, expressed doubt and aftcra proper
degree of preparation got ugh to imitate the
signatures of a dozen prominent men. All were
written on common aper but one. When that
was to be written wards_tossed over a blank

check and said:

“ ‘Sign this time on that. I’ll fill it out with
half a dozen ciphers and have a joke on the
boys.’

You must remember that Hugh was a mere
boy and that the wine was working in his head.
He si nod. .

“ e thought no more about the matter for
several days. Then the city with the news
of a daring forgery. Edwards ad sprung his
trap and secured the mono . He had run away
an left Hugh to bear the lame, and the police
had a clew—‘ Byron Brooks " was wanted.

“The poor boy was utterly overwhelmed, but
he made no efforts at first to escape. He would
bear the punishment—he knew that his explana-
tion of the affair would not be believed in any
court. Then he thou ht of Eulalie and deter-
mined to make one e ort for life. He fled, tak-
ing her with him.

‘ Before he went he wrote to the Old Briga-
dier tellin .fhe whole story and asserting his in-
nocence all wron intentions, but dwelling so
upon the disgrace w ich he had brought upon
his father that it was plain to be seen what he
thou ht of most.

“ t was a terrible blow to the Old B ' er.
He never doubted his boy’s innocence, is all
the plans he had formed for the boy’s future had
gone to ruin at one blow, and his virago wife’s

taunts out like poisoned barbs.
“ Eulalie’s father was furious. His daughter
had fled with A FORGEB! It almost stunned the

man who in poverty and lowlinesa was as proud
as the average prince, and he soon went the way
of all earth.

“ He left one behind who could hate as bitter-
ly as he—Frances. She did not care for the dis-
grace on the family name but the fact that her

ove had been so li htl cast aside, as she
thought, and that Eula is had won the prize, al-
most maddened her.

“ She vowed raven on them both as th b
they had done anyt ing for which she cou d
blame them. .

“ Neither she nor Floralice were much at home
after their father’s death—the place being cared
for by an aunt—but both were there when, af-
ter a year,'Eulalie returned, pale, sad, almost
broken-hearted. She told a sad story. They
had been living in another city, and her hus-
band had mysteriously disappeared. She feared
foul play. The sisters believed he had deliber-
ately deserted his young wife, or so the said.
Floralice was sincere. What of Frances

“ She never forgave Eulalie for innocently
winning H h away from her and her bot tom-
per sugg revenge. Proud as the father of
the family had-been, he had once committed a
worse mistake in marri than to wed poverty.
Twice married, his first c ice had been a Gypsy
girl; a Wild young creature who ran away at
the end of a year and left him Frances, a more
babe as the onl palpable recollection of her.

“Frances ha all her mother’s temper, and
she determined to be revenged on Eulalle and
Hugh. And though her sister did notsuspect
it, Frances was raponsible for Hugh‘s disap-
pearance. Evan when Eulalic had come home
as before stated. she was not content.

She wrote
a note to Eulalie, f ng Hugh’s hand and sign-
ing his humor in whi she asserted that Eulalie’s

  

marriage was not legal. ,
“Bu she oveniid the matter that time; the

    

 

horror-stricken younger sister fled the house and:

‘it was long before Frances saw her again.

“In the meanwhile, what had she done with:
Hugh? 1 will briefly tell. Her agents kidnap-
ped him; he was till-zen to a distant city and

eld prisoner until his jailer pretended to relent..
He gave Hugh a check, which the latter \\ as to.-

et cashed, to get money to go baci: in Eulalim
he check was a forgery; he was arrested. tried
and sentenced to prison.

“ There he gave the name of Allen Gray. tie--
termined to serve his time and not let his real h

; name be disgraced. His time was nearly up—a
“The father of the girls was then living—a ‘

very short sentence. thanks to a merciful judge
-—when Frances rescued him from prison, as~
some of you already know. She had as an ally
a man named Sam Sloane, who waited outside
to do her bidding.

“ They first pretended to drown Hugh in the
river, and nearly did so, to ‘ frighten him, as
they called it, and then delivered him over to
the keepers of a private asylum for the insane.

“ It was thought that this would prove a.
living grave, but by some wonder Hugh at once“
won a hold on the head of the doctor—not on
his heart, for he had noneb-and was made a
high'lly-honored em loyee.

“ o bind him to is service more closely, the
doctor searched for and found Eulalie, who had;
been supporting herself by hard work after flee-~
ing from the 01 home; and she and their child
went to the asylum.

“ The year that followed was peaceful and
happy to them. despitctheir surroundings. Then.
the lam was burned, and Hugh bare y saved
his wife and child, all three escaping by walking
on the window caps, and then descending the-

ape. They were separated in the crowd,
and did not come together again until they met?
at Buck Basin.

“ The principal cause of this was that ths~
oflicials of the prison from which Hu h had beeu'
released by Frances, alias Horace mes, were
again on his track. They hunted him hotly,
and finall arrested him here, and it would have
gone hart? with him had not word come by telew-
gra h that they could release their prey. The
real criminal had been discovered.

“ Hugh Benmarsh stands to-day without a.
cloud on his re utation, and for the first time he~
is situated so t he can unish the author of
his first trouble. Ralph wards-Boyne, as I
said before, on are arrested for forgery !”

Boyne had been gathering courage, and a cold.
sneer now passed over his face. ,

“ As I said before. I’ll make it hot for those.
who molest me. Let Hugh Benmarsh prosecute
at his peril. I hold the life of his father in the ~.»
hollow of my hand. The Old Brigadier, as you:
call him, is the murderer of Shaffer ht. He,
goes to the gallows if I am prosecuted. swear
it!’

“ We will now discus that point,” Hendrick»

son coolly said. “ Game Chicken, will you bring"
the Bri ier in?” ‘  » '
“He confessed toboth me and Pray, and ' ~  I

no lie  gossip him,” Boyifie declaradthg‘lt’sx- - f
libertyr or t oraprison ormean gal- -
lows or him!” 7

CHAPTER XXXIX.
IN wmcn THE RECORD (moans.
Hanmucxsos smiled slightly.

“ At all events, we will have Brigadier Baldy
in ” he answered. coolly. ,
Hugh looked very anxious, but faithful Eula-
lie clung to his hand, and Floralice stood at
their side and seemed a protector for both.
Game Chicken had gone out, and they were not
long hast waiting. He returned accom
by the ld Brigadier and Ebenezer Pray.

Brigadier was as calm and
ever. His eyes beamed kind y on flu in and his: ‘
loved ones, but beyond a general nod
no one. ' I

Before even Hendrickson could speak the door .

was unceremoniously thrown open and Mra'  V
face: ~ 
usher ‘

Benmmsh dashed into the room, her
fluséled and her eyes darting figurative
of re.

“Where’s my dear boy?” she cried.

“Tb x 1',
say he has been wounded. and if he has, I’ll  ‘  

the man who did it. Who dared harm my poor, '.
innocant, kind-hearted Clarryi He’s like a mb
led to the slaughter!” ,

She had swooped down upon Clarence and a
was fondling him as though he had been a baby-
She was an uninvited witness, but Hendrickson
81th quietly. He was not sorry to see her-

re.

“ Now. Boyne.” Hendrickson resumed, “ We’ll
see what Weight on carry. You say Adam
Benmarsh killed 8 offer Knight.”

“ He has confessed it.” i , ‘
was; is only too true,” the Old Brigadier 

" Will you kindly give me this story in full?” - ,

“I”objectl" cried Boyne. “He is my pria-= 
oner. '\ .
“ And on are mine!” Hendfichon Mortal.
“Monet this,’you willheailgnt'ci'l‘rhall'
force you tobeso. . 5..  ' _ .h‘

Boyne looked as though he  ‘
done his fellow detective, ham,
were him 

   

The latter looked worried and angry but the ‘7 
aceful of face as 

 

     

  
  

 

f, v “ His whole theor

E“ ' 've the facts in regard to S

’.  1 ti tand
i“  ‘$Whileill)1

" .‘ agreed to writes. chec

his chair. and Brigadier Baldy gave a simple,
concise account of that night when Shaffer
Knight had fallen into the Arrow River. He at-
tempted no more extenuation than when his
conscience had been his only listener, and iro-
‘ claimed himself Knight’s slayer because he ad
not promptly answered the agent’s cries for
he]

ugh Junkcd dumfounded at this confession.
but befo o he could utter the vehement assertion
that this in no way constituted murder, Hon—
drickson followed the Brigadier as speaker:

“ I have a few words to say here. As most of

on now knowI am a detective, and though

ere on an utterly different mission, I at once
became inter .‘sted in the Knight tragedy when
the body was found, or, rather, after I returned
to Buck Basin.

“Certain facts at once attracted niy atten-
tion, chief among which was that everybody
here was so in fear of Ebenezer Pray that they
had no opinions of their own. There were
other facts which showed Pra to be most ro-

 “ markably stupid. He had l‘USICd to the con-
»;7" clusion that Knight had been murdered and

thrown in the river, and his body then washed

5 . ashore at the point Where it was found.

was a bubble which any

intelli out man oug t to have pricked. At that
int rrow River flows almost sluggishly, yet

 A e body was high and dry two feet from the
  ' water. When i

learned this, I knew it had
never been cast u by the river. Pray had also
at ed that Kni t died the night that he came
togBluck Basin, ut the condition of the body
when found conclusively proved that death must
have come at a. much later time.

“ Perhaflps you think I am advancin evidence
that con icts with what Brigadier aldy has
said. You shall hear in the st. uel' I will now
aifer Knight‘s

oath.

“ The man could not swim, and when he fell
, , into the river through his own hot-tempered ef-

i ,, forts he was very much frightened and began
’ .. , 9 to call for hails. Luekil , the abutments of the

‘ = bridge crea a sluggis surface at points, and
there, even now, you, may see floating matter,
‘from leaves up to boards, which is he (I tempo-
rarily and, occasionally, sent away again.

i _, “Shaffer Knight chanced to la hold of one

of these objects—a dry log—an it ke t him

from drowning. He was so frighten , how-

ever, that he could not call for help any fur-
:. ther and then drifted down the river.

 , “It was not until he had passed the villa e

"s “that he ained courage to try and make t e

'l bank. V hen he did try he succeeded, and he

' ' dr pod hel less to the earth, overcome with

‘f 0% ysical weakness.
this condition he was found by a
, certain man of the village who took him to his
_ 'house. When Kni ht recovered somewhat he
_ wanted to go on. ow his temporary host had

I been bled unmercifully by the agent, and, being

. of a revengeful nature, be determined to get

square with him. Instead of letting him go, he

*‘ j, ova Wered and made him a prisoner.

' - ' “'3? the next morning he was cooler. He had

i . trasth taken an elephant upon his hands. What

a was he to do with him? Result. he sent for a

a , friend, and they decided to hold Knight until he
v I. ' ' 'd a. ransom of a. thousand dollars, and then

 o the money and flee. Knight, however,

‘ stoutlly refused.
 r “T at night they ur ed him again, and be
for one thousand dol-
lars. They released his hands. When this was
' . done he suddenly attacked them furiously, and
~ a" desperate fight followed. When it was over
a  ‘ Shaffer Knight lay dead at their feet; a chance
', t; I. {blow had instantly killed him.
- v.1, “ Whether they were dismayed I don’t know,
 but t were certainly afraid of detection.
7 ," ‘Tbey he d a. consultation, and, as a result. the
{I I "body was borne to the river and left on the
 to give the idea of accidental death by
drowning. This is how Knight met his fa .”
Momentarye silence followed hislast words.
‘ . Then Hugh nniarsh eagerly demanded:
,* ' , ’ “Can you rove this?”
L ‘f’  “I can,” endrickson serene] replied. “ One
1’, of the sin ers has confessed. e sits there; his
'Mme is ‘larence Webbcr I”
A wild cry rung out in the room, and Mrs.
aBenmarsh shook her flst franticall in the air.
“No, no!” she cried, “it is a lei My poor,
innocent boy would never harm any one!
, How (1 you insult my Clarry? I’ll have the
‘law of ou—”
' Hendrickson made amotionto Game Chicken,
who promptly took the excited woman from
*1 ~ the room. They did not intend to be harsh
with her, Virago that she was, but she could not
be allowed to rave when more important things
were to be said.
Webher sat with drooping head, utterl
‘ crushed. Even Brian Mar oe was astonisha.
‘ He had wondered at Clarence’s sudden with-
drawal from active warfare against Evan Con-
, rad, but had never suspected the cause.
“A few days a 0.” added Hendrickson.

‘ “Webber kidna Floralice Heath and put

91 in charge 0 Hagar Lee and her tribe. I
t ' ,rcscued her. They laid a trapto murder me,
V, , but it went wrong, and Webber and Nat Lee

Old Baldy.

 

 

 

did some shooting at each other by accident. I
was fleeing from the place, but, meeting my al-
lies, Game Chicken and Nick, outside, went
back and learned the truth.

“ I found both des rately wounded. Lee
lies at the cave but i is doubtful if even his
mother can pull him through. \Vebber I
have brought here, but he says himself that his
wound is fatal. I believe it is.”

Not a. word said Clarence; he sat with droop-
in head, helpless and he less.

endrickson turned to rigadier Baldy.

“ I have been gathering up threads of this
case, and though I could prove nothing until
W'ebber confessed, I can corroborate him in
many ways. Adam Benmarsh, there is no stain
on your record. You are as free from crime as
an man here. I congratulate you!”

here were others to congratulate him, too,
and Hugh, in particular was overjoyed. His
father, as well as himself, was cleared from
every cloud. The Old Brigadier’s face had never
looked more noble, but his gratitude was mixed
with an emotion peculiar to his great heart.

He thanked Heaven for his release from the
shadow of guilt, but. evil as Clarence VVebber
had been, he deeply pitied the young man.

Suddenly the door was opened and Game
Chicken appeared.

“ There’s a young female hyar who—-”

He had spoken no further when he was thrust
aside and Leah Lee stood in the room, her great
dark eyes flashing and her cheeks alglow.

“So you areall here!” she crie( , in a bi h
hard voice. “ By the master I serve, I am girl
to see you. Bernard Boyne, you are a detective.
I command you to arrest that vile woman!”

She pointed to Floralice.

“Upon what charge?” promptly demanded
Hendrickson.

“ She set fire to Doctor Leibsou’s insane
as lum and nearly destroyed scores of people.
A a! my fine ladgyou shall not escape Justice.
I suppose I shall arrested, but I came here
from the cave to unmask you, and I’ll do it.
You shall suffer, too; I care not what becomes
of myself.”

“ The last part is all ri ht,” said Hendrickson,
nonchalantly, “ but as or the fire, I have a
letter from
discovered its source to be purely accidental.”

“It is false!” cried the dusky-faced girl, wild-
ly. “ You know it is false! You would lie
blindly for her now, as you did befothJ’

“ Be silent, Frances Heath! Your day is
past, and you may as well accept your defeat
gracefully. Look at the sisters you have
wronged so bitterly, and wonder that they have
told me you can go unpunished. Is it not so,
Floralice and Eulaliei”

Both answered in the affirmative, but neither
looked at her. They could not bear the sight.

“ Young woman,” added Game Chicken,
“ you may suspect you ain’t wanted hyar.
Ther sooner you sample ther walkin’ on ther
road which leads from Buck Basin, ther better
’twill be.”

And he took her arm and led her out, before
she could recover her presence of mind.

“The sky clears,” said Hendrickson, “and I
think nobody need fear future trouble from this
case who deserves happiness. You, Evan Con-
rad, are free to go to your wife. Brigadier
Bald , there has been a heav weight upon your
min , but it is removed. on can go among
your fellow-men now, knowing that no one can
criticise or blame you, and that you have the

res of all our fellow-men.”
he Old B dier turned gave one hand to
En h and lai theother on Hulalie’s head.

‘5

thahk heaven,” he said, in a. trembling
voice, “that it is so. I would not have these
dear ones troubled by having a criminal
father!”

Even in that,supremo moment, his thoughts
were of others than himself.

A brighter day dawned on Buck Basin. It
was soon shown that Sinclair Rhodes had been
ignorant of his agents' misdeeds;‘that they had
been grinding the tenants to enrich them-
selves, not him; and he did justice to all. The
tenants were iven a chance on the land of
which the co (1 not complain, while Ebenezer
Pra wen to prison as a reward for his em-
be ement.

“Bernard Boyne”ke t him company, being
tried and Sentenced for t 0 old forge . .

Brian Markos found it convenient hurried-
ly leave Buck Basin, and Tom Sowders, who

brought Fioralice news of Eulalie too late. ac- ;

cepted a. small reward and faded from sight.
inls detective work had not been very success-
u .
It was not known for some time whether Nat
Lee lived or died, as the Gypsy family suddenly
disa ed. A year later they warn heard of
in isconsin. and all were alive. They were
really distant relatives of Leah—or, rather,
Frances Heath—and had been paid to serve her,
and help along her schemes, when she partially
disguised herself and assumed the role of a

l

l

l

 

l

 

!

Doctor Leibson which says he had ‘ became Mrs. Heudrickson.

 

i

‘
l

Gypsy. Not for the sake of the blood-tie, for ‘
they ad

barely known her mother, but for her
money had they aided her. and when her power
ceased the dusky peoyle went their way.

I

r i

, whether Hugh was worthy or evil, allowed ti 0

Frances promptly entered a convent and is
dead to the. world. Whether she repented those
who knew her do not retend to say.

“'hen she rescued Eiiigh from prison to wreak
further vengeance on him, he at first mistook
her for Floralice, and. calling the latter name,
put Hendrickson on a false trail.

As for the contradictory secne at the asylum,
when Frances placed lillll there she had said that
Floralice was the prime iiiowi' in the work. The
latter knew this, and as she really did not know

 

 

falsehood to stand. As for him, after Doctor
Leibson took a fancy to him, employed him
and gave shelter to him, his wife and child, he
had a part to play; and the rags he women that
eventful occasion were assumed to carry out the
im sture on his supposed cnein .

ne of the Slayers of Shaffer Knight was
given} long sentence for the crime. It was a
man unknown to this chronicle. Clarence
“'ebber was never tried, for he died of the
wound inflicted by Nat Lee. His mother railed
at everybody for a few days, and then to the re-
lief of all fled from those who had known her.

It was a blessing to Brigadier Baldy. The
last cloud was gone from his life, and in the
happy home made by Hugh the veteran is su-
premely happy. All of the household are happy.
t seems to t em that fate showers on them its
choicest blessin .. Freed from every shadow
Hugh works wit a will and is rapidly becoming
comfortably rich, and Eulalie and their boy are
treasures in his eyes.

And all love the Old Brigadier. Not one who Ll
knows him but will declare him the noblest of
men, and he advances toward the sunset of his
life with a heart which daily blesses Providence , ,, ,
for his great good-fortune, even as otheis bless
him for his wonderful tenderness and honor.

Elvan Conrad is a nei hbor, and he and Ed-
wina are prosperous. i o shadow of the old
trouble remains. Among Conrad’s emplo ees, at 1-"
present, are Game Chicken and the b0 , ick. :

After clearing up all mysteries Edygar Hen- L
drickson only remained in Buck Basin to hunt
down and arrest the men who once tried to
l nch him. Then he went East. but before his

eparture there was a wedding and Floralicc
Convinced that she
had committed no crime, he was willing she
should possess a will of her own. He has never
re tted his choice.

nd thus the curtain falls.

THE END.

a. mmwgm‘-.4.'.wa

 

O
._.. Luv

 

 

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Dialogues No. Fifteen. Dialogues No. Thirty-two.

Dialogues No. Sixteen. Dialogues N o. Thirty-three.

Dialogues No.8eventeen

15 to 25 Dialogues and Dramas in each book.

 

Lives of Great Americans.

 

l.—George Washington. VIII—Israel Putnam. 1 
Ila—John Paul Jones. x,_.'recumseh_ 
lll.——Mad AnthonyWayne XI,-Abraham Lincoln,
IV.-—Ethan Allen. JUL—Pontiac.

V.-—Marquisde Lafayette XML—Ulysses S. Grant.

WThe above books are sold by newsdeolerl
everywhere, or will be sent. post-paid, to any ad-
dress. on receipt of price, ten cents each. Blunux
AND Aunts, Publishers. 98 William st" N. Y

 

w 1.; .._._M..Mwa~.unlg;%-—m .__1

~ —-,~. 0”va

. 1.,rrm..amww~.‘n .. -v~

 

‘79 Joe Phenix, the P01

.82 ron Wrist. the Swordmaster.

' 99 The Giant

 

 

 mo iflfil‘féiilfi 'l‘I__J‘_M‘lffi;Eli-_Tr_lfilfilfl slit;—

 

40 The Long Haired “ Pards ;” or, The  108 The Dukcoi'DianIonds; or. The Flower

Tart-11's ot' the Plains. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

4 1 Gold Dan ; or. The White Savage of the Great
Salt Lake. By Albert W. Aiken.

4 2 The California Detective; or. The Witches
of New York. By Albert W. Aiken.

43 Dakota Dan the Reckless Ranger; or. Tlle
Bee-llllntz-rs’ Excursion. B Oll Coonles. '

44 Old Dun llackback,t le Great Extarmlna-
tor; or. The 'I‘riangle‘s Last Trail. 011 Coonles.

45 Old Bull’s Ego the Lightning Shot of the
Plains. B Jos. . Badger, Jr.

46 Botvie- nli'c Ben, the Little Hunter of the
Nor’-Wcst. By 011 Coonles.

47 Paciiic Pete, the Prince of the Revolver. By
Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

48 ldah 0 Tom, the Young Outlaw of Silverland;
or, the Hunters of the Wild West. By Oil Coomes.

49 The “'oli' Dclnon. By Albert W. Aiken.

50 Jack Rabbit, the Prairie Sport. By Jos.
E. Badger. Jr.
51 Bed llob, the Boy Road-Agent. By 011

Coonles.

52 Death Trailer. the Chief of Scouts; or. Life
and Love in a Frontier Fort. By Bufialo Bill.

53 Silver Sani' or, The Mystery of Deadwood
City. By Col. Belle Sam.

54 Always On "and. By Philip S. Warne.

55 The Scalp llunters. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

56 The Ind an Maze pa; or. The Madman
of the Plains. By A. \ .Aiken.

57 The Silent Hunter' or, The Scowl Hall
M stery. ByPercy B. St. John.

58 S lver Knii‘c; or, \\lckllfl'e, The Rocky
Mountain Ranger. By Dr. J. H. Roblnson.

59 The Man From Texas; or, The Outlaws
of Arkansas. By A. W. Aiken.

60 “’idc Awake the Robber King; or, The
Idiot of the Black Hills. By Frank Dumont.

61 Captain Seawall, the Privateer. By Ned
Bulltline.

62 Lo al “cart; or, The TrappersofArkansas.
B ustave Aimard.

63 he \Vingcd Whale. By; A. W. Aiken.
64 Double-gight, the Death S or or, The Out-
law of the haparral. By Jos. B. Badger. Jr.
65, The Red Rajah' or, The Scourge of the

Indies. By Capt. r. Whittaker.

'66 The S ecter Bar ue. B Ma eBeld.
“ misting

oy Jocke . By er Jr.

68 The Fighting rapper or. Kit
to the Rescue. By Captain J. . C. Adams.

69 The Irish Ca tain. B Capt. F.Whittaker.

70 Hydrabad, t e Strang er; 0:, Alethe, the
Child of the Cord. By Dr. J. H. Robinson.

71 Ca tain Cool-Blade; or, The Man-Shark
of t e Mississippi. By Jos. E. Badger. J r.

72 The Phantom Hand' or, The Heiress of
Fifth Avenue. By A. W. Ai en.

73 The Knights of the Red Cross; or, The
Magician of Granada. B Dr. J. H. Robinson.

74 The Ca tain of the ifles; or, The Queen

_ of the La es. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

7:) Gentleman George. By A. W. Aiken.

76 The Queen’s Musketeers; or. Thisbe. the
Princl-ss Palmlst. By George Albany.

77 The Fresh 01' Frisco. By A. W. Aiken.

78 The Mysterious Spy. By A. M. Grainger.

ce Sny. B A.W. Aiken.
80 A Man of Nerve. By Philip . Wame.

-81 The Human Tiger; or, A Heart of Fire.

Albert W. Aiken.
Thomas Ho er M

'84 Hunted Down or, The Legs“
85 lizaAlbe‘rt w. Alina? ° °‘ Tm”
1e ,vre an over or. Zul
Beautiful. By 001. Prentids Ingrahmfim' the
86 The Big Hunter; or. The up“; of the
Woods. By the author of “ The Si ent Hunter."
87 The Scarlet Captain ' or, The Prisoner of
the Tower. By Col. Delle re.

.88 Big George, the Giant of the Gulch; or. The

Five Outlaw Brothers. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
89 The Pirate Prince. By (,ol. P. I rahsm.
90 Wild Will, the Mad Ranchero; or. he Ter-
rible Texans. By Buckskin Sam.
91 The “’lnning Osr; or. The Innkeeper’s
Daughter. gy Albert W. Aiken.
92 1111111110 ill, the Buckskin King; or. The
Amazon of the West. By Ms . Dangerfield Burl-r
93 Ca taiu Dick Talbot, ' g of the Road;
or. he Black-Hoods of Shasta. By A. W. Aiken.

‘94 Freelance, the Buccaneer; or. The Wait 0!

the Wave. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

'95 Azhort, the Axman; or. The Secrets of the

Ducal Palace By Anthony P. Morris.
96 Double-Death ; or. The Spy Queen of Wyo—
mlng. By Capt. Fred. Whitta er.
97 Bronze Jack, the California Thoroughbred.
B Albert W. Aiken.
98 he Rock Rider; or, The Spirit of the
Sierra. By Ca t. Frederick Whittaker.
ifleman. By 01] Coomes.
100 The French Spy;/or, The Bride of Paris.
fiyhAnthony P. Morris.
101 ' e Man From New York; or. The Ro-
mance of a Rich Young Woman. B Aiken.
102 The Masked Band or. The an With-
out a Name. By George . Aiken.
103 Merle, the Mutlneer; or.Tne Brand of
the Red Anchor. B Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
104 Ivlontczunla, t e Merciless‘ or. The
Eagle and thl'Serpent. By Col P. ingrahnm.
105 Dan Brown oi Denver the Rocky Moun-
tajn Detective. By Joseph’E. Bad rer. Jr.
106 Shainus O’ Brien, the Bould
gal. By Col. Delle Sara.
107 Richard Talbot 01‘ Cinnabar; or. The
Brothers ofthe Red Hand. By A. W. Aiken.

0y of Glin-

By Colonel‘
:83 Gold Bu et Sport. 'By Buffalo Bill.

 

of Calcutta. By Captain Frederick Whittaker.

109 (‘a itain Kyd, the King of the Black Flag.
B ‘01. Prentiss lngrallaln.

1 10 'lyhe Silent fliilcman. By H. W. Herbert.

111 The SrnugI-‘ier Ca itain; or. The Skip-

er’s Crime. y Ned untline.

1 12 1.100 Phenix Private Detective' or. The

League. of the Skeleton Key‘s. B A. W. Aiken.

113 The Sea Slip or or. he mateur Free-
booters. By Pro . J. 11. Ingraham.

1 14 The Gentleman From_ Pike; or. The
Ghost of the Canyon. By Phlll S. Warne.

1 15 The. Severed Head; or. he Secret of
Castle Coucy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

116 Black Plume, the Devil of the Sea. By
Col. Prentiss Ingrallam. .

1 l 7 Dashing) Dandy the Hotspur of the Hills.
By Major angerfie d Burr.

118 The Burglar Captain; or, The Fallen
Star. By Prof. J. H. Ingrahanl.

119 Alabama Joe; or, The Yazoo Man-Hun—
ters. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

120 The Texan Spy; or. The Prairie Guide.
By Newton M. Curtis.

121 The Sea Cadet; or. The Rover of the Rigo-
letts. By 001. Prentiss Ingraham.

1 22 Saul Sabberday the Idiot Spy: 0r, Luliona.
the Seminole. By N’ed Buntline.

123 Alapaha, the S uaw ; or. The Renegades
of the Border. By rancis Johnson.

124 Assowaum, the A enger; or. The
Doom of the Destroyers. y Francis Johnson.

125 The Blacksmith Outlaw; or. Merry
England. By Harrison Ainsworth.

126 The Demon Duelist; or. The League of
Steel. By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery. ‘

127 S01 Scott, the Mask (1 Miner; or, Dan
Brown‘s Double. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

128 The Chevalier Corsair. By the author
of “Merle the Mutineer.”

1 29 Blississigli Mose ' or, A Strong Man‘s
Sacrifice. y Edward Willett.

1 30 Captain Volcano ' or, The Man of the Red
Revolvers. By A. W. Aiken.

1 3 l Buckskin Sam, the Texas Trailer; or, The
Bandits of the. Bravo. By Col. 1'. Ingrahaln.

132. Nemo. King oi‘the Tramps. By Capt.
Frederick Whittaker.

133 Body the flavor the Ribbonman of Ire-
land. By William Carleton.

1 34 Dorkie Dan, the Colored Detective; or, The
Mississippi Mystery. By Col. P. Ingraham.

1 35 The Bush Banger' or, The Half-Breed
Brigade. By Francis Jo nson.

1 36 The Outlaw-Hunter; or, Red John. the

Bush Ranger. By Francis Johnson.
137 Long Beard, the Giant Spy. By 011
Coomes.

1 38 The Border Bandits ' or. The Horse-
Thief's Trail. By Francis Jo lllson.

139 Fire-Eye. the Sea Hyena: or. The Bride of
a Buccaneer. By Col. Prentiss Ill'rraham.

140 The Three Spaniards. Bv  Walker.

141 Equinox Tom, the Bully of Red Rock; or,
Dan Brown’s Masterstroke. By Joseph. E.
Badger. Jr.

142 Captain Crilnson, the Man of the Iron
Face. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr.

143 The Czar’s Spy; or, The Nihilist League.
By COLT. H. Monstery.

144 The Hunchback of Notre-Dame.

Victor Hugo.

145 istol Pard ° or, Soft Hand, the Silent
S ort from Cinnabar. By Wm. R. Eyster.

146 The Doctor Detective; or, The Mystery
of the Golden Coffin. By Geo e Lemue .

147 Gold Spur the Gentleman rom Texas. By
Col. Prentiss ingraham.

148 One-Armed Ali‘ the Giant Hunter of the
Great Lakes. B oil Coomes. _

149 The Border iilcs. By Gustave Almard.

1 50 El Bubio Bravo, King of the Swordsmen.
139 Col. Thomas HoyerMonstery.

151 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard.
152 Captain Ironncrve, the Counterfeiter
hiet. B Marmaduke Dev. .

l 53 The W ite Seal or. By Gustave Almard.

154 Joaquin, the die King. By Joseph E.
Badger. r.

155 The Corsair noon; or. The Gipsies of
the Sea. By Col. ntiss In ham. .

156 Velvet Face, the Border ravo; 01‘. Muriel.
the Danite's Bride. By Dangerfield Burr.

157 Mourad, the Mameluke; or. The Three
Swordmasters. By 001. Thomas H. Monstery.

158 The Doomed Dozen; or. Dolores. the
Danlte‘s Daughter. By Dr. Frank Powell.

159 Bed Rudiger, the Archer or The Lady
Bertha‘s Treachery. By Ca t. . Whittaker.

1 60 801! Hand, Sharp ' orfi'he Man With the
Sand. B Wm. R. Ey r.

161 The. oives or New Yorl‘tv; 0". J06
Phenlx’s Great Man Hunt. By A. . Aiken.

162 The Mad Mariner' or. Dishonored and
Disowned. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

163 Ben Brion, the TrapBer 03min: or. RHI-

ath. the Avenger. By 1'. J. . Robinson.

164 he King’s Fool ' or. The Knights of the
Clasped Hands and net Branch. By c. D.Clark.

1 65 Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

1 66 Owlet, the Roliber Prince; or. The Unknown
Highwa man. By Suptimus R. Urban. .

167 The an ol‘Steel; or, The Masked Knight
01' the. White Plume. By A. P. Morris.

168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot: or. Dagger
Don's Double. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

1 69 Corporal Caution. the Man of Forty Duels.
By Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

170 Sweet \I’llliam, the Trapper Detective.
By Jos. E. Badger. J r:

i 220 The Specter

 

m“,

17 1 Tiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or,
The Dumb Ba silt. By Philip S. Warne.
172 The Black Pirate; or. The Mystery of
the Goll 'en Feltcrs. By Col. P. Ingraham.
173 California John, the Pacific Thorough-
llrell' By Albert W. Aiken.
By Capt. F.

174 The Phantom Knights.
Whittaker.

1 75 \"ild Bill‘s Trunlp Card; or. The Indian
Heiress. By Major Dangerfield Burr.

1 76 Lad 3' Jaguar, the Robber Queen. By Cap-
tain Mark Wilton.

1 77 Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair; or, The
Rivals of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

178 Dark Dashwood. the Drsperate; or, The
Child of the Sun. By Major Saul S. Hall.

1 79 Conrad. the Convict; or. Was He Guilty?
By Prof. Stewart Gildersleeve, LL. 1).

180 Old ’49; or. The Amazon of Arizona. By
Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

l81 The Scarlet Schooner; or. The Nemesis
of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingrallam

1 82 Hands U ; or. The Knights of the Canyon.
By Wm. R. yster.

183 Gilbert, the Guide; or. Lost in the Wil-
derness. By C. Dunning Clark.

184 The Ocean "am ire; or, The Heiress of
Castle Curse. B ' Co . Prentiss lngraham.

i 85 The Man S 1 er; or, The Beautiful Sphinx.
By Anthony . Moms.

186 The Black Bravo; or. The Tonkaway’s
Trium h. B Buckskin Sam.

1 87 The eat 1’s Head Cuirasslers; or,
Brave of all Braves. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

188 The Phantom Mazeppa; or. The H can
of the Cha arrals. By Maj. Dangerfield .

1 89 \Vlld Bi l’s Gold Trail; or. The Desper-
ado Dozen. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

190 The Three Guardsmen. By Alexandre

umas. -

191 The Terrible Tonkawa ‘ or,Old Rocky
and His Pards. By Buckskinysim.

192 The Lightning Sport. By W. R. Eyster.

193 The Man in Red. B Capt. F. Whittaker.

194 Don Sombrero,ihe alifornia Road Gent.
By Capt. Mark Wilton.

195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, The Maid
of the Magnolias. By Buckskin Sam.

196 La Marmosct the Detective Queen- 01-,
The Lost Heir of Morel. By Albert W. Aiken.

197 Revolver Bob, the Red-Handed; or. The
Belle of Nugget Camp. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

198 The Skeleton Schooner; or. The Skim-
mer oi the Sea. B Col Prentiss Ingraham.

199 Diamond Dic , the Dandy from Denver.
B Buckskin Sam.

200 he Rifle Ban on. ByCapt. MavneReid.

201 The Pirate oft 1c Pincers; or. oaquin’s
Death Hunt. By Joseph E. B er, Jr.

202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Gu de. 'By Capv
tain Mark Wilton.

203 The Double Detective. By A. W. Aiken.

204 Big Foot Wallace, the Kin of the Lariat;
or \‘ild Wolf. the Waco. B uckskin Sam.

205 T e Gambler Pirate. y Col. Ingraham.

206 One Eye, the Cannoneer; or. Marshal Ney’s
Last Legac . By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

207 Old liar Read. By Philip S. Warne.

208 The White Chief. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

209 Buck Farley the Bonanza Prince' or. The
Romance of Death Gulch. By Edward Willett.

210 Buccaneer Bess, the Lioness of the Sea;
or, The Red Sea Trail. By 001. P. Ingraham.

211 Colonel Plun er or. The Unknown Sport."
Bv Capt. Frederic ittaker.

212 The Brazos Tigers. By Buckskin Sam.
213 The ar Trail. y Ca t. Mayne Reid.
21 4 The wo Cool S orts. y Wm. B. Eyster.

215 Parson Jim, nit of the Cowboys. I By
tain Frederick Whittaker.
216 T e Corsair Planter; or, Driven to
Doom. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.
217 The Serpent of El Paso; or. Fronti-r
Frank. the Scout of the Rio Grande. By Buck—

skin . .
218 The Wild Huntrcss; or, The Big Squat.

219 The Sc

ter's Ven nce. By Ca .Ma neReid.
3-111“ Brotrltc y
Mission.

By Ca tainlMax-g Wciétlon.

ac it. y .P. Ingraham.

221 Des crate Duke the Guadalou “Gs-

- l t.” By Buckskin  pe

222 Bill, the Blizzard. By Edward Willett.

223 Canyon Dave the Man of the Mountain.
13 Captain Mark ’Wllton.

224 lac Beard, the Buccaneer; or, Tho
Curse of the Coast. By Col. P. Ingraham.

225 Rock Mountain Al. B BuckskinSam.

226 The ad Bussars' or, {he 0‘s and the
Mac's. By (I t. F. Whittaker.

227 Buckshot en, the Man-Hunter of Idaho.
3y Ca t. Mark Wilton.

228 he aroon.

229 Cu itain Cutsleeve ' or. Touch-Me-Not, the
tht e Sport. By Wm. R. Eyster.

230 The F1 in Dutchman of 1880; or,

ho was an erdecken. By Capt. Whittaker.

231 The Kid Glove Mineréoor, The Magic 1

r of Golden Gulch. Bv l. l ham
232 Orson Oxx, the Mall of Iron; or. he River
Mystery. By Isaac Hawks.
233 T e Old Boy of Tombstone; or,
Wagering a Life on a Card. By J. E. Badger.
234 gehe Hunters’ Feast. By Capt. Mayne
id.

A new am every Wednesday.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale b all
hewsdealers. ten cents per copy. or sent by mail on

receipt rt twelve cents each. BEADLE & ADAMS.

Publishers. 981 William Street. New York.
» a

rs; or, Mad Tom’s ,

By Capt. Mayne Reid. \ ~ ,

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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I  “‘81 The Sea Owl.

25 7 Den til-Trap

" 278

 '28»
I, 290 The Lost Corvette
t 2101 Horseshoe

 

 

 

 :—_:i3.l_§lgl 21 y  11:5: D lira! E l: in I I‘igavlpl, AIR l  ii

235 Bed Lightning, the Man of Chance. By
Col. Prentiss lngrlfiiam.

236 (‘hain )lon Sam. By Col. T. H. Monstery.

237 Long- luii‘cd illnx. By Capt. M. Wilton.

238 Hank Hound. the Crescent City Detec—
tive. By Anthony P. Morris.

239 The Terrible ’l‘rio. By Buckskin Sam.

240 A (‘00! Head ; or, Orson Oxx in Ford. By
Isaac Hawks

241 Sp tlire Saul. King of the Rustiers. By
J08 E. Badger. Jr.

242 The ll‘o-g Devil; or, T'. e Skipper of the
Flash. lly Capt. i‘i'cd. \» hittaker.

243 The l'i grim shur l. l V Buffalo Bill.

244 Merciless Mart, tie Man-Tiger ot‘ Mis-
souri. By Buckskin Sam.

/ 245 Burrancu lliii, The Revolver Champion.

By Captain Mark Hilton.

246 Queen Helen, the Amazon of the Over-
land. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

247 .\.ligulor lke ' or. The Secret of the Ever-

lade. By Capt. Ered. Whittaker.

248 lontuna Nat. the Lion of Last Chance
Cam . By Edward Willett.

249 Elephant Tom of Durango; or, Your
Gold-Dust or Your Life. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

250 Tile Rough Riders; or, SharpoEye, the
Seminole Scourge. By buckskin Sam.

25] Tiger Dick vs. Iron Despard; or,
‘ Every Man Has His Match. By P. S. Warne.
252 The \l’nii Street Blood; or. Tick Tick.the

. Tc'egraph Girl. By Albert W. Aiken.
253 A Yankee (‘ossack ° or, The Queen of the
Nihilists. lty Capt. F erick Whittaker.

7 254 Giant Jake, the Patrol of the Mountain.

B Newton M. Curtis.

255 he l'iratc Priest. By Col. 1’. Ingraham.

256 Double Dan, the Bastard; or, The Pirates
of the Pecos. B Buckskin Sam.

iggingsI; or. A Hard Man

from ‘Way Back. 8 Jose 1 E. Badger, Jr.

258 Iluilet Head t. 0 Co orado Bravo. By
Captain Mark Wl ion.

2 59 (‘utiass and Cross. By Col. P. Ingraham.

260 The Masked Mystery. By A. P. Morris.

26 i Black Sam, the Prairie Thunderbolt; or,
The Bandit-Hunters. By Col. Jo Yards.

262 Fighting Tom, the Terror of the Toughs.
By Col. Thomas H0 or Monster .

263 Iron-Armed A e, the unchback De-
stroyer. Captain Mark Wilton.

26 l The Crooked Three. By Buckskin Sam.

265 Old Dnu bio-Sword ° or Pilots and Pi-
rates. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

266 Leopard Luke. the King of Horse-Thieves.

/ By Ch min Mark Wilton.

'5 he \' hlte Squaw. By Capt. Mayne Reid.
"logic Mike the Man of Frills: or. Bad
Ben‘s Bad Bright e. By \\ illiam. R. Eyster.
't‘he liayou Bravo. By Buckskin Sam.

A nd ros, t he Free Rover; or, The Pirate‘s
Daughter. lly Ned Buntline.

Stencil-t. ofBig Nu get Beach or Old
Ketclium‘s Tug of War. y Capt. Mark Wilton.
Seth Sloen in Railroad Surveyor,- or. The
Secret of Sit'ing Bull. By Capt. F. Whittaker.
Mountain Mose, the Gorge Outlaw. By
Buckskin Sam.

Flush Fred the Mississliappi Sport: or,
Tough Times in tnnessec” y Ed. \Villett.
The Smuggicr Cutter” By J. D. Conroy.
Texas Chick, the Southwest Detective.
Bv Captain Mark Wilton.

'l‘he Sane Jane, Privateer. By Capt.
Frederick W ittaker.

Hercules Gold-p u r, the Man of the Velvet
Hand. 1! Captain Howard Holmes.

270 The Go d-Dragon. By \\ m. H. Manning.

. 280 Black-HOss Ben' or, Tiger Dick’s Lone

Hand. By Philip S. arse.

B Col. Prentiss lngraham.
arauders; or, Chap-
By Buckskin Sam.

382 The Merciless
arral Carl‘s Revenge

'V 283 Sleek Sam the Devil of the Mines; or, The

Sons of the e Cross. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.
284 The Three ri ates 3 or, Old Ironsides'
Revenge. By Capt. . Vhittaiaer.
285 Lightniu Bolt the Can on Terror; or
The Mounts n Cat’s Grud e. y Mark Wilton
286 Pistol Johnny. lg oseph E. Badger, Jr.
287 Dandy Dave and is Horse. White Stock-
ing; or. Ducats or Death. By Buckskin Sam.
288 Eieetro Pete, the Man of Fire: or The
art ta of Locust Point. B A. P. Morris.
Finals Fred’s Full lien *or. Life and
Strife in Louisiana. By Edward iliett.
or Blakeley‘s Last
By Ca t. Fred. 'hitiaker.
suit, the Man of Big Luck.
1;; Capt. Mark Wilton.
292 oke Horner, the Boss Roustabout. By
Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
293 Siam ede Steve. ByBuckskin Sam.
294 [Iron cloth Burt. the Denver Dandy. By
Ca‘ptaln Reward Holmes. v
295 0 d Cross-Eye tho Maverick-Hunter. By
‘ Capt. Frederick Whittaker.
296 Duncan, the Sea-Diver; or, The Coast
Vuhures. By George St. 
297 Colorado Rube the mug Arm of Hot-
s ur City. By Wm.  Manning.
298 ogwar Lem; or. Life an Peril in the
Pine code. By Edward Wiliett.
ind. Tiger Dick, Iron Des-
pa . and portlve Sport. Bv P. S. Warne.
300 A Sport in R munch-s. BflWm. R. Egan.
as from nos.

Cruise.

‘  301 Bowlder ll ll; or. The

B Buckskin Sam.

302 G aro 8n n i, the Handsome Hercules' or, The

rip of Steel. By Joseph E. Badger, r.

 

 

The Satansmwn Election. By Cant. Whittaker.
304

silver- Plated Sol, the Montana Rover. By

Mystery of the Golden Beetle. liv A. . Morris.
307

Edward \\'illctt.

303 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw; or.
Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler: or. The
30 ' Queen of the Wild Rideis. By Buflalo Bill.
0
Capt. Mark Wilton.
306 'I‘he Rnughs of "ichlnoud‘ or, The
The I’huntoni Pirate. lin‘olJngrahani
308 Hemlock Hunk, Tough and True. By
309 Ila hold. the Battling Ranger. Ily
liitc (skin Sam.

310 'l he Marshal or Satanstown. By
Capt. Frederick Whittak' r.
3 1 1 lleavy "and, the Relentless. Py Captain

Mark Wilton.
Kinkioot Kari, The Mountain Scourge;
or, Wiping Out the Score. By Morris Rt'dw‘illg.
Mark illngie, Detective. By Anthony
Morris.
Lafltte' or. The Pirate of the Gulf. By
Prof. J.  lngraham.
Flush Fred’s Double; or, The Squat-
ter‘s League of Six. By Edward Wille-tt.
Latlttc s Lieutenant; 0r Theodore. the
Child of the Sea. By Prof. J. . lngraliam.
317 Frank Lightt‘oot the Milii'l' Detective;
or. Followinga Blind  By J. E. Badger.
318 The Indian Buccaneer: or. Red Rovers
on Blue Waters. Bv Col. Pren iss Ingraham.
Wild Bill, the Whirlwind ot the West. By

3 1 9
Buti'alo Bill.

320 The Gcnteel Spotter. By A. W. Aiken.

321 California Claude, the Lone Bandit. By
Ca tain Howard Holmes.

322 T e Crimson Coyotes. By Buckskin Sam.

323 llotspur Hugh; or. The Banded Brothers
of the Giant‘s Arm. By Captain Mark Wilton.

324 Old Forkcd- Lightning, the Solitar ;
or, Every Inch a Man. By Jos. E. Badger, r.

325 The Gentleman Pirate; or. The Her-
mit of Casco Bay. By Col. P. ingraham

326 The Whitest Man in the Mines; or.
The Dog-Town Crowd. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

327 Terrapin Dick the Wild Woods Detec-
tive. By Edward Willett.

328 King Kent; or, The Bandits of the Bason.
By Buckskin Sam.

329 The League of Three; or, Buffalo Bill's
Pledge. By Col. Prentiss Ingraliam.

330 Cop Colt, the Quaker City Detective. By
Chas. Morris.

312
313
314
315
316

33 l Chi-pa Chari ey,the Gold Nugget Sport; or,
The Rocky Mountain Masks. By J. E. Badger.

332 Spring-Heel Jack. By Col. Monstery.

333 Derringer Deck, the Man with the Drop.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

334 The Cipher Detective. By A. P. Morris.

335 Flash Dan, the Nahob; or. The Blades of
Bowie Bar. By Capt. H. Holmes.

336 The Magic Ship. By Col. P. ingraham.

337 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp. By Ed.
Willett.

338 Jack Sands, Sport. By Philip S. Warne.

339 8 read Eagle Sam the Hercules Hide-

unter. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

340 (‘ooi Conrad, the Dakota Detective. By
Capt. H. Holmes.

341 The Sea Desperado. By Col. Ingraham.

342 Binnco Bill, the Mustang Monarch. By
Buckskin m. "

343 The Head Hunter; or, Mark Magic in
the Mines. By A. P. Morris.

344 Double Shot Dave of the Lett Hand.
By Wm. B Evster.

345 Masked Mark. the Mounted Detective.
By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

346 Ocean Guerrilla-i: or. The Planter Mid-
shipman. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

347 Denver Duke, the Man With ‘Sand;' or,
Centl e Sam's Lone Hand. By Capt. How-
ard olmes.

348 Dan Dillon, King of Crosscut: or. A Wo-
man’s Wild Work. By Edward \\ lllett.

349 Lion-Hearted Dick the Gentleman Road~
Agent. By Albert W. A ken.

350 Flash Falcon, the Society DetectiVe. By
Weldon J. Cobb.

351 Nor’ “'cst Nick the Border Detective: or,
Dan Brown’s Fight or Life. By J. E. Badger.

352 The Desperate Dozou. ily Cap. Howard
Holmes. '

353 Barb Brennan, the Train Wrecker. By
John Cuthbert.

354 lied Richard. By Albert W. Aiken.

355 Stormy stove, the Mad Athlete. ByJos.E.
Badger. Jr.

356 Three Handsome "tarps. By Wm. B.
Eyster.

357 Jack Simona, Detective. By A. P. Morrh.
358 'Sl'ahe Prince of Pan-Out. By Buckskin
m.

359 Yellow Jack the Medina: or. Tiger Dick
to the Rescue. By Phi W

lip 8. arne.
360 J limpingr Jerry. the Gamecock from Run-
down. as. E. Badger. Jr.
By Ned Bumline.

361 Tombstone ‘Dick.

 

362 Bull‘an Bill’surip. By Col. P. Ingraham
363 Crowning-lucid, the Sleuth: or, Pitiicss
as Death. By Albert W. Aiken.

The sea Fugitive. By Col. P.1ugrahmn.

Been Kennard, the Shasta Shadow: or,

The Branded Face. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

The Telegraph Detective' cl‘. The, Dy-

namite League. By George Henry Morse.

A Royal Flush; or. Dan Brwvn‘s Big

Game of Freeze-Out. Bysos. E. Badger. Jr.

The (‘anyon King. By Edward Willem.

The Coast Corsair. By Col. P. inst-sham.

The Dusky Detective. By A W. Aiken..

Gold Buttons; or, The Up-Range Pards.

By Buckskin Sam.

(‘1: tai n Crisp; or, The Man WithaRccord.

By 0s. E. Badger. Jr.

The Sailor of Fortune; or. The Buc-

caneerfl oi Barnegat Bay. By Col. P. Ingraham..

Major Blister the Sport 01' Two Cities.

By L‘apt. Howard Holmes.

Royal George, the Three in One. By Wm.

R. Eystcr.

The Black Beards: or. The Hi h Horse-

on the Rio Grande. By Albert W. Al on.

377 Afloat and Ashore. By Col. 1’. Ingraham.

378 John Armstrong, Mechanic. By Capt.
F. Whittaker.

379 Howling Jonathan' or. The Terror from
Headwaters. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

380 The Golden Serpent; or, Tiger Dick's
Pledge. By P. S. Warne.

381 The Gyps Gentleman' or, Nick Fox,
the Demon tective. By A rt W. Aiken.

382 The Bonanza Band or. Dread Don, of
the Cool Clan. By Capt. oward Holmes.

383 silver Sam. Detective. By Mad. Daniel
Boone Dumont of the U. S. A.

384 lujun Dick, Detective: or, Tracked from
t eRockiestoNew York. By Albert W. Aiken.

385 Wild Dick Turpin, the Lion of Leadvllie.
By Wm. H. Manning.

386 Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective.
Jackson Knox, (Old Hawk.)

387 Dark Durg; or. The Ishmael of the Hills.
By J 05. E. Badger. Jr.

38 8 The Giant Buccaneer. By Colingraham.

389 Colonel Double-edge. the Cattle Baron’s
Pard. By Maj. Daniel Boone Dumont. U. S. A.

390 The Giant Cupid; or. Cibuta John‘s
Great Jubilee. By J. C. Cowdrick.

39] Kate Scott the Decoy Detective; or,
Joe Phenix‘s till Hunt. By A. W. Aiken.

392 The Lost Bonanza; or. The Bootoi’Silent
Hound. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

393 The Convict Captain; or, The Battles oi:
the Buccaneers. By Col. Prentiss ingraham.

394 White Beaver the Exile of the Platte; or,
A Wronged Man’s Bed Trail. By Buffalo Bill.

395 Deadig Aim, the Duke of Derringers. By‘
Jos. E. edger. Jr. ‘

396 The Piper Detective. By Wm. B. Eyster.

397 The Wizard Brothers; or, White
Beaver‘s Red Trail. By Buiralo Bill.

398 Sleepless-Eye the Pacific Detective: or,
Running Down a ouble. By Geo. C. Jenks.

399 The New Monte Cristo; or The Wan-
derirzg Jew of the Sea. By Col. P. ingraham.

400 ('uplain Coldgrip, the Sport Detective.
By Capt. Howard Homes.

401 The One-Arm Pard. By Builalo Bill.

402 snapshot Sam, the Pistol Sharp. By Wm_
R. Eyster.

364
365

366
367

368
369
370
371

372
373
374
375
376

By

403 The Nameless Sport. ByJ. E. Badger, Jr.

404 Silver Billie Sid. By Philip S. Warnc.

405 Old Bald , the Brigadier of Buck Basin.
By Wm. H. anning. '

406 Old Pop Hicks, Showman. By Capt. F.
Whittaker.

Cs tam Coidgrip’s Nerve or. Injun
407 Nicron Deck. By Capt. Howard olmes.
408 Doc. Grip, the Sporting Detective. By

Albert W. Aiken.

‘409 Rob Roy Ranehghor. The lmps of the

Pan Handle. Bv Jose E. Badger. Jr.
Ready August .

410 Sarah Brown Detective' or The M stery
o: the Pavilion. By K. P. Hill heady pt. 1

A new Wu: every Widnmlay.

Beadie’s Dime Library is for sale by all.
Newsdealers. ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on
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