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  X  THE HUNTED LIFE
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 A Romance of Two Generations.
BY BIAJOR DANGERFIELD BURR,

(5’11, U. S. Cavalry)

AUTHOR OF “BITFFALO BILL. THE BUCK-
SKIN KING," “WILD BILL’S TRUMP
CARD,” “THE PHANTOM MA-
ZEPPA,” ETC, ETC.

CHAPTER 1.
FOR ANo'rnEn‘s LIFE.

SOF'I‘LY swung: a hammock to and fro, he-
noath the shade of an orange tree, and a
pcon slave fan in hand, was nodding as she
mechanically waved the palm-loaf over the
occupant who had been lulled to sleep by the
gentle motion.

It was in the garden of a handsome
hacienda that the hammock was swung. and
, thcaflernoon sun had beaten down relent-

Wﬁrn —- — —» - 77-w—7 4 : rﬂvr, . ‘ ’ ‘ '
“RESPECT THIS PLEDGE!" AS snn SPOKE ISABEL VARONA HELD A” c ; . lessly :nui im'iled to repme beneath cooling
BADGE GIVEN HER BY THE CHIEF. shades.

     
{

 
l Enjoying a siesta in the hammock was a
young girl, whose dark face tinted with the
rich glow of health, and her ebon hair indi-
cated her Mexican blood.

She was attired in a loose ﬂowing robe of
Some gauzy material, and the lashes, as her
eyes were closed in sleep, rested upon her
cheeks, so long they were.

Iler face was very beautiful, every feature ,

being perfect, and her form was exquisitely
molded, one tiny foot being seen beneath
the dress, revealing a handsome slipper with
gold buckle studded with precious stones.

Suddenly the rapid clatter of lzoot's was I

heard without the garden wall, and they
awoke the peon ﬁrst with a start which also
aroused her mistress.

“ What is it, Ilrah?” asked the Mexican
maiden half-rising from the hammock.

“ A horseman has just ridden up, senorita,”
replied the peon.

“ My father has returned then."

“ No, scnorita, it wasmot your father, the
senor, for he came like the wind through
the chaparral. Oh! there he comes now,
Senorita, and it is 'l‘onio."

As the peon spoke a man hastily entered
the garden.

He was dressed as a Mexican «mgr/em, and
walked rapidly toward the maiden, his spurs
and trappings musically jingling as he ad-
vanced.

His manner was that of one who had
somethin of importance to communicate.

In the gicxican the maiden recognized the
head herder of her father's ranch, and she
called out quickly:

“Ho, Tonio, what brings you here with
such speed, for your horse seemed to ﬂy as
he passed around the garden wall?”

“Oh, scnorita, your father is a prisoner.”

“ M father a prisoner?" gasped the maiden.

“ lcs, senorita, he was captured by the
Americans last night.“

“Mary Mother have mercy upon him!
But, Tonio, m father is not a soldier, he is
not in arms against these invading Americans,
but simply a Mexican ranchero. Why then
should they make him aprisoner?" and the
face of Senorita Isbel Verona was now pale
with alarm.

“ Alas! senorita, they accuse him of being
a s l”

ycry broke from the maiden at this, and
, she said, with ﬁerce vehemence:

“My father a spy?

“How dare they so accuse him ?”

“ I know not, senorita; but he entered the
lines of the Americans, was captured, and it
is said that he was 9. sp . He asked that word
besent to the Genera Santa Ana, and the
messengertold me what had he ened, and I
came to you, scnorita, for the exican gen-
end can do nothing to save him.”

“ To save him?

“ Dare they harm my father, Tonio?”

“ Yes, Senorita, he will be shot as a spy at
.Iunrise, unless he can be proven innocent.”

“ God have mercy!” and Isbel Varona
seemed about to swoon; but, mastering her
emotion, she suddenly cried:

1this beautiful rider could see that it was a
: terrible strain upon him, she yet showed no

mercy, for the life of her father was at stake,
and all depended upon her getting to the
American camp in time to save him.

With a sinking heart she watched the
shadows lengthening, as the sun neared the
western horizon, and almost savagely she
laid the whip upon the ﬂanks of the strain-
in" mustang.

SIOWer and slower his pace became. and at
last he did not flinch at the cruel blows.

A hill, crowned with a heavy growth of
timber was upon her, and up this she urged
the tottering horse.

She was yet two leagues away and Black-
bird was broken down.

Ile could go but little further, and stag-
gered, rather than ran.

At last, as he was near the hill-top the red
stream of life burst from his panting nostrils
and he fell heavily to the ground.

Isbel Varona saw that he must fall, and she
nimny caught on her feet.

“I will run on until I too fall by the
road,” she cried, ﬁrruly.

Then, as she was gathering her skirt
around her she beheld a dozen forms spring
from the roadside, and a voice cried in a
commanding way:

“ llold, senorita!

“ You are my prisoner."

CHAPTER II.
THE MEXICAN BANDIT.

THE man who adressed to the Senorita Isbel
Varona the startling words, that she was his
prisoner, advanced rapidly to her side as he
spoke.

With a cry of alarm she shrunk back from
him and said:

“ Ah, senor! who are you, and why do
you detain me?“

"I am Don Cantrella, senora, the bandit
chief," was the reply.

She gaZed upon the man with a look of
comminglcd horror and amazement.

She saw before her a handsome young
man, for he was scarcely over twenty-five,
and one dressed as a Mexican cavalier.

She knew the man Don Cantrella as an
inhuman monster, from all that was said of
him, and she could not belive that this hand-
some youn caballe'ro could be the famous
bandit chic . .

His men were dark-faced, cruel-visaged
Mexicans, all armed to the teeth and wearing
the same attire of herders.

For a moment Isbel could make no re-
sponse, and then, as the thought of her father
ﬂashed before her mind, she cried:

“ Ah, senor, I beg you not to detain me,
for the life of another hangs upon my reach-
ing the American camp before sunset."

“ gut you are the Senorita Isbel Varona?”

1' am.’!

” As Wealthy as you are beautiful?"

“ I am rich, yes, and I will pay you well
to let me go.”

“Your father will be willing to pay a
handsome ransom for you.”

 
Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

of a ﬂute when he willed it so, and yet could
ring like a bugle in anger:

“ Senorita, believe what you sa . and I
accept your pledge. Meet me at ustang
Spring, two nights from this at sunset, with
the money. Come alone, for I will accept
it from no other hands, and as I now trust
you, so can you then trust me.”

“ God bless you, senor l” and the voice of
the maiden quivered.

“Pedro, bring my horse here,'and place
that lady’s saddle and bridle upon him.”

The man addressed quickly obeyed, and
the young bandit continued:

“ Senorita, allow me to offer you my horse,
and beg you to accept him as a present from
Don Cantrella, the guerrilla chief. He is
ﬂeeths the wind, and as enduring. Pardon
me.

So saying he raised her lightly to the sad-
dle, defied his sombrero. and too happy to
speak. Isbel Varona could only wave her
hand in gratitude, as she went ﬂying down
the hill toward the American camp.

“ How strange that I, who am utterly
merciless, men say, should have allowed that
woman to go,” mused the young outlaw, as
he stood watching Isbel Varona go ﬂying
down the trail with the speed of a fri hten-
ed deer. holding the splendid bloo ba
steed, given her by the bandit, well in han ,
and et urging him to his full speed.

“ saw her once before only,” continued
Don Cantrella, musing in the same tone
while his men had withdrawn [0 the timber,
leaving him standing alone in the trail, a few
paces from the dead mustang.

“ I saw her at church, and she knelt near
me, murmuring her prayers all unconscious
of m admiration of her.

“ hey say that she is an only child, and
the idol of her father.

“ I have heard that her mother was dead,
and that she was mistress of her father’s
grand hacienda, and the heiress of his vast
estates.

“ I have heard too that she was to In
her cousin, Captain Pierre Roscaro, of the
Mexican Lanceros. “ Heaven have mercy
upon her if she does, for, if he has nota
black heart no man has.

“ Well, I was merciful and allowed her to
0 upon her promise to meet me two nights
rom this at the Mustang Sprin . Will she
keep her word? We shall see. glf she does,
well! If she does not, I will be merciless,
for my faith in woman will have been de-
stroyed, as it has been in men. ’

“Curses on all men, I say, after what I
have been made to suﬁer.

“Ah me! how different might have been
life to me, had not cruel wrong driven me
to bechme what I am!”

His face was hard now, and his eyes fairly
blazed with the hatred that welled up in
them at the remembrance of what he had
been made to suﬂer by his fellow-men.

CHAPTER III.
THE srr’s FATE.
rior to the desperate ride, taken

 
A YEAR

, “Ilrah, nick! Get my riding-robe, and “Name your sum, senor, and I will pledge by Isbel arona, to endeavor to save her
you, good onio, have my ﬂeetest horse sad- it to you." . father’s life, the American army in Mexico
dled at once for me, whi e you take a fresh “ You have not a sum With you that was encamped but a few miles distant from

animal to accompany me.
“ 1 will be read within a few minutes.”
So saying. Isbe Varona ran toward the
hacienda with the speed of a deer, followed

would serve as your ransom?”

“ Indeed, no; I have only a few pieces of
gold in my purse.”

"And the Senorita Isbel Varona expects

the forces under the Mexican general, Santa
Ana.

In the army under the Stars and Stri es,
there was no etter soldier than Harr Igen.

by the peon girl, and in half an hour‘s time me to free her on my pledge to pay her.” ton, who, for some reason, had nine from
she was attired in her riding-suit, and mount- “ I have nodgng else to offer. ’ his companions the name of Her Kenton.

ed upon .a black mustang of great beauty,
was ﬂying along the road toward the Ameri-
can army, followed by the faithful Tonic.

The splendid black mustang was not spared
but was forced to his fulllspeed, and so rapid
was his ﬂight. so stead! y was it kept ’up,
that before half a dozen mice had been pass-
ed over, the Mexican, Tonio, had been left
far behind. .

Tonio was also well mounted, but the
Blackbird, as the Senorita Isbel had named
her horse, was a wonderful animal for speed
and endurance.

It was thirty long miles from the Verona
Hacienda to the merican camp, and the
trail led through valley, canyon. and over
hill and plain.

But the noble horse was pushed to his ut-
most, and when he began to ﬂag, the keen
quirt fell mercilessly upon him. -

Angry, and hurt by the blows, Blackbird
sprung on with greater speed, and though

 
“Then you ust remain my prisoner un-
til] I send a messenger to your father, for
your ransom money, which will be just ﬁve
thousand pesos. ”

“Send. My father is a prisoner in the
American lines. held there as a spy. and he
is to be shot at sunset, unless I can get there
in time to prove his innocence.

“ See, yonder lies my horse. which I rode

until he dropped dead, and now you detain
me."
“For the sake of the Virgin, senor, I pray
you let me go on my way, and I will kneel
nightly in prayer to ask Ieaven’s blessings
upon you, bandit though you are.

“ Ay, 1 will peldge you the sum ou ask,
and will send you the money wren and
where. you please.”

The young outlaw chief gazed upon the
beautiful girl .with feelings of admiration
and respect. Then he said in his low,
musical voice, which was soft as the tones

 
He wasa handsome. (lashing young fellOw,
from ,Kentucky, who had run away from
home, when his father had married a second
wife, with whom he could not agree. and
had been sailor and herdsman at different
times, until the United States forces invaded
Mexico, when he had joined a regiment. and
turned soldier.

He had been livin in Texas, and had
often been across the Ibo Grande. where he
had learned to s eak Spanish perfectly.

A splendid rider, a dead-shot, brave as a
lion, ever read to do a generous act, and
with a voice w ich in song around the camp-
ﬁre at night, would draw tears from the '
hardest heart, “Hark” Kenton had become
a general favorite with oﬁicers as well as
comrades.

In one of the ﬁghts with the Mexicans, he
would have been killed but for the courage
of a comrade. His horse had been shot and ,

 
\ .. aura-.9 m.~.—..._ ._W.

 
fell upon him, pinioning his leg beneath him, . . , I" V‘

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’ " ‘ 'v v  '- u 3. [Jr -  ‘-,._ ‘x._'-:;=._-'.«.“': diff-Ii.

t'i‘ﬁr‘i’e‘ > h: x

 
». armies.

‘ ' ' plain, he saw a horseman approaching ‘
The man had evidently ridden hard. for ‘
his‘horse came along at a jaded gait, and the ‘

 
Hark Kenton, the Traitor. 3

 
and down upon him rode two Mexican lan-
ceros, their lances in rest. There seemed no
hope for Kenton, and, unarmed, for he had
ﬁred his last shot, he gave up all hope, when
suddenly a comrade came dashing toward
him, directly upon the two lanceros. The

rider seemed to urge him in vain to quicken
his pace. ._
; Raising a small spyglass to his eye, Don
‘ Cantrella sprung to his feet with an oath, as
. he seemed to recognize the horseman.

l

I “At last! now for my revenge,” he said

Mexicans heard the rescuer's loud cry of de- l through his shut teeth, and he ran back along

ﬁance, turned, when almost upon the help-
less soldier, and ﬂed.
From that day Hark Kenton seemed to be-

ﬁthe ridge until he came to his temporary

I camp, in which were a score of his men.

“ Men, there is a horseman coming across

come the very shadow of Moss Reeves, for  the plain, and his way will lead him around

such was the name of his rescuer, and the ' the base of this hill.

two were inseparable. I
One night an American soldier approached 1

Be on the alert to cap-
ture him, and let it be done with your lassoes,
for I do not wish to harm a hair of his head.

the picket and was halted. He was envel- I When he is your prisoner bring him to me

oped in a cloak, and in answer said that he I
had been sent out to reeonnoiter, and, ex- 7

here.”
The men obeyed, while Cantrella calmly

pecting ,to return before dark, had not the , went back to his point of lookout.

countersign. '
So he was allowed to enter the lines by

The horseman was now not half a mile
away, and he seemed to be gazing at the

the sentinel. who knew him, for he had said ‘ timbered ridge before him with a desire to

he was Hark Kenton.

That ni ht, by a secret trail. a body of,
Mexicans ( ashed upon the camp, surprising I
it, and getting away in safety after doing}
much damage.

One of the ofﬁcers was wounded and left I
behind, and he stated that a spy in the ‘
American camp had informed them just how
and when to approach.

“And who was this spy, senor?" asked
the American commander.

“ As I hate a spy, I will tell you—his name
was Hark Kenton,” replied the Mexican ofﬁ-
cer.

So it came out that Hark Kenton had
come in by the sentinel, and that he had
not been sent out by the ofﬁcer in command.

Then it was known that he spoke Spanish
well, had lived in Mexico, and he was at
once arrested.

He pleaded for his life, saying that he was
innocent, and had not been out of camp; but
he had no one to prove it and he was quick-
ly tried and ordered out to be shot.

It was bright moonlight, when he was
marched out to be shot, and he went with a
fearless mien that won admiration from, all,
while he vowed that he was not guilty. ‘

But he was not believed. and many a
curse and bitter jest was hurled upon him by
his comrades.

Just as the order was given to ﬁre, with a
wild yell there dashed down upon the Ameri-
cans a s uadron of lanceros.

Hark enton fell at the fire, scattering
though it was, and the Americans had to
ﬁght back the enemy as best they could.

But they were driven back and the spy
was left, as was believed, dead upon t e
ﬂeld, alon with others slain.

But Har Kenton, though wounded in sev-
eral places, was not dangerously hurt. He
arose, when Americans and Mexicans had

assed on, and, as best he could, made his
we to the mountains.

e would not go to join the Mexicans
and he daredknot return to join his com-
rades, for he new that death would await
hi

111.

And sb he sought refu e in the hills.

Bleedin , suffering an shunted man, he
went on his way until at last he sunk down
from sheer exhaustion, and in full vrew of a
camp-fire. ,

But at that moment a horseman came
along, beheld him, called for aid and he was
taken into the little cam .

It was weeks before Heston regained his
senses, and then he discovered that those who
had befriended him, Who had most tenderly
nursed him back to life, were a band of
Mexican guerrillas, preying alike upon both

They were a desperate lot of men, outlaws,
deserters from the Mexxcan army, mostly;
but they had been kind to him, and so he
cast his lot with them.

In three months after, when their leader
was killed, Kenton was made their chief,
taking the name of the dead commander—
that of Don Cantrella.

 
CHAPTER IV.
A ransn FRIEND.

\ Knmon had been for half a year the chief
of theMexican bandits, when one day as he

read what might be hidden in its recesses.

He came on however without hesitation,
and was winding his way among the rocks,
around which the trail led. when, with a
whizzing sound half a dozen lassoes came ﬂy-
ing about him.

Several settled over his head, and others
about the head of his horse.

In an instant the animal was securely
caught, while the rider‘s arms were pinned
tightly to his side.

In perfect Spanish, as his eyes fell upon
his ca tor, he said sternly:

“ ho are on, and why do you make me
prisoner, for 0 you not know I am a Mexi-
can?"

“We are Don Cantrella’s band, and the
senor chief awaits you,” said one of the men.

The prisoner turned pale at this, for be
well knew what merciless hands he-had fall-
en into.

He knew that it was said that Don Can-
trella was as cruel in his hatred of Americans
as he was toward Mexicans. and those who
fell into the hands of the outlaw chief need
ex ect only death.

p the hill he was led by the outlaws and
soon the halted in the camp.

Just t en, stepping out from behind a
huge rock, Don Cantrella confronted the
prisoner.

“Great God! Hark Kenton, is this you,
or your ghost ?” cried the horseman, and his
face became very pale.

“ It is, in the body, not in the spirit, Moss
Reeves,” was the low regly.

“You were left for ead upon the ﬁeld,
certainly, after you were—were—”

“Executed as a spy and traitor.”

“ I am so glad to see you, Kenton; but
suppose you are also the prisoner of these
cut-throats.”

s s No. I!

“ What then f”

“ I am their chief. "

“- What?"

“ It is true.”

“ You the chief of these men f”

“ Yes, and why not?”

“ I did not suspect this of you, Kenton."

“ What was I to do?"

“ Return to our lines. ”

“ Bah! and be shoti”

“ Perhaps {Eu would havebeen pardoned,
after having en wounded, for you certain-
ly fell at the ﬁre.”

“ Oh, yes, I fell, and had three wounds
upon me ;- but none were fatal, as you see.

“ Still, but for these cut-throats, which I
admit they are, I would have died.‘

“ I am now, as I said. their chief.”

“I am sorry you have descended so lcw,
Kenton.”

The young outlaw laughed and replied:

“ Moss Reeves, do you think I do not
know on as you are?” ‘

“I 0 not understand you.”

“I understand you, for you, not I, were
the spy that led the Mexicans upon our
camp, and you wore my cloak, ve my
name to the sentinel and saw me 9 0t as a
spy, when you were \the guilty one. I was
{cored by my comrades, and cursed by them;

was led out and shot, as a spy, and be-
cause I was not killed was owmg to their
fear, not their mercy.

“ I dared not go to in people, and I
would not turn traitor, an , hating those I

 
sat upon the summit of a hill overlooking a

g, a) .. , a ,, . 
 n,,, ...~a.\. , » ,_ the...

  
had loved. and hating the Mexicans asthe
enenges of m country, I became, a bandit.
“ ome,

l

    
.- g

‘ “  . . ’4

 
oss Reeves, dismount, for you

   
have just ten minutes to live, for I will hang
you to yonder limb until you are dead."

The man had heard the story of the young
bandit witha face that was livid and lips
that quivered, in spite of his efforts to ap-
pear calm. He was still held close in the
coils of the lassoes, so could not move.

As Cantrella spoke, he gave a signal to
his men, and the soldier was at once dragged
from his horse. “

He wore a Mexican uniform over his own,
as an American soldier, and this was strip-
ped from him, while a number of papers
found upon him were taken by the chief.

“Mercy, Kenton!” cried the doomed
man.

“Did you show me mercy, Reeves. when
you stood by and saw me led out to die as a
base spy and traitor?"

_“ But 1 saved your life, so do not now take
mine.”

“You did not save my life by an act of
courage. for those two lanceros knew you as
their spy, saw you signal not to kill me and
so turned and ﬂed. You see, I know you,
senor." '

“Mercy, Kenton, and—“

“Hang him up!”

At the command the Mexican, who had
already thrown the end of the lasso over the
limb of a tree, the other end being around
the neck of the doomed wreteh, obeyed with
alacrity, and Moss Reeves was dragged into
mid-air, the tightening coil shutting off his
cry for mercy.

With perfect coolness did the outlaw chief
stand watching him until he was dead, and
then, with a pencil, he wrote a few lines
upon a slip of paper and pinned it upon the

bod .

The papers taken from him he placed again
in his pocket, and calling to his men to brin
the victim of his revenge along, he mounte
his horse and rode away.

The next morning an American sentinel,
when the dawn came, beheld a dead forn‘
lying not far from his post.

The corporal of the guard was called, and
the body was carried to the headquarters of
the commanding officer, and that person read
aloud what was written upon the slip of pa«
per pinned upon the breast of Moss Reeves.

It was written in a bold hand, and was as
follows: '

I‘

ma:— '
“This body in life was known to you as loss
v

88.

“ His real name was Mora Rivera, and he is a
Mexican who has long lived in the United States.

“ He joined the American arm‘y to serve as a spy,
and he it was, in wearing my c oak, who gave my
name to the sentinel, and arranged the surprise upon
your camp.

“ I was accused of bein a traitor and a y. and
a drumhead court mart sentenced me to oath.

“I was led out to execution and ﬁred upon, but
wounded, not killed. and. unwi to turn traitor,
I became the allv of those who ha befriended me.
“What I am falsehood made me, and I have gone
beyond redemption.

“ In the pockets of Mora Rivera you will ﬁnd
plans and pa rs meant to betray lﬁcu.

“Aoce t t em with the good w of one who has

and who,
though once Harry Kenton, an onora soldier.
now subscribes himself with deep negret.
“ Don Cam-mu, the Bandit."
Such was the storieof the young outlaw
who had captured Is 1 Varona on her way
:0 the American camp to save her father's
ife.

been a v ctim of man's inhumanit tom

 
CHAPTER V.
A rum Pannn.
“ OH, Senor Americano, he is not guilty!

Spare him, I‘implore you, as you hope for

mercy when you come to die!"

It wasa strange scene, and one to thrill
the heart of every one who beheld it.

The birds chirped merrily in the trees, the
wind was balm and laden with the per-
fume of many owers, the skies were blue
and cloudless and all nature seemed to in-
vite enjoyment of its beauties.

And yet, cruel, grim-visaged war hung

likeapall over the sunny land, and one
day graves were made over brave soldiers
fallen. '

The scene was in the sunny land of Mexico,

and the time was while our gallant Ameri-
can army was ﬁghting for honor and fame,
against the Mexicans.

The hour was sunset, and upon a ﬁeld were
a number of soldiers, wearing the unifom
of the United States Army.  ‘

 
r and his servants.

.r  gg ‘ "
o’es.irt.-,A,;,. ,

Hark Kenton. the Traitor.

 
In the distance was the camp, with the
Stars and Stripes ﬂoating over it.

A silence of death was upon the scene, for
in fact death was strangely near, as a man
was doomed to die. A man of ﬁne presence,
courtly manner, and a Mexican.

Dressed as a courtier he stood calm and
erect, though his bronzed face was pale, his
lips hard set. Before him stood a platoon,
the execution squad, and to one side was a.
grOup of omcers.

The sun had almost touched the horizon
when the clatter of hoofs was heard, and
then, in the distance appeared a horse and
rider.

A sentinel at the outpost tried to check the
ﬂying animal, that his rider should not. tres-
pass on forbidden ground, but unheeding

is challenge she swept on.

Like the ver wind went the splendid
horse, his nostrils distended, his head out-
stretched. covered with foam, and, though
doin his best, the keen blows of the whip
coul be heard descending at every jump.

“ Haltl who comes—”

But the command of the sentinel was
silenced with a quick:

” Stand aside!”

And on went the steed and rider like the
wind.

The omcers in command looked up with
surprise, while from the lips of the doomed
man came the words:

“ My child! my poor Isbel!
but to see me diei"

“ Your daughter, sir?" asked the American
colonel, stepping to the side of the Mexican.

“ Yes senor.”

Another instant and the horse was reined
in suddenly and Isbel Varona threw herself
from the saddle to the ground and sprung in-
to the arms of her father.

Not a word was spoken, and the eyes of
brave soldiers became dim with tears.

The scene was too sacred to be broken in
upon even by the stern rule of war.

For an instant did Isbel Varona remain
with her arms about her father, and then
suddenly springing to the side of the officer
she uttered the words that opened this chap-
ter.

“My dear dyoung lady, war is cruel and
merciless, an your father was taken within
our lines, and papers were found upon him
that condemn him to death as a spy,” said the
American ofﬁcer.

“ It is false! My father is no spy, and he
risked his life to enter your lines for a noble

She comes

purpose. Why do you not say why you

came father?”
“ I told them that I came here to visit my
dying brother, a priest who lives in yonder

ghacienda dead, for he died as I left his

house."

,Such was his story, senorita, and it would
have been well but for the papers found in
his saddle-pocket.” ,

“ Speak, father! What were those papers?”

“Ah, child, did I know that I had them, I
would not condemn the Americans for put-
ting me to death as a spy. But how they
came in my saddle-pocket I do not know.”

“The papers were certainly found upon
him, senorita, and though we wished to be-
lieve his words, for the dead Pedro lies in
yonder hacienda, as he says, we could not,

‘ with such proof, do other than at once sen-

tence him to death.

“ Senor, my father is a soldier, but a
peaceful dwel or upon his own land, with me
He left the hacienda two
days ago, to visit his twin brother, a priest,
Rho was said to be very ill, anOwithin your

nes. .
“ N dw I ﬁnd him condemned to death as a
s y, and you say that papers were found in
h s saddle- ket to con emn him as a spy,”
and Isbel arena spoke with strange ca .
ness.

“ Such is the case, senorita.”

“ Then there is some mystery in all this,
Senor Americana.”

“ I am sorry, senorita, and I wish you
could clear matters up so that your father’s
life could be Spared."

“ I can, and I will, if you will give my
father twenty-four hours longer to live. ”

The colonel stood in silent meditation for
a moment, and Isbel Verona continued
earnestly:

“ Spare him until to-morrow's sunset,
senor, snd give me the power to solve this

I _ I.

 
mystery in your camp, and to ride to General 3
Do this, I beseech mitted to enter them.”

Santa Ana’s quarters.
you I"

The colonel walked apart to where stood 1

his group of oﬂicers, and after a few mo- I knew I could

ments' conversation with them in a low tone,
returned, accompanied by a young lieu-
tenant.

Isbel Verona had watched eagerly every
look and gesture of the offiCers, and now
turned her eyes appealingly upon the colonel

l

and the young lieutenant who accompanied .

him.

Then the words came slowly but with de-
light to her ears:

“ In the absence of the general, senorita, I
will take the responsibility of postponing the
execution for forty-ei ht hours, and this
gentleman, Lieutenant avis, will serve as
your escort while endeavoring to find proof
of your father's innocence.”

“ May Heaven bless you, senor," said Isbel

Varona in a low tone, her voice quivering as i

she spoke with the emotion that nearly over-
whelmed her.
Then she turned to her father and said:
“Father, I will go to General Santa Ana
and get his pledge of honor that you are no

y.

“ I will save you from death.”

CHAPTER VI.

WAITING ON THE BRINK OF THE GRAVE.

THE young officer who had been detailed
by the colonel, to serve as an escort to the
beautiful Mexican maiden, Isbel Varona,
was a handsome, dashing man of twenty-
seven.

Hc had entered the arm as a Texan
Ranger, and his courage ha won for him
the rankof ﬁrst lieutenant on the staff.

Ilis uncle, for his parents were dead, had
given him a home on his Texas ranch, and
the young man saved up enough money to
pass three years in a northern college, and,
returning to his southern home after graduat-

ing, found his old uncle had just died and ’

left him his little property.

Joining the Rangers, Hugh Davis had
gone with his command into Mexico, with
the American army, and won some distinc-
tion. .
I-Ie deﬁed his hat in a courtly way,

when presented to the maiden, and, having .

learned to speak Spanish well, had been
selected for the guardianship of the ilovely
Mexican girl. thereby winning the euv of
all the other young ofﬁcers, who ‘vowe at
once to begin to study the lingo of the
country, for fear another like occasion might
present itsclf.

Having hidden her father adieu, and seen
him led off to the guard-house, Isbel Verona
turned to the lieutenant, who asked:

“ Now, senorita, what is your will?”

“ Senor, my father is not guiltﬁ, I am
sure, for he just vowed to me that e knew
nothing of the papers found in his saddle,
and I will go to General Santa Ana and
have him vouch for his innocence.”

" Let us ﬁrst see what can be done here,
senorita.” r

“ Well, senor.” ,

“Had we not better ﬁnd out if your father
mounted his own horse, and if so was it his
own saddle and bridle on the animal."

“Ah, senor, you have indeed given me
hope at the start. Will you ask my father,
for I do not wish to break military rules by
again speaking to him?"

“ Come with me, please."

She accompanied him to the guard-house,
and the young staﬂ ofﬁcer had no difficulty
in speak n to the prisoner,

“Senor arona, mayI ask if you found

your own horse awaiting you,~when on left 

the hacienda where your brother die it}.

“ Yes, senor.” 4.  7
“And your own saddle and bridlbﬁrpdn
hhn?" ﬁfﬁ 5‘ ‘

“Yes, senor, all were mine, on‘ﬁ.h the
papers within the saddle pocket I knew not
the existence 0 .” , «a ‘ , 

“ You are sure about the horse andisaddle
being you’re?” .

" When did you leave home?” '
“ Day before yesterday morning, senor.”

“ Alone?”

"nNo, senor, my chief 'herdsmsn was with

"‘ And then?"

- 
“i .1!
a v .

 
“I came to your lines, but was not per--

“ And then?”
“ I sought a mountain trail by which I
et in.”

“Did you disguise yourself?”

“ No, senor.”

“ Well?"

“I told Tonio, my herdsman, to await my
return, and I entered your lines. I found
my brother dyin at the hacienda, and re-
mained until the ast. I then departed from
the place, was arrested, searched, and the
papers were found as you know.”

" Who was at the hacienda?" '

“ Senor Carlos and his family and his ser-
vants; but the hacrenda being within your
lines, they were guarded as you know.”

“ And did our brother live there?”

“No, but enor Carlos was his intimate
friend, and he was visiting him when your
army surrounded the estate, and he was
taken sick there, and I learned of his illness
through some prisoners who had been ex-
changed, and so visited him."

“ Can 011 think of, no one who is your
foe, dwelling at the Carlos hacienda?"

“ No, senor.”

“ Thank you,” and Lieutenant Davis turn.
ed away and rejoined Isbel, whom he had
left outside the inclosure.

“senorita, will you go with me to the
Carlos hacienda?”

“Yes, senor.”

“ Will you be. guided by me?”

“ Yes, senor.”

“ You know the family?”

“ I do, senor."

“I will ask their hospitality for you to.
night; and I wish you to see every one con-
nected with the establishment and note if
fhere is one whom you would suspect of
being your father’s enemy.”

“ Ah, senor, you do indeed intend to help
me to save my poor father, and I will do as.
you wish."

“Be careful to let no one suspect your in-
tention." . ‘

“ I will he discreet."

“ And, after leavingjou I will try and
ﬁnd out what it was that led to your father’s.
capture.” \ ,

The Carlos hacienda was a large structure,
and its master was an old man, and a rich:
one. '

They were real Mexicans, hating the
Americans with all their heart, but kept
within the walls and grounds of the hacienda,
as a guard was there to prevent them from
going out.

There were half a dozen members in the
family, and twice as many servants, some
of the latter'being the cowboys of the estate.

Isbel Varona was welcomed by the Senor

Carlos and his family, while the young
officer was fpounced upon, and the story soon
told of her ather‘s capture and condemnation
as a spy.
“I will call for you tomorrow morning,
senorita, to escort you under ,ﬂag of truce to
General Santa Ana’s’ lines,” sai Lieutenant
Davis, upon taking his leave.

The next mornin he presented himself at
the hacienda. and sbel was awaiting him,
the horse which Don Cantrella had given
her bein at the door ready saddled.

“ We]? senorita, what have you discov-
cred?" asked Lieutenant Davis as they rode
awa together.

“ have found out, senor, that there is a
servant at the hacienda, who was once in
our home, and—”

“ A man ‘2”

“Yes, senor, a peon."

g' “Well, senorita?”
, “ He was suspected by my father of some
underhand work, and discharged by him.”

" Is that all?” '

"No, for he was heard to threaten some
day to kill my father.”

“ See if I can describe the man. A youn
fellow of twentyfour, with a scar upon his
left cheek, and strangely white teeth-J *

“That is the very man, senor; but, how
did you know of him?"

" I simply asked, why the Senor Verona,
afteé ﬁving entered our lines and the Ahacin

e by a secret way, was ambushed“ and
I r , red on his way out. ”

." A’nd, senor?"

" Word wastaken to the guard—house that

its

 
3 person wasito leave the hacienda hy yondef
. , L- - V V a ' tr

    
, .v 44"“

shim . .-..-.....,,... . .. .

3,.) H... ._:.;§

'_ ,WW
.4.._.,,....»...... . ..  . . —

\

 
I

  
5

 
Hark Kenton, the Tra1tor. '

 
canyon, which has, it seems, a cavern in one

I end of it that runs under the mountain spur

, beyond.

! “It was that way your father entered, and

l aguard, acting upon the word given the sen-
tinel, by such a man as I described, lay in

‘ - wait and captured your father.”

' “Oh, senor! you will yet save my poor

 father!

.3, “ I feel it."

4' ‘ “Do not he too hopeful, senorita; but I
, wish you to write a note for me.”

I “ Certainly."

“ Write a note to Senor Carlos to send the
peon servant, Nevada, on some excuse to
the American headquarters with a note.

“ I will see that he is kept there for some
l time awaiting a response, and when we see
him leave the hacienda we will go there and
search the effects of the peon, for I have here
the papers that condemned your father. "

They went to the coloncl’s tent, and there
the note was written and dispatched by a
soldier to the band of Senor Carlos, who
' I was told in it what to write, in case the peon
1' should open it.

Then the young ofﬁcer and Isbel Varona
went to a point from whence they could see
a the messenger leave the hacienda.

; They had not long to wait before Isbel
? ' cried out:

’ “ Senor, there he goes, and it is Nevada,
5 the peon.”

 
CHAPTER VII.
A MYSTERY TRAILED.
, HARDLY had the peon ridden away from
t the gates of the hacienda of Senor Carlos,
when the lieutenant and Isbel Varona left
their point of observation and rode down the
hill.

Their destination was the hacienda, and
‘Pey were soon ushered into the presence of
t 'e Senor Carlos.

fSenor, I am trying to aid the Senorita
Varona to save her father from death, and I
believe we are on the riwht trail to do so.

“You received the letter sent you from
head uarters?"

“ es, senor, and the peon has gone.”

“Permit me to ask if I can go to his room

We,

 .5 ...~..:,..,._. -W

 
! in the hacienda and search it?”
“ You suspect the man?”
“ I do."

: , “I will take you there myself, while Isbel

remains with my wife and daughters.”

So saying, the old Mexican led the way to
an adobe but near the stables, and which was
the dwelling-place of the peon Nevada.

Lieutenant Davis was a thorough searcher,

.5
it and every hole and crevice of the dingy

 
. abode was looked into.

.’ “ Ah! what have we here?”

i ‘ He drew out of a secure hiding-place as
5, he spoke, a small horn of ink, some quill
pens, pencils, a ruler and compasses, all

j: rolled up in' some paper upon which were

half-drawn maps, by no means badly exe-
v cuted, of the American camp, with notes of
i guns. force and sentinel posts.

“Your peon servant seems to be-a fair
draughtsman, Senor Carlos,” said the young
ofﬁcer, with a smile.

“ So it seems; but I did not know that he
could write."

“ When he comes back try him, by asking
him to write something for you.

“ Then send what he writes to me at head-
quarters. where I will take them.”

“ I’ will do so, senor. and if the life of my
dead friend is saved, it will be through your
kindness.”

The two then returned to the hacienda,
and leavmg Isbel there, Lieutenant Davis
, . went to the colone’ls headquarters, meeting
the peon just as he was leaving.

; . “lf that fellow is not adouble dyed vil-
'lain none ever lived," said the young ofﬁcer
as the peon rode on. .

‘Arriving at the hacrcnda. Nevada the peon
handed the letter he bore to his master, who
broke the seal and read it.

i - “ Hold, Nevada!" he called out.
’ g “ Well, senor?”
" ‘ “ That American oﬂicer demands a draw-
ing of my hacienda and grounds, and the
 . number and names of my family and serv-
 , ants. ’* h“,

‘Vlﬁuvy. y... 4... .

 
_ ' will ﬁnd me stme one who can do so, I wil
. ' . give him twenty pesos.” ‘
,, , “lean use a pen, Senor Master, and learn-

“My hand is too shaky to do it, so if 

 
ed to draw a little when I was servant to an
engineer in the Vera Cruz barracks.

“ Would I do, senor?” .

“If you can do the work, yes, so go about
it at once, and do the best you can.”

The unsuspecting peon quickly obeyed,
and in a couple of hours had completed his
task.

“ You have done well, Nevada.

“ Now mount your horse and take it over
to the American headquarters.”

The peon did as he was told, and, arriving
at the colonel’s quarters sent in the paper by
an orderly.

In the tent sat the colonel commanding
that wing of the army, and with him were
several ofﬁcers, among whom was Lieuten-
ant Davis. ‘

Before the colonel, upon the table, were
spread out the papers which had condemned
Senor Varona as a spy, and those which had
been, found in the peon’s adobe hut.

When the package from Carlos was
opened, with a short note stating that the
within was the work of Nevada the peon,
the proof was conclusive.

“ The man threatened the life of Senor
Varona, he was the one who told the sentinel
to have a (party on hand in the canyon to
capture an search him, and he drew these
maps. and wrote the notes, that is certain,
and placed them in the saddle pocket to thus
get his revenge. ‘

“ Lieutenant Davis, you have been lawyer,
detective, and soldier, in this affair, and de—
serve the highest credit, for you saved an in-
nocent man from death.”

“ Orderly l”

“Yes, sir.”

“ Ask that peon to come in here, and then
send a corporal and ﬁve men to my quarters
at once.”

“ Yes, sir,” and the orderly disappeared.

Soon after the unsuspecting peon entered
and $VC a military salute.

“ hat is your name, my man?”

“ Nevada, senor.”

“Well, Senor Nevada. do you know that
you have been guilty of an attempt at the
foulest kind of murder?”

“ Senor!” and the man started.

“ To get revenge against your former mas-
ter, you sought to have him shot as a spy,
and as the hour for his execution was to have
been at sunset tomorrow, I will simply put
you in his place, and do the Mexican Govern-
ment 8. service thereby.”

“ Madre de Diosl Senor Americano, will
you kill me?” cried the peon, now livid with
fright. v

“ I will do so, for you plotted to have an
honorable man die an ignominious death,
and to cause me to sentence him to die when
innocent, thus bringing upon me the sorrow
of an act of great injustice. ‘

“ YorLundertook to use the United States
Army as a tool for your revenge, and you
shall ﬁnd that you s tall die by the weapon
you played with.

“ Seize him, corporal, lace him in irons,
and take him to the guar -room.”

The corporal and his men had arrived and
the orders were quickly obeyed. ,

“ Lieutenant Davis, will you kindly go to
the guard-house, release the Senor Varona,
and ask him to come with you ‘to my
quarters?”

Hugh Davis was only too glad of the
chance, and was not very long in getting to
the guard-house.

“Ah, senor, you bring me hope. for I
read it in your face,” said Pasqual Varona,
as the young oﬂicer approached him.

I“ Yes, Senor Varona, I am glad to say you
are a free man.

" Sergeant take the irons off of the Senor
Varona.”

Thiswas done and the- Mexican grasped
the hand of the handsome oung American
while heaaid earnestly, in panish:

“ I’Jovve this to you.”

“ Oh no, you owe it to your daughter, for,
but for-“her coming as she did, you would
have been a dead man.

“B;ut you see that man?”

“ It “is Nevada, the peon, and in irons?"

H  H ‘ ’

“ A prisoner?”

     
“ Ah, Senor Verona! You win this game;
but these accursed Gringoes will not dare put
me to death,” hissed the peon.

Senor Varona made no reply, but he
thought differently, after the experience
that he had just had. and with deepest
interest as they walked toward the quarters
of the commander, heard the story of the
peon‘s attempt to sacriﬁce him to his re-
venge.

 
CHAPTER VIII.
THE PARTING. j

“ SENOR Varona, accept my congratula- ‘
tions upon your escape, and pardon me the
mistake I made, which was so nearly fatal
to you,” said the colonel. as Hugh Davis
entercd‘his quarters with Senor Varona. .

“I do not blame you, Senor Colonel, nor 1 .
will I hold the slightest ill~will, for it was a v 
plot against me by one of my own people, > '
and certainly the evidence was sufﬁcient for
you-to believe me guilty.

“ Let it pass, senor, and accept my un- 
bounded thanks, and friendship, though our .‘ 
nations are at war.” '

The colonel grasped the hand of the Mex-
ican warmly, and then said:

“Lieutenant Davis, will you go to the
hacienda of Senor Carlos and acquaint the
Senorita Varona with the news of her father’s
release, at the same time telling her that you '
will serve as an escort out of our lines, when
she is ready to depart ‘P”

“Yes, sir, I will go at once,” and Hugh
Davis was glad of the chance, for the beauti-
ful eyes of Isbel Varona were wounding him
fatally at every glance.

“ One moment, senor,” said the Mexican,
and the lieutenant halted.

“Senor Colonel, my brother, Padre Palma
Varona, lies dead in the house of Senor
Carlos, and awaits the coming through your
lines of his brother priests to bear him away
to the monastery for burial. May I, and my
daughter, remain as guests of Senor Carlos
until they come, and accompany my poor
brother’s remains through your lines to his
grave?”

“Certainly, senor, and all that I can do
shall be gladly done, while my sympathy is
yours in our afﬂiction. ,

“ Hol , Davis! and the senor will himself
acquaint the senorita with his release "’ w"

The face of the young oﬂicer changed a
shade at this, but the senor said: _ .

“ I will be glad to have Lieutenant Davis . J
as my escort to the hacienda, if he wil go
with me.” ' I

Hugh Davis ,was only too willing, and as
Isbel Varona wrung his hand,while tears came
in her eyes, and thanked him as the saver of
her father from an ignominious death, he‘ _
felt that he was more than repaid for what , .
he had done. "

The Senor Varona told them how he was
to await the coming of the‘priests, for they '
had been given a permit to pass through the
lines and remove the body of their dead
brother, and added: 1 '

“We will go with them, Isbel, my child, 
and see my poor brother Palma laid to rest.”

Isbel Varona started, and her face wore a
troubled look. This did not escape the eye z,
of the young ofﬁcer. , .

“Father, ou go with the body of uncle 
Palma, but must return home. " .

“ I! prefer you to accompany me, my ‘
child ” ‘

“I cannot, father." ,

Senor Varona scented surprised, and asked:

“But why?" ‘

“I must return at once to the hacienda,
father. ” . ~~

“ You certainly cannot return alone, and I  7.
must go with my brother’s body.” ‘

“ I came alone, father, and . will so re- . -" 
turn.” ‘

“Permit me to accompany you, senorita, ~.
with a squad of cavalry, until we are near.
your lines?" said Hugh Davis.  '

“ No, senor, I must go alone, for you
would Only run upon a Mexican ambush and
bloodshed would follow.”

“ You must go with me, Isbel,” said Senor '
Varona, somewhat sternly. ,

“I must return home, father. and as you
remain here over night, 1 will start now; , _

 
"Under death sentence, and he dies to-
morrow at sunset.” and as Hugh Davis spoke l
tﬁe prisoner and his guard approached l
t em.  ‘ , l

 
asking Lieutenant Davis to aocompany‘me‘ 

through the American lines." ' 1:
Senor Varona still urged; but the maiden,

to the surprise of all, would have berm

/

  
tits-w  "mug-‘3‘; .zrr ; ~ \‘cz‘b't-

 
' and, accept ng it the guerr

6

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
way, and telling her father that she would
hope to see him as soon as his brother was
laid to rest. she left the room to prepare for
her 'ourney.

" hy, Isbcl, where did you get that
horse?" asked Senor Varona with surprise,
as the splendid steed of the Mexican bandit
chief was led up to the door with the
maiden’s saddle and bridle on.

Isbel‘s face ﬂushed, and
lightly:

she replied.

“ Oh. it’s a new animal which I have got- ‘

ten since you left home, father."

“He is a splendid beast, but looks like a
very devil.”

“ He is as ﬂeet as the wind, sir, and speed
is what I needed yesterday,” was the signiﬁ-
cant reply.

Her father kissed her lightly on the fore-
head and then raised her into the saddle,
while the lieutenant, with a bow to the Senor
Varona and the family of the master of the
hacienda, sprung upon the back of his spirit-
ed horse and the two dashed away.

Passing through the American camp, Isbcl
Varona asked to go b headquarters that she
might thank the coiionel, and this she did
with a depth of feeling that showed her
gratitude.

“ You need have no more dread of the
man, senorita, for he dies at sunset to-mor-
row," said the colonel, and then he added:

“ I say, lieutenant, get a score of men and
escort the senorita on her road home as far
as you, deem it safe."

But this Isbcl would not hear to, and, af-
ter Hugh Davishad accompanied her, against
her urging his return, for half a mile beyond
thed last American sentinel, she halted and
ear :

“Now I will not allow you to go a step
further, senor.”

“ Only a little way," he pleaded.

“Not a step ”

“ But, you have long miles to go alone.”

“I am in no danger, senor."

“Well, I will risk any danger to escort
you further on your way.”

“ You must leave me here.”

“You ask it then?”

“I command it, senor, and as a true sol-
dier ou must obey!"

“ nd is this to be your parting?”

" Yes.”

\ " Forever?”

She started, and the hot blood rushed into
her face.

“ If cur nations were not at war, I would
alsk ou to come to our home as a friend.”

“ an we not be friends though our people
are foes?" ‘

“ You have been so ood, so noble, and I
owe on so much I eel that you are my
frien ,and I will say to you that a warm
welcome will await you whenever you care
to come to the Hacienda Varona. Adios,
senor, and may the Blessed Virgin guard
you, and spare your life."

She threw him a kiss from the tips of her

I ﬁngers and was gone.

6 dared not follow her further. and sat
upon his horse watching her until she disap-
peared from his sight far down the valley.

Then, with a sigh he turned his horse to-
ward camp, and as he rode along said musing-
] ‘.

“That little Meiican maid has won my
heart, that is certain.

“ Now here I am shooting at Mexicans
with real delight, and yet desperately in love
with a daughter of this sunny land.

“ Ah me! I wish this war was over," and
as he could not end it single-handed. Hugh
Davis put spurs to his horse and went dash-

, ing back to camp at a gallop, anxious by

rapid riding to drown thought.

CHAPTER IX.
TO KEEP HER PLEDGE.

THE reason wh Isbel Varona would not
accompan her ather. to the burial of his
brother, t e Padre Palms, has doubtless
been correctly surmised by the reader.

It was on account of her pledge given to
Don Cantrella the bandit chief, to meet him

Ir at the Mustan Spring, and bring him the

honey he had amended for her ransom.
She had iven her pledge in good faith.
He chief had not
only allowed her to go. but had presented
M with his own horse to ride.

 
But for the speed of that animal she knew
that she would not have arrived in time to
have saved her father’s life, for she had only
a few minutes to spare as it was.

Having saved her father, through her
pledge to the bandit, she would not break it.

She dared not make known to her father
the pledge she had given.

She well knew that where he would not
havo taken the money into consideration, he
would have prevented keeping her appoint-
ment with an outlaw. .

Then, too if she told Lieutenant Davis. he
might feel it his duty to prevent her going,
or at least to be there to capture the bandit.

Don Cantrella having kept faith with her.
she would not do that which would lead to
his capture.

So lsbel had argued to herself and she re-
turned home With the firm determination to
meet the outlaw chief and to carry with her
the ﬁve thousand pesos which she had
pledged as her ransom money. '

Well aware that her father had his gold
and jewels hidden away in a secret place,
and that he kept the key, Isbcl had gotten
her father to let her take the keys, under
pretense of getting something from his
treasures, which she inferred she wished to
present to Lieutenant Davis as a souvenir.

“I have there a jewel-hilted sword, lsbel,
of great value and beauty, and you had bet-
ter take that. as it will be appropriate, and
Tonio can take it to the outposts for you,”
her father had said, when he handed over the

eys.

“Yes, father, it would be an appropriate
souvenir," returned Isbcl, and she quickly
pocketed the keys.

After leaving Lieutenant Davis she had
not gone very far when a horseman suddenly
rode down into the highway before her.

It was the faithful Team, who had also
been captured by the bandits, but when he
told his mission. going on after lsbel, had
promptly been released, which he had cause
to cirngratulate himself that he had not even
been robbed.

He had approached as near to the lines of
the Americans as he had dared, and there.
though worn out and hungry, had waited,
hoping for the return of the maiden with her
father.

His face was clouded with dread, ashe
saw her returning alone; but it brightened
up when he saw her look of joy, and he
fairl shouted with delight when he heard
all, or Tonio was as true as steel to the
Varonas, in whose service he had been since
boyhood.

Accompanied by Tonio Isbel Went on her
way, passing the body of her mustang,
which the wolves were making a feast on,
and, without adventure arriving at the
hacienda a little after nightfall.

Isbcl was quite broken down, after all
that she had gone throu h in the hast two
days; but she knew that s e could only visit
the hiding-place of her father’s treasure by
night, an she dared not await until the next

da .

So, when all in the hacienda had retired,
she took a lamp and started for the spot
where the treasure was kept.

In one wing of the large and rambling
structure was an old chapel, where a dozen
generations of the Varonas had worshiped
and been buried.

In long years gone bya padre had been
kept at the hacienda, to say mass and absolve
the sins of the master, his family and ser-
vants.

But when Senor Pasqusl and his brother
Palma had been the only survivors of the
once numerous family, and the latter had
become a priest himself. after the death of
their aged tutor. a most worthy padre, no
other had been domiciled there.

Once each month, however, some priest
from a neighboring village, was wont to
hold service there in the old chapel. and to
hear the confessions of the master, his
daughter and the servants.

A gloomy lace was the old chapel b
day, and by night it was certainly a forbi -
ding place to venture into. .

But Isbcl Verona was a brave irl, and
having pledged her word to the has it chief,
she would not break it. /

So, lamp in hand, she wended her way
into the cha

el.
She had been forced to retire, to disarm

 
suspicion, and her maid had undressed her
and then sought her own bed.

So Isbel was in her night-robe, and upon
her tiny feet were soft slippers that gave
back no sound.

That no light might be seen from the
chapel windows by the men in the stable
yard, should any be still up, she shaded it
with her scarf and glided on down the
aisle.

She knew that scores of dead lay in the
vault beneath the chancel, and she shuddered
at having to go there.

But she was determined, and on she went,
her long white robe de unit, and her hair fall-
ing far down her back, giving her the ap-
pearance of a ghost.

Suddenly she started for a sound fell upon
her ear, and uncovering her lantern she
raised it quickly above her head.

Then there rung through the chapel a
wild, unearthly shriek, and a form darted
before her and sprung from the window at
the rear of the Chat el.

With a moan sbel sunk upon the ﬂoor
in a swoon, the lamp falling from her hand
and being shivcred to atoms upon the stone
ﬂoor.

Then all was darkness, all was silent as the
tomb.

CHAPTER XI.
THE FATE OF THE PLOTTERS.

WHEN Isbel Varona returned to conscious-
ness, she at ﬁrst could hardly recall the situ-
tion in which she found herself; but it soon
came to her in all its appalling vividness,
and she staggered to her feet and felt her
way rapidly along to the door of the chapel.

Back into the lighted hallwa she went
and then her courage returned to er.

She had heard a wild cry of alarm, l‘ d
seen a man’s form, and he had sprun fr .‘m
her and dashed through the chancel Window,
she thought.

This much she seemed to recall, and more
she could not remember.

Whoever it was had been as much alarm~
ed at her coming, as she had been at be-
holding him.

She then thought of her white robe and
ﬂowing hair, and how She might readily be
mistaken for a ghostly form in that sepulchral
home of the dead.

“1 will return, for I must not be driven
from my purpose. Wherever it was, he was
there to rob, and I have surely frightened
him half out of his wits. I will get my
father’s revolver and return.”

So saying she went into the librar and
took from a drawer a revolver whic she
knew was always kept loaded. Then she
took a hand lamp from a stand and lighting
it bravely returned to the chapel.

She no longer tried to shield the light, 'for
as the scream of the one she had surprised in
the chapel, and the ring of the shattered
lamp aroused no one, all were certainly
sound asleep.

She passed the pieces of lamp and went on
to the chancel.

There, to her surprise she found the trap
open which led to the vault.

The man had evidently just opened it,
when he discovered her approach.

Down the stairway she went, into the
loathsome place, and she could hear her heart
beat'in the dread silence about her.

About ‘her were her dead kindred, for.

generations back, sealed up within the nar—
row aipertures into which the coﬂins‘ were
place .

Iron doors closed them within, and these
were opened with keys.

To one of these iron doors she went. and
on the bunch of keys she carried in her hand
she found one to ﬁt the look. It turned the
bolt with a cracking sound, and a coﬂln was
revealed within.

But the lid of the cofﬁn she raised, by
touching a spring, and it revealed, not a
corpse within, but a number of bags of gold,
silver and jewelry.

The jewel-hilted sword, which her father
had su gestcd as a souvenir for Lieutenant
Hugh .
gers, silver plate and numberless articles of
value, the heirlooms of a century or more
from lon dead Varonas. =

One 0 the bags of gold she took out of

’ r‘ .. t.. .' ,  n4 :.
1'4 ’..", t.“- ,;,,t , .54  ,3,  - '

avis was there, with gem-billed dagy

 
1/

1 ‘...L. u‘» ..,.;....r
.\ . v

  
W4.
"a

“km--m‘F 74 -< .t min-g": “we. a —- : -

..‘:‘

 
Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

'7

 
the cofﬁn, and upon it was a tag, whercon
was written:

“ Five thousand pesos."

Having taken this, and it was no light
weight, she closed the lid, shut the iron door,
locked it and returned to the chapel above.

The trap was lowered into place, the open
window, which the man had gone through,
was closed, the pieces of lamp were gathered
up and then Isbel left the chapel and went
to the library.

There she hid the bag of gold, and throw-
ing away the broken glass, she returned to
her room. ‘

With a bound she was in her bed and
then her brave nature once more gave way
under the shock, and she moaned away.

In the morning she was awakened by her
maid, Fanita, and it was some time before
she heard what the peon girl was rattling off,
so dull felt her head, so confirmed were her
ideas.

“ What is it,
patiently.

“Ah. Senorita, Rio Grande Jose has been
found dead under the chapel window, and
his house was broken in, but who killed him
no one knows.” .

Isbel‘s face ﬂushed and then paled, while
she asked:

“ Was not Rio Grande Jose one of Senor
Carlos‘s men?”

“ Yes, senorita.”

“He was a great friend of Nevada, the
peon ?"

" Yes, senorita.”

“And left here when my father discharg-
ed Nevada?”

“Yes, senorita." ,

“ What was he doing here?”

“ I do not know, senorita, only Tonio
found him lying beneath the end window of
the chapel this morning, and he was dead."

After a moment, as Fanita turned away,
wondering that her mistress took it so
quietly, Isbel Varona said to herself :

“ They were friends, and it was a plot for
lNevada to kill my father and Jose to rob

1m.

“The latter killed himself in his spring

Fanita?" she said im-

from the window last night, and Nevada is :

to die to-day at sunset.
“Their punishment has been deadly in-
deed."

 
CHAPTER XI.
AN OUTLAW LOVER.

THOUGH a word from her could solve the
mystery of the man Jose’s death. Isbel did
not utter that word. She did not know that
any one had suspected that her father had

found a secure hiding place for his wealth, ‘

and yet Jose had known it.

He had, with Nevada, doubtless played
the spy upon her father, when they were in
service at Varona hacienda. and Jose, know-
ing that the senor was under sentence of

death, had come to the ranch to rob it of its '

treasures.

“By that bandit’s making me pledge to
bring to him my ransom money, I have saved
for my father a large fortune, for that
wretch would have robbed him of all,” said
gsbel, as she sat musing over her break-
set.

All that day she seemed distra'z't, and to-
ward evenin ordered her horse, the one the
bandit had given her.

Jose had been taken to a cabin, to await '

the comin of the adre to bury him, and it.
had been ecided ‘y the ranchmen that he
had been ruling by, and very drunk. had
been thrOWn by his horse against the chapel
and thus kille .

Such might have been the case, Isbel saw
in hearing the explanation of Tonio and
looking the ground over; but she did not
give a hint that such was not the case, and
that the dead man had sprung from the win-

dow twenty feet above, and in his fright had .

fallen on his head. thus killing him.

“ Shall Tonio accompany you, senorita?"

“No. Fanita, I will go alone,” said Isbel,
and she carried her bag of gold under her
scarf. and was soon after mounted and riding
toward the Mustang Spring, the place of ren-
dezvous appointed by Don (Jantrella.

Beneath her scarf Isbel also carried a smali
revolver, which she had taken good care to
load most carefully, for she was determined
tolhave the means of selfrprotection should

'   she have to defend herself.

She reached the Mustang Spring a little
earlier than the time appointed, but did not
dismount, remaining in her saddle with the
bag of gold in her lap, and the revolver hid-
den under one end of her scarf, and con-
veniently near her hand.

The Mustang Spring had received its name
from its having been a famous resort for wild
horses, hunters for leagues and leagues away
always feeling sure of catching a herd in that
vicinity.

 
basin, a 001 formed of rock, and then wound
away th ough the timber in a tiny rivulet

The spur rose above it a hundred feet.
bold, rocky, steep, and with stunted trees
growing in the creviees of the cliff.

From the spring the land sloped away to
a plain half a mile distant, and the large
trees growing near formed a fine natural
park, where wild horses, deer. buffalo and
carnivorous beasts were wont to congregate
to avoid the heat of the sun on the plains.

As Isbel approached the spring she was
surprised to see no animals near, for often had
she been there before, in her rides with her
father and an' escort, and never did she re-
member not to have seen a wild horse, a deer
‘ or a wolf ﬂy in alarm at her approach.
I Now the park was deserted, and about the
l spring there was not visible a living creature.
1 For some ten minutes she sat there wait-
} ing. her manner impatient and nervous, and
, then her horse pricked up his ears. “ Some-
I one is coming,” said Isbel.
' For a few minutes more, following the

gaze of the horse, she beheld a form advanc-

 
m .

It was a horse, and upon his back was a

rider. ‘
l “ It is the bandit chief,” muttered Isbel,
I and she became pale, though her face did
‘ not lose its courageous look.
The approaching horseman had seen her as
* quickly as she had him, and he came on at a
= canter.
l He was mounted upon a handsome a ' al,
white as sn0w, and with long mane an tail,
, while his Mexican saddle and bridle were
‘ veg elegant and bespanglcd with silver.
' e was dressed in the .ﬁnest of costumes
i belonging to the country, and his sombrero
; was a. mass of silver embroidery, while his
‘ weapons, consisting of a short sword, revol-
‘ver m his belt, and a pair of revolvers in his
saddle holsters were all gold mounted.
The Bandit chief had evidently taken pains

to look his best for the occasion. His hand
; some face had a pleasant smile upon it, as he
i raised his broad sombrero and bowed low to
. Isbel Varona.
She returned the bow coldly, and said:
i “Senor Chief, as dyou placed faith 'in my
word, and permitte me to go to save my
father, I come to 1prove that your trust was
not abused, and bring you the ransom
mone you demanded, ﬁve thousand pesos.”

“ y dear senorita, the trust you place in
me, in coming here, I more than appreciate,
and I am glad to know that you arrived in
time to save your father from death,”

“ You know it then?”

“Yes, there is little that takes place in
‘either army that I do not know,” he said
with a smile.

“ Then on know the treacherous act of
the man w o sought to have my father die
an i nominious death, to gain his revenge?”

“ es, senorita.”

“ But, senor, here is your gold, and your
horse I will send back to you tomorrow, for
I dared not bring any one with me today."

“ The horse, senorita. I beg you to accept,
for I so meant it when I gave him to you."

“ No, I cannot accept such a gift, though,
if you are willing to sell him I will pay you
your price.”

“I am not willing to sell him, and I beg
that you will accept the animal.”

" No, senor, he shall be returned to this
; spot within a couple of days, and left here
‘ for you. Here is your gold.”

“I wish not the gold, senorita.”
“ You demanded a ransom, and I have
. brou ht it.”'
i “ t was but to see you again.”
I “ To see me?”
“Yes, for not a pm of your money would
I touch, Senorita Verona.’

‘ “I regret that I came here then, senor, for
I assure you it was a great struggle for me to
keep faith with—” ,

\

 
lt bnbblcd out of a mountain spur, into a I
,you would wish, and you will ﬁnd that,

 
"at .~ ,.  :

She paused, and he said with a smile: O

“ With an outlaw, you would say?”

“ Yes.”

“Well, you did keep faith, and I respect
you the more for it.

" Now keep your gold, senorita, and you
are free to return to your home; but let me
tell you that I will watch over you most
carefully, no harm shall befall you, and, if
you need a friend, one who will give his life
%r you, come to this spot, and place a note
I yonder crevice of the rock. saying what

though an outlaw, my word is true as steel.

“Here, scnorita, take this little emblem;
wear it for my sake, and should an outlaw
halt you on the highway again, show this to
him, and it will be respected. “ It is the
secret badge I give for preteetion. Wear
it.”

It was a tiny gold sword, arranged as a
pin, and beneath it was engraven:

“ Respect the wearer.

“ Dos Oman."

Ere Isbel could refuse he had pinned it
upon her scarf, and the act disclosed the re-
volver clutched in her hand. .

“ Ah! you expected to meet one you feared
to trust.

“ Do not doubt me again, senorita,for I
lore you .’ Adios.”

He raised his sombrero as he spoke and
turned-away quickly, but halted and looked
back, while he said:

“ I beg you to keep the horse until I send
for him. Again Adios.”

,The spurs touched the ﬂanks of the splen~
did white animal that he rode, and away he ~
dashed down the glade. While Isbel was
about to start home, in bewildered wonder-
ment at what had occurred, she heard her.
name softly spoken.

She reined in her horse and glanced about .
her.

Was she mistaken?

No, for again came the voice calling:

“ Senorita Verona !” ,

CHAPTER XlI.
AN EAVEsDROPPER.
THE experience which Lieutenant Hugh
Davis had had. as a boy and youth upon the
ruiries of Texas, and afterward as a Texan
nger, had made of him a most thorough
plainsman. and no better scout was then with
the American army in Mexico than the
young officer had proven himself to be.

He had. the day following the close call ,
which the Senor Varona had had with death,
asked permission to go upon a scout, to see,

"just what the Mexicans were about.

The positions of the two armies at that
time was a peculiar one. ,

The Mexicans were guarding a pass into a
rich valley beyond, and their outposts were
scattered in a semicircle for many miles from
their base.

The American army was encamped in the
foothills of a lofty mountain range, and kept
their lines drawn close, not extending over
two miles from camp. '

They could see up and down the valley for
a long distance, and the haciendas of the rich
rancheros were respected by them as much

‘ as possible.

Down the valley, where a mountain spur
jutted into it. was the di'puted ground be-
tween the two armies, and here it was, with
the fastnesses behind him to retreat to, that.
Don'Cantrella, the bandit chief, held full
sway-

Having to go upon his scouting expedition,
Hugh Davis was well aware that he was as
likely to run upon bands of Indians, as
upon Mexican cavalry.

But he had perfect conﬁdence in himself.
as a scout. and held no fear.

His real object was, to tell the truth, a do-
sire to go to the home of Isbel Varona.

He knew that it was leagues away, that
the Mexicans swarmed about the country..
and the outlaws were a dangerous ntlet to
run. but he was anxious to see the autiful
maiden again, to show her what he had
risked to visit her, and so he asked the
colonel to allow him to go upon a scout,
hoping also to glean more valuable informa-
tion about the army. ‘

So. well mounted, thoroughly armed, and
with a couple of days’ rations; he rode away

from the army camp the day after the de- -. 4*-

porture of Isbel Verona.


.A

r
I

 
’the wordsbroke from his lips:

I , was to visit the spring, when his point of ob-

,Mustanf Spring.
n

r was waiting for the coming of the bandit

" ceived a fearful shock at this.

 , I hate to be an eavesdrOpper, but I cannot

" ‘ this man now indicates, I am glad to know

I . the scene, which the reader is aware of, fol-
‘ lowed between the two, Hugh Davis an un-

 his face lighted up With pleasure when he

7v“ . WHEN Lieutenant Hugh Davis saw Isbel
; " ‘_ Varona about to ride away from the Mustan

‘ ‘ . .Sprin ,after the bandit chief had departe , l
| surround them.

7 'JIook gazed about her.

 
8 Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
F

When a few miles from camp he knew
that he had gone farther than any American
had yet dared to go. »

But, be pressed on, avoiding the trails all
he could, cautiously watching every rock
and bush before him, and ready at a moment
to greet a foe.

At length he came to the foot of a ridge.
from the top of which he thought he could
gain an extensive view before him.

Dismounting, he led his horse up the steep
hillside, and upon reaching the top, found a
secure hiding place for the animal, where
there was both good grass and a spring of
water.

Leaving the animal to graze. he made his
way to the end of the spur, which he observ-
ed ended almost in a precipice.

Beneath him he beheld a large pool of
water, fed b a spiing bubbling forth from
the foot of t e hill. and the trampled ground
about it showed that it was a watering-place
for wild beasts.

In fact, he saw a number of animals about
him, which were good proof that no human
being was around, unless, like himself, he
had not been seen.

A shout startled the animals, a wild horse
0r two, some deers and wolves, and they ran
hastily away.

Having taken a survey of the surrounding
country, Hugh Davis was about to return to
his horse, when his eyes fell upon a horse-
man not far distant, who suddenly rode out
from a small canyon.

Almost instantly he rode back again, and
soon after another rider approached in sight.

Just as this second rider passed the spot,
when the formcr one had ridden out of the
canyon. the lieutenant leveled his glass and

“ It is the Senorita Varonai“

He seemed greatly surprised, and could
only think that she was on her way to the
American camp.

He saw that she would have to come near
him, and he meant to bail her, make his pres-
ence known, and then going back to his
horse, join her in the valley.

But, to his delight he saw that she was
coming directly toward the spring ﬁfty feet
beneath the clump of vines in which he was
hidden.

Hardly had he discerned that her intention

servation giving him a good view, be caught
si ht of another horse and rider.
he latter was also coming toward the

Turn g his glass upon the latter, he said:

“ It is that poor fellow Kenton, whose mis-
fortunes made an outlaw of him."

He dared not now attract the attention of
Isbel Varona, as Don Cantrella Was not far
away, and so he waited, determined to pro-
tect the maiden if necessary, from his posi-
tion, and for this pur ose he drew his revol-
ver and held it read or instant use.

He saw that Ishel arona halted, as though
to await ome one, and his heart almost
ceased to heat When he discovered that she

chief beyond all doubt.
His love for the beautiful Mexican girl re-

“ What can she have in common with that
‘man? '
“ It is certainly a meeting by appointment.

well help it, and if she is such, as her meeting

it!"
So mused the young American officer, and
a moment after on Cantrella rode up, and

intentional listener to all that was said, and

discovered that label Varona was as true as
steel. ‘

CHAPTER XIII.
nnsrnc'rnn.

 
he so tly called her name.
She started, halted, and with wondering !

‘ ain he repeated the name, and then, as

A
~ DonICantrella had disappeared, he stepped A:

cut from the clump of pines, in full View.

' -\.

   
, bridle-rein of Isbe

She uttered a cry of mingled surprise and
pleasure, as she recognized him, and called
up:
“ 0h, senorl Why are you there?"

“Will you ride around the mountain
spur, up the valley a short distance, and I
will join you?"

“ i. should return home at once.”

“Pray do as l lch of you. for I have some-
thing to make known to you.”

She bowod and rode away, and Hugh
Davis hastily retraoed his way to l 's horse,
threw the saddle upon him and calls to the
well-trained animal to follow him down the
steep hillside.

As he reached the valley he saw Isbcl
Varona awaiting him.

“ Ah, senor, you are a sad eavesdropper,”
she said, as she held forth her hand, and
added:

“ But I forgive you.”

“You can afford to, as I heard nothing to
your detriment, senorita; but let me explain
my awkward position in the affair, for I
would not you should think ill of me for an
instant.”

Then he told her how he had started on a
scout, intending to try and look in at the
Varona Hacienda, and had seen her approach,
and, crc he could make his presence known
to her, Don Cantrella had appeared.

“l’oor fellow, I pity him,” be gave the
story of the bandit chief’s sorrows and mis-
fortunes which had driven him into out
lawry.

“I cannot but respect him, senor, bandit
though he is, and I must tell you just why."

She made known her adventure with the
outlaws. and added: ‘ ,

“And now, you know why I would not
go with my father to the funeral of my poor
uncle, Padre I’alma. I had pledged my
word to the chief to bring him the amount
he claimed as my ransom. I dared not tell
my father, for I knew he would not permit
it, and you I would not inform of my inten-
tion, fearing you would attack the outlaws,
to protect me, and, after what he had done
for me I was determined to keep faith with
him. But it greatly startled me to have
him tell me he loved me.”

” You will be very often startled, senorita,
with the same kind of information from the
lips of men,” said Hugh Davis, and at his
words the beautiful eyes dropped before his

aze. ,
g “But, senor,” she said,‘quickly, “I must
tell you of my adventure in getting the

old.”
g And she did so, and then. with a hesitat-
ing look said:

“There! I have told you, an American
soldier in Mexico, just where my father
keeps his treasures, and your army will
doubtless be in possession of our hacienda
before very long, for you Americans seem
irresistible at arms.”

” I wish I knew one who could prove ir-
resistible a ainst a fair Mexican lady,” was
the low rep y, and seeing her face ﬂush, he

added

“ But you need have no fear of telling me
your secret, as to where your treasure lies,
for your father‘s hacienda holds a treasure
to me dearer than all of his gold and jewels.”

“ Ah, senor, I fear you Americans are
fearful ﬂattercrs.”

“No, I could utter no false word with
your honest eyes upon me.”

“ Ah! I must return, senor, and—”

" Permit me to accompany you?”

“It is a great risk, senor, for we are liable
to meet both bandits and Mexican lanceros.”

“ I will take all risks to go with you, as
far as you will permit me.”

“Well, you may come as far as the pass
yonder, and it is two miles from here, and
she ointed out ‘a bold cliff in the distance.

heeling by her side. as she turned her

horse homeward, they rode slowly along to-

ether, Hugh Davis falling more and more
in love with the lovely girl.

Soon they came to a narrow canyon, and
suddenly, without warning, a score of wild-
looking men seemed to spring out of the
very rocks, and up from the ground, and

The lieutenant, quick as a ﬂash seized the
‘ l 9 horse, and, leveling his
revolver attempted to dash through them.

But. though two men dropped dead in}

their tracks, under the true aim] of the oili-
- ‘ ,“ I ,i ‘, I I ' . A

r

    
icer, his horse fell under the ﬁre of his as-

sailants, and in a moment more the gallant
soldier would have been slain, when loud
and clear came the words from the Mexican
girl:

“ Respect this pledge!” ,

As she spoke Isbel Varona held aloft the
gold badge given her b the chief.

Instantly the men s runk back, and one
of them said politely:

" We respect the pledge, senorita, and

would never have attacked you had we .

known you had it.
“ Go on your way. you and the American

senor. though “he has killed two of our ‘

men."

“I thank you, senors,” said Isbel, while
Hugh Davis, glad to get out of a bad scrape,
added:

“ And I also thank you, senors.”

“The chief!” cried a voice, and suddenly
out of a canyon dashed a horseman, riding
at full speed, and with a revolver in his
hand, for he had heard the ﬁring while some
distance away and knew that his men had
found some game to pick.

“ What! senorita Varona, it is you that is
in trouble?

“ And you too, Lieutenant Davis?

“Men, you have made a bad mistake
here, for this lady wears the rotection
badge, and you, too, shall have it, lieutenant,
as a market my respect for you. t

“ See, nicn, this American ofﬁcer is under 3
my protection."

As he spoke Don Cantrella handed to
Hugh Davis a pin, such as he had given
Isbel Varona, and the young ofﬁcer accepted
it with the remark:

“1 thank you, Kenton, and I hope I may
some day offer you protection; but I was
not looking for an attack, and was surprised
by your men.” 9

“Surprised? Well, it is lucky for them i
that they surprised you, as I see you killed
two of them.

“No, no, I cannot, for—”

“ You must, for I have a number.

“You know it is very easy for me to et
horses, for they cost «me nothing; so take t is
animal, I beg of you.

“But you need a horse—accept mine.” i

“ Here, one of you men change the saddle
and bridle from that dead horse to mine,”
and Don Cantrella SDI'IID5 to the round.

“ You place me under deep ob igations to
you, Kenton." '

“ Do not speak of it, sir, for you were
ever kind to me, and fought hard to save
me, asserting to the last your belief in my in-
nocence.

“ It was proven in the end that you were
right; but I had gone to the bad then, and so
I am what I am—an outlaw. ,

“Senorita Varona, I'regret that you have
met with such a scene,” and the bandit chief
turned to label, who replied:

"Senor, in these days of carnage we must
expect strange sights. “I unexpectedly met
Lieutenant Davis, who saved my father from

 
death, and he was escorting me toward my
home, when we ame upon your men here.
I will now ride Oi.” .,

“And still accept me as an escort until
vou reach the other valley, I hope?” said
Hugh Davis, addin with a smile:

"For there is not ing to fear, now that we
hold these badges of protection from our
friend, the chief here."

“ I am your friend, Lieutenant Davis, and
the friend of this lady. More than that I
cannot say. “ Adios, senor, and senorita,”
and raising his sombrero, he walked back
toward the canyon from whence he had
come, his men following with their drag
comrades and the saddle and bridle stri pe
from the splendid white steed which I ugh
Davis had now mounted, and which bristled
a little under his change of masters, but was
soon subdued by the young ofﬁcer, who i
was a superb horseman.

n A. Lauwan...

if

CHAPTER XIV.
A RIVAL IN THE FIELD.

ISBEL VARONA was anxious to have the
young American oﬁicer turn back after the
tragic adventure with the bandits, for she
really felt nervous about his safety.

But Hugh Davis was not of anatui‘e to,
dread danger, and he was anxious to con-

 
tinue on with the maiden until she  l

   
allow him to go no further.

 
3.1.x;  la.  

.L." ._3Mw—_.~_~___~_ _A _,'f

as“ u‘

H‘CD WW‘Q

m

53:50

975%

 
, "He will die at sunset to-day, Cousin

 
Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

9-

 
As they now had nothing to fear from the
bandits, with the protection badges which
they wore, Liutcnant Davis had little dread
of meeting with Mexican cavalry, while he
was also desirous of ascertaining if there
were really any bodies of troo s movmg
about the valley, or encamped in orce there.

Isbel was more than glad of the company
of her handsome escort. who had done so
much for her and her father; but she felt
anxious for his sake. . .

His quick and deadly aim, and standmgat
hay against the bandits, had shown her a
specimen of his magniﬁcent courage, and she
could not but admire him the more.

So she yielded a reluctant consent, and
allowed him to ride on with her, when they
reached the pass which she had named as
the limit for him to go, when ‘they started
together from the Mustang Spring.

“How far beyond the pass here is your
home, senorita,” he asked, as he saw the sun
nearing the western horizon, and wondered
if he dared not go all the way.

“Two leagues, senor.”

He was about to rcpiy, when there came
in Spanish, sharp and stem:

“ Halt, for your lives!" I

The impulse was upon the young soldier
to wheel and ﬂy, but instantly the grasp of
Isbel Varona was upon his arm, and she said
quickly and earnestly:

“ Stay! they are lanceros!” .

As she spoke, a large troop of Mexrcan
lanceros appeared in sight, and Hugh Davis
felt that he was already caught.

Before he could utter a word, there darted

‘up to them an ofﬁcer splendidly mounted,

and resplendent in the gorgeous uniform of
8. ca tain of lanceros. .
" on are my prisoner, senor!" he said
sharply, and then turning quickly to Isbel,
he waived his embroidered sombrero, and

. said ;

“ Ah, in sweet cousin! this is an un-
expected p easure; but was the Americano
your prisoner, or you his?.”

Hugh Davis saw that the Mexican ofﬁcer
was a handsome man, yet his face was dark
and sinister, and he appeared like one whose
friendship it was better to have than his ill
will.

Addressing Isbel as he had, he knew that
she must be related to him, and he recognized
the lanceros as a dashing band of Mexican
cavalry which had 'ven the American troops
a great deal of trou 1e.

At sight of the omcer the face of Isbel
Varona had ﬂushed and poled alternately;
but when he addressed her as he did, she re-
plied:

“Cousin Pierre, this gentleman is nota
prisoner, nor am I one.

"My father owes his life to him, and he
was but serving as my escort thus far upon
my way home.

“Senor Davis, rmit me to present my
cousin, Captain arc of the lanceros,
who will join his thanks with mine for the
services you have rendered his kindred.”

Hugh Davis bowed, but he saw that the
Mexican was not well pleased with his hav-
ing found him the companion of his fair

, cousin.

“ Lgreet the Senor Davis, but I would
know more for what I am to give an enemy
my thanks,” said Captain Roscaro.

' “ A mere trivial matter, senor, that the
Senorita Varona is, I am afraid, willin to
on gerate into a service rendered,” rep ied
the ieutenant.

“ Pardon me, no; but, cousin, as you are
in ignorance of recent ha penin , rmit me
to tell on that. my one e, the god: Palma
is dea . he haﬂng died several days ago at
the hacienda of Senor Carlos.

“ My father went thither to visithis dying
brother, and going through the American
lines by a secret way, on his return was cap-
tured, and pers were found upon him
which condemned him to death as a spy.”

The Mexican’s face ﬂushed, and he uttered
a su pressed oath, and Isbel continued:

“ arrived just in time to stop the execu.
tion, and through the senor lieutenant here, I
discovered that my father was innocent, he

. having been the victim of Nevada the peon’s

revenge, who had placed those papers in his
saddle pocket, and then told the mericans
how to arrest and search him."

“ The base dog, " said the Mexican.

  
l
:3 Pierre, for the American commander at once

3 released my father and condemned the peon 
. having met Isbel, and their meeting together

‘ to death.”

“ And your father. Cousin Isbel?"

“ Remaiued at the Carlos Ilaeienda to at—
tend the burial of Uncle Palma, while I de-
cidcd to come home, and thus far the lieuten-
ant is my escort.”

Without telling a story, Isbel allowed the
Mexican captain to believe that she was just
then on her wa home from the American
camp, and‘this I ugh Davis noticed

But he felt that for some reason she did
not wish her cousin to know that she had
already been home, since the affair at camp.

“This is a remarkable story you tell me,
my cousin, and Ihave indeed to thank the
Senor American, and regret that it is my
painful duty to hold him my prisoner.“

The eyes of the Mexican girl ﬂashed at his
words, and she said quickly.

“ Your prisoner, Captain Pierre Roscaro?

“ You are mistaken, senor, this gentleman
is m escort."

“ am sorry, cousin, but I must do my
duty."

“ You consider it your duty to capture
this gentleman, because you have sixty lan-
CCl‘OS at your back.

“ Would you be as brave were you alone,
senor?"

’l‘hc Mexican’s face ﬂushed with anger,
while he replied: -

“Fortune favors me in having my men
with me at this time."

“ I accept the situation, senorita, so kindly
say no more in my behalf,” Hugh Davis re-
marked.

“ 1 will say just this, and Captain Ros-
caro can act as he deems best after hearing
my words.

“He is my kinsman, a welcome guest in
my father's home; but he has the power to
let you go free, Senor Davis, and if he re-
fuses, he shall never again cross the thres-
hold of Varona Hacienda, never again dare
to speak to me.

“ What do you say, Senor Captain?”

That Pierre Roscaro was deeply moved
by her words his face showed; but he tried
to treat them lightly.

He felt that“ he was beaten, and he wished
to retreat as best he could from his position,
and so said:

“ Under such a threat, sweet cousin, I can
only reply that Lieutenant Davis is at liberty
to return to his camp."

“ I thank you. Cousin Pierre, and am glad
to see you regard my friendshi so highly.

“ Senor Davis, again let me t ank you and
bid you adios.”

She held out her hand as she spoke and
Hugh Davis grasped it, while he said earn-
estl : "

“yI have much to thank you for also,
senorita.

“ Senor Captain Roscaro, I hope when
next we meet. you will have no bar to your
duty between us.”

Raising his hat Hugh Davis wheeled his
horse on the back trail, while he heard Isbel
Varona call out:

“ Come, Cousin Pierre, you must escort
me home.”

“ She understands the fellow, for she saw;
as I did, that he meant to follow me,” mut-
tered the young ofﬁcer, as he urged his horse
into a canter on his way back to camp, and
in his mind kept running the words:

“That man is my rival from this day.”

CHAPTER XV.
'rnn BROKEN ENGAGEMENT.

THE Padre Palms. was buried in the mon-
astery, where the members of his order were
laid to rest, and returning to the Carlos Ha-
cienda, Senor Varona obtained a permit from
thecolonel token the American lines and
go back to his own home.

 
the permit, at the same time remarking:

“I suppose it is useless for me to suggest,
Senor Varona, that you Will speak of noth-
ing which you have had a chance to observe
in our lines."

“ Certainly I could do no such thing,
Senor Colonel,” was the reply, and the Mexi-
can was then told that his enemy, Nevada
the peon, had been shot to death the evening
before. . -

Mounting his horse Senor Varona was

 
escorted past the American outposts by Hugh
r  v‘x...i,‘.-.: *‘»'V,7

. l.
, : Aug)

The colhnel sent for him, and gave him‘

  
§Davis, who had returned from his scout,
and who made known to him the fact of his

Captain Roscaro.

“Pierre is a wicked hater, senor, and it is a
wonder that he allowed you to go free, as he
believes in the harshest measures toward
Americans.

“ l was pursued by some of his cavalry,
senor, but the ﬂectness of my horse enabled
me to escape from them.

“ Do you not leave me here?"

“No, senor, .I shall accompany you be-
yond the pass, as then you will be in no
danger,” and En 1h Davis had in mind the
band of Don antrella. who he knew
would be onlv too glad to capture the old
Mexican and ﬂeece him fora large ransom.

As they rode on and were suddenly sur-
rounded by a party of bandits, it showed
the wisdom of the young American’s warn-
1D .

g‘ Respect the badge!" he called out in a
loud voice, raising the sword-pin in his
hand.

Mounted upon his white horse, given him
by the chief, and dressed in a. fatigue uni-
form as he was, Ilngh Davis had not been
recognized by the outlaws.

But now, to the amazement of the Mexi~
can, they quicklyfell back into their hiding—
places, and the two horsemen passed on.

“ Here, senor, I will leave you, as you will
be in no more danger,” said the lieutenant,
as they approached the pass where Captain
Roscaro had pounced down upon him when
he was with Isbel.

“Senor, I owe to you my life, yes more.
for I would not only have died, but it would
have been an ignominious death. Thanks
are of little worth; but believe me. foes .
though we are in name, let us be friends in
heart, and if ever you care to come to my

home, believe me your welcome shall be a: ‘

warm one.

“ Adios, senor, adios, and the Virgin pre-~
serve you from harm!"

Sosaying the Mexican rode on his way
homeward, deeply impressed by the scenes-
of the past few days. He had loved his twin
brother, Palma, most dearly, and his unex-
pected death had been a great blow to him.

By the terms of the inheritance they pos-
sessed, his brother's property now went to.
him; but if he died, and Isbel, the Church

would inherit all. I .

When his brother had become a priest, he-
had left in Senor Varona’s hands his entire-
wealth to manage, and so well had the pro—
perty been managed, both for Padre Palma
and himself, that he was one of the richest
men in Mexico, and Isbel would be the‘
wealthiest heiress. ’

When Senor Varona rode up to the piazza
of his hacienda, he found there Isbel waiting
to welcome him, for.she had seen his ap-
proach from her room window.

father, and I feel for on in your sorrow for
poor Uncle Palma,” s to said, feelingly.

had been escorted as far as the pass by that
young American. addin

” And he told me, ,
you yesterday in the valley, and our eom‘
ing uppn your cousin, Pierre, an his inn;

roe.

“ Yes, father. ”

“But what were you doin
alone, and so far away from
my child 7"

and you will then understand why I di not

doing in the valley yesterday.”

Then, to the amazement of her father,
Isbel told of her riding Blackbird to death.
in her wild run to the American cam , of the:
bandit chief giving her his splendi
bay steed, and why she had gone to the valley
to meet the outlaw.

vault, ’the meeting there of Rio Gran
who on posed she was a ghost, and then how~
Hugh avis, from his hidin place over the
Mustang Springj had hea
passed between on Cantrella and herself.

- The attack of the bandits upon them the
coming of their chief, the giving of the 

 
“I am so glad to see you back, dear ,

“ He is away from all care and sorrow my .,
child,” and‘ the senor then went on to te l of .
his crossing the American lines, and how he ':

faint of his meeting j 

yesterda ,"1‘ i L L
e hacienda, 

“Father, I have a secret to confess to on} I:

attend Uncle Palma’s burial, why I asked , 'i
for your treasure'key, and also whatI was ,

:

blood- 

9:.

She also told of her midnight trig to the 
e Jose,

all that has, 

  
p,
r ,

i

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
j, 10

 
- gold emblems of safetﬁ,I all were made
" ‘r nown to the astonished exican, who could
then understand why the American ofﬁcer
had been allowed to pass through with him
unharmed.
"And now, father,” continued Isbel,
“Cousin Pierre did not intend to let Lieu-
.'. , tenant Davis go free, until I told him he
should never cross the threshold of Verona
.7; / Hacienda again.
' “He then meant to follow us after the
.3, American and capture him, if he could, but
.4: r I asked him to serve as my escort, and he
.’ was forced to do so; but he said something
 to one of his ofﬁcers in a low tone and half a
 dozen men dropped back, after we started,
13., and I believerit was to try and capture the
 lieutenant.”
,v ' “That was it, and I am surprised at
.3 Pierre."
 “ I am not. for he has not the high sense
15;" " of honor that others of his blood have.”

 “I fear not; but you will reform him, my
 child, when you are his wife.”

I? , “ Father!”

 “ Well?"

it): “ I shall never marr him."

 The Mexican starte .

; “ I mean it."

if ' “ You will not marry your cousin?"
 . H No.»

 “ Why, child, you are mad."

,3? “ No, I am sensible.”

 “What can you mean ‘2"

if" “I mean that it has been an understood
thing that I should marry Cousin Pierre
 Rosearo, and I have acquiesced in it, forI
 did not love any one; but now I know that
ii}. I can never love Pierre Roscaro, and so I
‘35! shall not marry him.”
 " “Oh, Isbell’ .
7i: "I am ﬁrm, father, and he is comin here
:9. 'to-ni ht, he told me, to have a day set or our
  marr age. and I shall then make known my
 decrsion.”
a, . _' , Senor Varona be ged, and commanded;
 but to no purpose, or Isbel remained ﬁrm,
 > and at last he retired to his room with the re-
'  mark:
? 'V “ I gave my fpledge to Pierre, and so have
‘ v urged it, but a ter all I am glad of her deci-
sion to cast him off, for he is not worthy of
her.
_ “ But what on earth has changed her mind
so suddenl ?
1“ “ Ah! I have itl it is that handsome Ameri-
' r can.”
‘ The senor was ri ht in this surmise. for it
was indeed Hugh avis that had come he-
“:Itween Isbel Verona and the man she had ex-
pected to marry.

CHAPTER XVI.
g THE THREAT.
~- . IT was a stormy scene at Hacienda Varona,
'7 _*when. Captain Pierre Roscaro called to have
' 'a day set for his marriage with his beautiful
Cousin Isbel.
,. 33 Captain Roscaro was a second cousin to
 ,xIsbel, and much older, for he was a man
3201 twent -six where she was but seventeen.

   
.f’ 7‘ ,_ l He h inherited a fortune and had rapid-
 i}; 21y andered it, excepting an income which,
 ' ihe ' ld not spend the principal of.

es this he had his pay as a captain of
and a small ranch which paid him
5 ipend yearly.
,He w " a dashing ofﬁcer, and as expert
 with cardéb»_'as he was with a pistol, sword
and lancerand many of his superior ofﬁcers
'he he t in debt to him for money lost in
gambling, and thus he held considerable
\power over them.
, 'He had looked upon it as a foregone con-
‘ elusion that Isbel was to be his wife, and
"f‘as she/was known to be an heiress to vast
-wsalth, and their enga ement was known
'to all, the captain’s cred t was unlimited.
" , Hating Americans with a venom that was
merciless, he never allowed an opportunity
’ to to strike them a blow, and his courage
 uﬂuickly promoted him from a junior
J-t. 4 tenant to a captain commanding a bat
 ‘ talion of lanceros. .
 The fact that Hugh Davis saved his cousin,
,Senor Verona, from death, did not really
2 lease the captain, for with the Padre Palms
 g , and then his brother, Isbel would
‘have possessed all of the property, and, as
2 her, nearest relative and intended husband,
 would have it all his own way.
 " hen he came hacienda, to set aday for

 
.">»_i,'n ‘~.

his marriage, the Mexican ofﬁcer appeared
very happy, which was explained b the
fact that he had just been appoints to a
majority, for gallant service in the field of
battle.

The major, as now he was, received the
congratulations of the father and daughter,
and then, said:

“I hoped to have been a colonel, Isbel,
before I asked you to be m wife, but I cannot
wait so long, as any day may be killed in
this accursed war.’

Then a bombshell bursting in the room,
would not have surprised the Mexican major
more, nor frightened him so much, as did
Isbel's reply:

“ I have decided, Cousin Pierre, not to
marry you."

In vain was it that he stormed, then com-
manded, then pleaded.

She was ﬁrm, and her father left it all to
her to decide, for he saw that Isbel clearly
held the whip hand.

As for Pierre Roscaro he was almost wild.

His debts rose up before him like an
avalanche. threatening his destruction, for if
it became known that he was not to marry
his rich cousin he would be swamped, he
feared.

He begged her to put off her deoision for
six months. a year, but all to no avail; she
remained ﬁrm.

Then it stole over him that there was a
reason for this; and that reason presented
itself in the young American lieutenant.

So out came the words:

“ You love that infamous Gringo lieuten-
ant.”

u  I?"

“You do!”

“ Granted?”

“ You shall never marry him.”

“ I certainly shall not unless he asks me.”

“ He will never ask you."

“ Perhaps not.”

“ I know not.”

“Well, you may be right,” was the pro-
voking response.

“ I will kill him i" he hissed.

“ So far the war has proved that three
Mexicans fall to one American.”

“ Hal you deride your own count men.”

“ Oh, no! but I think they shou d beat
back a foe from their own territory.”

“ There is one that I shall dig a ve for
here. and you will see if I do not eep my
word, for no man who crosses my path in
love and war shall live to triumph over me.”

With this threat the youn Mexican major
left the room, and in spite 0% Senor Varona’s
entreaties to remain, mounted his horse, and
dashed away in the darkness.

As for Isbel, the threat of her cousin
against Hugh Davis caused a pang of dread
to seize upon her heart, and going to her

,room she said earnestly:

“ I will do all in my power to save him. by
placing him upon his guard. "

...,_._
CHAPTER xvu.
THE BATTLE OF THE RIVALB.

Tint day following the "irate de arture of
Ma'or Roscaro from the Varona acienda, a
sol ier came to the quarters of Hugh Davis,
and said that a man was at the outpost, and
wished to see him.

The lieutenant mounted his horse and
rode there at once.

He found that a horseman had approached
the sentinel under flag of truce. and upon his
business being demanded,said that he wanted
to see Lieutenant Davis.

It was Tonio, the head herdsman of the
Varona Ranch, and he saluted the lieutenant
politely as he advanced, while he asked:

"’Is this the Senor Lieutenant Davis?"

“ I am, senor."

“ I bear a letter for you, senor."

“ Indeed!"

"Yes, senor, it is here.”

He handed over a letter as he spoke.

It was addressed in a feminine hand and
was sealed.

The face of the young ofﬁcer ﬂushed as he
asked, forsomething better to say:

“From whence does this letter come,
senor?”

“ The Senorita Varona. senor."

The lieutenant blushed like a school-boy
and hastily broke the seal.

It read as follows: '

, .
. \ ,Z“ ‘V . . I «l .. K

.71 '.,.’ 't-hv '-.;'”',_. ,‘.- '-‘r-,., -."

zasTxm‘ E3 .1? 1’ fails. .’:. Ma .3 a I .  1 /

 
“ VARONA Racism

Saturday.
“Saxon me:—

" My cousin, Ma or Roscaro, whom you met, has
taken a violent d ‘ e to you, and has vowed to end
your life.

“I know that he is one to carry out his intentions,
and I beg that you do not so out alone from your
camp. nor attempt to come to the hacienda as you

promised.
“ Heed my warning, for Pierre Rr scam is merci-
less. " Your friend.

“ lsnnr. Vnnosa."

So highl did the lieutenant prize this lit-
tle letter rom Isbel, that be determined to
write her one in response, hoping that she
would also prize his.

So he bade Tonio await his return, and 0-
ing to camp indited a few lines which had a
double meaning, which he hoped she would
see.

It was the language of love delicately vailed.

He thanked her, and said that he would

head her warning, yet would risk any dan-

ger to again see her.

And T onio went back the better off by
several golden American eagles, than he was
when he came.

Several days after to his deli ht, Hugh
Davis received his captainc , and was ap-
pointed to a special comman of a company
of scouts.

The ﬁrst duty which Captain Davis enter-
ed upon was to'start out with his company
in advance of the army. which intended to
make a forward movement, having recsived
long waited for supplies and reinforcements.

Down the valley they rode, seventy strong,
and at their head rode the gallant young cap-
tain, anxious to meet the enemy and prove
himself worthy of his promotion.

As they neared the Mustang S ring a
horseman suddenly appeared before t em.

Instantly the command came to a halt,
while Hugh Davis advanced alone, for the
horseman held a white ﬂag above his head.

At the ﬁrst glance Captain Davis had re-
cognized the bandit chief, and as he drew
near him, the outlaw called out:

“ Well, senor, this is a mission of peace to
you, for I come to warn you that there is
dan er in your path.”

“ y dear Kenton, you are a noble fellow,
and most deeplgedo I regret that you have
been driven to come what you now are.

“h But tell me, what danger lies in my
pat f" ‘

" A squadron of two hundred lanceros
are lying in ambush at the ass for you.”

“ Ab! and that is a g place for an am-
bush. as l have cause to remember.

“But I thank on for your warning.”

“You can ﬂan the pass. senor, by tum-
ing of! here and going through a gap ﬁve
m les away.

“This will bring you in the rear of the
lanceros, where their horses are, which you
can capture and be master of the situation.

. “ Their spy assed down the valley several
hours ago, an informed Major Roscaro that
you were coming, for the lanceros left their
camp and at once went to the pass to lie in
wait for you.”

“ Again, I thank you. Kenton.”

“Do not mention it, sir, for I but do my
duty to on.”

"An the gap you speak of?" '

“ If you Will let me go ahead I will leave
a trail for you to follow, for I know you are
a good scout and trailer.

“ Where my trail ends vou can pre re to
attack the Mexicans, for Ihardly thin they
will leave the pass before night.”

Again thanking the outlaw chief, Davis
saw him ride away, and when he had dis-
appeared from sight, he beckonedto his men
to approach,

As theg rode up, and halted, he said:

Men, t at was our unfortunate comrade,
Hark Kenton, whom an remember, and he
warns me of an am ush of two hundred
Mexican lanceros in the pass below him.

"We will ﬂank them, and to my thinking,
though but seventy of us, we can win the
ﬁght.”

And heading the way, following the trail
left by the bandit chief, Davis went on to-
ward the gap, assed through it, and found
himself in the autiful valley beyond.

Here and there in the distance he beheld
several haciendas. and one he did not deubt
was the home of lsbel Varona.

As he looked, he saw two rsons sudden.
ly draw near upon a distant 'll.

_ ,..........s Me . t,

t, .4, sawmwﬂg

 
Cuts.

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

\

11

 
One Was a horseman, the other a horse-
woman, and his glass, quickly turned upon
them, told him who they were.

It was Senor Varona and his daughter.

A moment after, four horsemen rode up
behind them and drew rein.

They were Mexican cowboys. and Hugh
Davis recognized one of them as Tonio, the
bearer of the note of lsbel to him.

The party had come to a halt, evidently
surprised on coming over the hill-top to see
the American troopers in the valley.

Captain Davis was just making up his
mind to ride around and join them, when
the notes of a bugle rung out clear and sharp,
from the canyon, a quarter of a mile away.

The trail of the bandit chief was no longer
visible, and Hugh Davis remembered his
words, that when he lost his track, to pre-
pare for battle with the lanceros.

The next minute there dashed into sight
the squadron of Mexican horsemen.

They came with a rush, having evidently
discovered that the army had gone through
the gap and ﬂanked their position. and Major
Roscaro, who was at their head, was deter-
mined to overwhelm the Americans, whose
numbers he knew.

The major caught sight of the party on the
hill and recognized them, for he waved his
sombrero in greeting.

Then he deployed into line and the
Mexicans SWCpt down upon the band of
Americans.

Hugh Davis had quickly taken in the sit-
nation.

He saw that there was a ravine a couple of
hundred feet in front of him, and that the
nature of the ground was very rough after
crossing it.

By a ﬂank movement to the right he could
get good round, head off the ravine and
catch the Iexicans upon their left ﬂank,
while he would be in a fair way to reach the
pass, and thus be able to retreat; should he
have to do so.

The riﬂes of his men were long range, and
he géwe orders to ﬁre only when he gave the
wor .

As the Mexicans neared the ravine, riding

like the wind, the word was given.

The aim was true, and the result telling,
for down went a number of horses and
riders.

“Forward!” shouted Ca tain Davis, and,
obliquing to the right, the mericsns went at
full speed around the head of the ravine,
and, catching the Mexicans on their ﬂank,
while they were in disorder from the hot ﬁre
poured upon them, and hindered in their
movements by the uneven ground, they
went down upon them with inevitable fury.

Loud rung the wild ell of the troopers,
and their revolvers, the terrible weapon
which the Mexicans had learned so to dread,
rattled forth lively music.

In vain was it that Major Roscaro tried to
hold his men.

They were demoralized by their heav
losses, and the terrible revolvers spread pan c
in their ranks.

They outnunibered the Americans three to
one, but the charge of their foes the could
not withstand, their ranks broke, an , bear-
“: their cha rined and brave major in their
“1 d“. they ed the ﬁeld, leaving one fourth
:geir number dead and wounded behind

em.

_The Americans had no hospitals to be ﬁlled
with Mexican wounded, no prisons for
prisoners. and so they swept over the ﬁeld
and went at a gallop toward the pass,
the young captain highly elated at havin
won a meter against great odds, in full
view of” lsbel arena, who still remained up—
on the hill with her father and his herders.

And bitter, indeed, was Rascal-o from the
same cause, and, dashing up to the group on
the bill, as he saw that the Americans had
retreated, he uttered a sava vow that he
would yet capture Hugh Dav s.

“ No better opportunity than you ust had
may ever again present itself. Cousin ierre,”
was Isbel’s uiet remark, and it but added
fuel to the ame of the major's rage and
hatred against his rival.

 
' CHAPTER XVIII.
FOR Lova’s BAKE.

Tm: reader well knows the result of the
war with Mexico, and how our gallant

,‘ ,
i w  e. ,  »—— .

 
soldiers, under Scott and. Taylor, won fame
and victory for the Stars and Stripes.

When our armies had conquered a peace I

with the Mexicans, and the brave soldiers
started back to their homes, there was one
daring young ofﬁcer who did not return to
the United States.

He had won distinction on many a ﬁeld,
and his daring had been the admiration of

his commander and comrades; but he sheath- I

fall, we might as well arrange this affair at

once.”

I It was soon arranged, between Kenton,

1 whom the reader will recognize as Don Can-
trella, and a captain of lanceros who accom
panied Colonel Roscaro.

g The meeting-place was half a mile away,

" the weapons were to be swords, and in cast

, of their failure to kill, revolvers.

The principals, their seconds and a sur-

ed his sword, resigned his commission, and E geon Went at once to the ﬁeld, and Colonel

remained in the sunny land of Mexico.

I Roscaro and Hugh Davis, swords in hand,

He had done his duty as a soldier, and he ; faced each other.

now meant to win for a wife one of Mexi- i

co‘s fair daughters.

The Mexican was noted as a swordsman;
! but so quickly was he disarmed, that he did

That young officer was Captain Hugh i not comprehend how it was done.

Davis, and, as a citizen, for he threw aside
his uniform with his sword. he intended to
start for the home of lsbel Varona and ask
her to become his wife.

Several times after the battle between his
men and the lanceros, under Major Roscaro,

he had met the fair lsbel, and each time she ‘

had seemed to grow dearer to him, as he did
to her.

He had not told' her of his love, but he
had said that he would come, when the war

ended, to visit her, and to ask her a question 1

which he hoped she would answer as he
wished she might.

“ Come and ask it.

“ I will answer truthfully,” had been her
reply.

So, when peace had settled upon the land,
Captain Davis, attired in the picturesque
costume of a Mexican gentleman, set out on
horseback for the Hacienda Varona.

He stopped for the night at a small village,
and when he was seated at his supper he
was surprised to see enter no less a person
than Colonel Pierre Rosearo, for he had
risen to that rank. 0

The Mexican oﬁicer’s face was stern, and
his eyes brightened as they fell upon the
American.

Instantly he crossed over to where Hugh
Davis sat and said:

“ We meet again, Senor American?”

“Yes, Colonel Roscaro, and I am glad
that it is not as foes,” was the reply.

“You are mistaken, senor, for we can
never be aught but foes,"

“As on lease. senor."

“ It s all
your remaining in Mexico, after your ac-
cursed armies had left, and I know your
purpose for so doin .”

“Well, senor, if pay my way, am I not
entitled to remain in Mexico?” and ﬂu h
Davis kept his temper, for he saw that t e
colonel had an officer friend with him, and
knew that he was alone among foes, foes
smarting under their defeat by the Ameri-
cans.

“You can remain, senor, yes, and' I am
determined that your stay here shall be for-
ever. In fact, Senor Americana, Mexico is
to be your burial~place." ‘

“ Ahl you expect to assassinate me then?”

“ I am no murderer, sir.”

" Report had it with us that you were, and
I so consider you, fromthe manner in which
you made your men butcher our wounded
misgngrs who fell into your merciless

n s.

“ Hal you dare to insult me?"

“ You sogght me to insult me, senor, and
and 80' I- -ll simply say that you are a
coward.“

The words were very coolly uttered, and
the Mexican‘s face blanched with rage.

“ Enou h, sir! Iwill send you Hi friend,
and our ife shall be the forfeit or your
wor s.”

"I have no friend in Mexico, senor, that I
can call upon, so must ask you as a gentle-
man, to request one of your officers to serve
me."

“Permit me to offer my services, senor,
for I am an American."

The speaker wore a long black .beard, and
his hair hung in curls upon his shoulders.

Hugh Davis half started, but saw a glance
of warning not to recognize him, and 80
said:

“Ithank you, sir, and will accept your
services as freely as you offer them.”

“ Your name, please?”

_“ My name is Henry Kenton, sir.”

“ And mine, Mr. Kenton, is Hugh Davis."

v

“ Colonel Roscaro will name to you his several in
second, and as we have an hour before night- ' watching for some one’s coming.
. b" . ' _ V If ,

‘V.

 
as I please,,sir, for I heard of '

Furious at his failure to kill, when he had
expected to do so, Colonel Roscaro at once
demanded a second trial with revolvers.

3 They were to stand thirty paces apart,
' step forward at the word, and. a second call-
‘ ing out the steps, were to begin to ﬁre with
‘ seven, and continue to advance toward each
other in \il both revolvers were emptied, or
i one. or .Aoth fell.

Hugh Davis was indiﬁerently calm, and
Colonel Roscaro in such a fury that he was
nervous, and his second admonished him to
keep calm, adding: ‘

“That man may shoot as well as he
fences.”

“ I shall kill him,” savagely said the colonel,
and his words were hear by all.

At the word they both stepped briskl
forward, Don Cantrella having won the calf:
giving the commands.

As seven was called two pistols ﬂashed
together.

One man fell, the other remained stand.
mg.

As the surgeon sprung to the side of
Colonel Roscaro, Hugh Davis said:

“I hope his wound is not fatal, for I
aimed above his heart. ”

“It is a question, sir,” was the re ly of
the surgeon, and Don Cantrella drew ugh
Davis away, saying:

“Get your traps at the inn, and go with
me, for the feeling is very bitter against
Americans, and you may be assassinated."

“ Thank you; but where do you go?”

“Back to my mountain fastness, and you
.ride 'that way, as your destination is the
Hacienda Varona.”

“ You [now that?"

“Yes, for I know your secret; you love
the senorita and she loves you.

“1 daily love her, but I am an outlaw
and withllraw in your favor, wishing you
both every 'oy.”

“ And in 1 you still remain an outlaw?“

“Oh yes, to my death, for I have no
country. no home, no hope!”

Reaching the inn, Hu h Davis got his

ofﬁcer, and rode away with the outlaw chief,
who, having allowed his hair and bound to
grow, looked little like the handsome young
bandit-leader. of a year before. V

At the pass, which Hugh Davis remem-
bered so well, they

oung soldier to keep on to the V,
acienda.  ,
The welcome that he met, from both  r
Varona and lsbel gladdened his heart, ,’ he

and added: . ‘ ,
“I would like to know the result???

but if he is dead my kinsman brought'ftupon
himself," said the ranchero.
Tonio at once started on his errand, and

Colonel Roscaro was seriously but not fatally
wounded.

Then Hugh Davis asked the
had told lsbel he would ask, and er answer.
was: .

“ I love you, and I will be your wife!"

CHAPTER XIX.
. A RIVAL’B TRIUMPH.
A NUMBER of years have passed awe since
lsbel Verona became the wife of Hugh vis,

is asked to again visit Hacienda Varona.

 
sat upon the piazza of the hacienda, , -
across the Shins spread out before r for
68.

 
things, sent a vehicle a ter the wounded ‘ 

parted, the bandit to , f
return to his men, and his outlawry, and'the V g.
a" ,

 
told the story of the duel forced upoiﬁhim,

“ Tonio shall go at once and ﬁnd out all} I x if

the next night he returned with wordthat.

uestion he I

the young American soldier, and the reader '

One pleasant afternoon a bewtiful woman ‘ ‘

and Seemingly intent upon.’ f3"

 
 F12

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
She is not alone, for a young irl of ten
years is seated near her, while a little boy of
six is leaning upon his mother‘s knee.

They are both beautiful children, and
strongly resemble their mother, who“: faceis
saddened, as though with long suffering.

It is she who was Isbel Varona, now the
Donna Davis.

Suddenly her eyes fall upon a horseman
coming across the plain, and turning a glass
upon him, she cried:

l if “ it is good Tonio, and he rides like the

‘ V , wind. Heaven grant he bring me good news

. ‘ of m husband. my poor children!"

“ f it be bad news, mother?" asked the
girl, leaving her seat and coming to her

‘ mother’s side.

V _‘ “ Ah, my child, I dread it. Your grand-

1 ﬂ father is dead, and with all the wealth that

l . is mine, I am wretched. for that wicked

 ’, Roscaro has never ceased to persecute me.

" ,“ He has dogged my noble husband's steps
b day and night, year after year, and this
c ar 6 now of conspiracy against your father

‘ is, I elieve, his work.

A “I feel as though I could give up wealth

_ and home and ﬂy to the wilderness to dwell,

l
5.
9.
l
"x
l'.
D

r

a. %...,«.. w-” 

r
. l,
.1 ' I

r t
l, .
7 x

i

'l- , where that venomous man, Pierre Roscaro,
- would no longer follow me and mine.”
She had spoken aloud, as though to her-
self, rather than tO her daughter; but both
‘,the children had heard every word, and the

 little boy said firmly:

l:
x;
g:
 ll
. t
1";
l}
I?
g.

i )
I I
i

‘5-\

l

 “Some day. mother, I will kill that bad
 man, when I row up.”

' A short W ile more and the horseman
‘ dashed into the plaza.

He dismounted, and as he approached the
iazza, his step was slow, his head was
owed.

 ,, “ Speak. Antoniol speak! What of my

‘  f :husband?" cried the woman, springing to
- ‘ ‘ her feet;

“ Alas, senora, it is all over.”

  I “ DO you mean that my husband has been
i  _ found guilty of conspiracy?” asked Isbel
*9 z: '3,  with strange calmness.

" ' “ The tribunal found him guilty, senora."

“And what the punishment?”
“Death!”
. "An when is he to be executed?” asked
the woman in the same strangely calm tone.
“He has been executed, senora. ’
One long, ringing or of anguish, and
label. the stricken wrfe, ell her length upon

, . the piazza.
fir In loud tones Tonic called for Fanita, who
" ~ :had become his wife, and she was borne into

[the hacienda and the physician sent for.

  
5 Three months after, two horsemen ap-
. reached the Varona Hacienda. One was
 civilian attire, the other in the uniform of

a: colonel of income; .'

“This, is the place, Caballos,” said the

,eolonel. _ , 

‘ “ And you soon will know your fate, Col-

, onel Roscaro."
 , “ Yes. I) ’
“ If she refuses to believe you i"

. , "She must believe me, Caballos, and you
 are to prove that I did all in my power to
"5’ ‘ssvenher husband.”

, . “Oh, I can rove any lie, Roscaro; but if
it she refuses to come your wife ‘2" .
“‘ “ Then I am ruined." , '

)- o. '

‘3" :1:
. r.

..

‘i ~ It looks so.”

 ' "And you are, too.”

 . “‘1 fear we are both in the same boat, col-
one ’

 ’"  -, “ e are, and I will have to ﬂy, for I am

 fearftu in debt, and. but for the belief that

7’, " '.-' ,y In: to marry my cousin, I would have been

i ruined a month ago. ’

w ? . “She must arry me, Caballos, if it is a

“forced marriag ."
' es

 ,The one referred to awaited the coming of
'i' " gri‘tho two horsemen, and Colonel Roscaro re-

«5' :,  the manager of the ranch.

’ ‘ Kh, Pedro, how are you?
a’  "And my cousin, 1 hope, is well?”
L , I 9 ' f “' he donna is not here, Senor Colonel.”
'  “ ot here?" .'

‘. ""No, senor,” .

 ' zzwugumnoirza‘he'" ' d an arm a
g. ’ " , senor, ’an eman gge

If” oulders. v

" What do you

   
mean f”

l

“She left her nearly three months ago.” at on

 
“ Where did she go?"

“ She would not tell.”

“ Speak, man, and tell me what you
mean!"

“ After the senor’s death. she lay for days,
all of us expecting her to die.

"Then Tonio, who had been away for‘

some time returned, and they had alongtalk
together. ‘

“ Two nights after the senora, her children, ;
Fanita and Tonio departed on horseback, and 1'

carried with them a number of pack-mules,
laden with baggage.

“ She told me to turn the revenues Of the
ranch into the bank in her name, and where
she went no one knows, and she said she
would not be heard of again until her son
was of age and could avenge his father. ’

“ That is all that 1 can tell on, senor. "

“ Did she take her gold wit) her?”

“ What treasure she had she sent to the
bank. and yet kept gold enough to pay her
way.”

“ I will overlook the house, Pedro, and—”

“ Senor, l have orders to kill you if you
attempt to cross the threshold. and before her
departure the scnora had me created an offi-

cer of the law for that purpose, so I warn r

you off, for l have my herders near.”

With an oath Colonel Roscaro turned
awa , followed with alacrity by his com-
panion, Caballos.

“ We are ruined!" groaned the ofiicer.

“ Yes, and what is to be done, senor?"

“ I will resign my commission and turn
bandit, to get money enough to hunt the
Earth over, tO ﬁnd. that woman and her chil-

ren.

“Mark my words, Caballos, I will yet‘

have my revenge and get that fortune for all
my own, for, if she Will not marry me, her
daughter shall, and the boy’s death and his
mother's will give me all.

“ DO you see?"

“ I see, senor, but has not the Church a
claim on the property?”

“ Should the woman die, and her children
die, yes, it goes to the Church.

“ But, should the woman and the boy die,
and the daughter marry, then all is hers,
and her husband’s. of course. it is worth
working for, Caballos.”

“It is indeed, senor, and I will cling to
you until the end,” was the earnest reply of
Caballos. __ '
CHAPTER XX.

“rm: CONNECTING LINK."

SOME twelve years after the vow of Pierre
Roscaro, to hunt down Isbel and her chil-
dren, a young man was seated in a handsome
room in a New York hotel.

He was strikingly handsome in erson,
some thirty years of a e, tall, well- armed,
and with a ﬁgure that enoted strength and
activit above the average.

His ronzed face did not indicate the city ;
man, though he was richly attired and had l
the free-and-easy manner of one who had l
mingled much with the world.

An 0 en letter was in his hand, and hav-
ing ran it he sollloquized as follows: I

“ Now, God bless that old uncle Of mine;

 
he has left me the old homestead in Ten-i

nessee, where my happy boyhood was passed,
and which he bou ht in when father failed, !
to keep it in the amily. The estate brin s i

' in a handsome livin , and will come in we I,

as I have about use up the thirty thousand 1
old Aunt Phoebe left me to be educated 1
abroad. and see the world on.

“ Well, I have seen the world, I think, and ‘
extracted out Of it all the pleasure I could. I
have hunted lions in Africa. ele hants and
tigers in India, enjoyed gay life in the capi-
ta s Of Europe, and dwelt years on our West-
ern plains, while, best of all, I have dodged
designin mammas. and have never yet seen
the girl would marry.

" cannot o to the old homestead to live,
for father ied there by his own hand,
mother broke her heart mourning for him,
and only sad remembrances cling about the

place.

“ I’ll go by, however, put a good agent in
charge—one who will bank m money in my
name and not his own—and t on I’ll take a
run down into Texas and Mexico for a real
devil-I-care tramp over the prairies and
into the Comanche country for a little ex-
citement. Yes, I’ll start as soon as I can get

     
{ “ I will need a new repeating riﬂe, revol.
; vers, and. in fact, a complete outﬁt, and I’ll
purchase them tomorrow.
“ When I get tired of my roving life, l‘ll
return to the old homestead, on the shady
l side of life, and settle down as an old bache—
lor, as Uncle llart did.

“But who will I leave my money to, for
I never intend to marry? '

“I do not know.

“Ah! I'll found an asylum for old bache—
, lors, calling it ‘ Bachelors’ Ilappy Home:
3 Founded by Ilart llazel, a bachelor.

“ Yes that is what I will do.

“But now to get an outﬁt and start for the
old homestead, to look over my inheritance,
and then, Hart Hazel, you are Off for Texas
and Mexico.”

CHAPTER XXI.

AROUND THE CAMP-FIRE.
BRIGHTLY ﬂashed up the ruddy blaze Of a
jcamp-ﬁre, sending streams of light far out
across the prairie, and reﬂecting back a
‘ sparkle from the keen eyes Of a hungry pack
of wolves gazing wistfully toward the scene,
as if longing to revel in the refuse of the
substantial supper just discussed b a party
of bold and reckless prairiemen, idly seated
around the cheerful warmth.

The duties of the night were over, the
stock was securely staked out, and the ﬁve
men who composed the party, were lazily
drawing the smoker’s dream of comfort
1 through their pipe-stems, to quiet them for
Lthe dreamlr-ss slumber Of those who have
worked hard during the day.

. The conversation going the rounds of the
little circle seemed a little out of place for
the wild prairie, and from men of their
stamp, for it was not Of wild adventure, of
scenes of danger and death, as one would
‘ have expected from men of the border, for
in the group ,were Mariposa Sam, Black
Charlie, Burt Davis and Dingle, all well
known along the frontier to both pale-face
and red-skin.

The ﬁfth man was Hart Hazel. the one
who had inherited the Old Tennessee horre-
stead, and the only one of the five on the
sunny side of fortyﬁve.

He was a bronzed faced, eagle-e ed,

 
i straight-limbed, quick-motioned man, ful of

vitaht .

lie lied traveled far in his time, and was
at home alike in the parlor or on the prairie,
at close quarters in the deadly strife, or at

lonlg rangle. .
houg admired by all he was especially
the favorite of the fair-sex, and yet he called
himself a woman-hater—was it because some
fair-e ed creature had hit him hard in years
gone y? .

When the reader is led up to the prairie
cam -ﬁre Hart Hazel is speakin‘ .

“ 0, boys. the woman that Ishall marry
is not yet born.”

“Strikes me that puts the wedding oil a.
thundering long while!” exclaimed Mariposa
Sam, and followed up the jest by a su ges-
tion that perhaps a granddau hter he ad,

who was just cutting her teet 'might suit ’

him.

“ DO you know what kind of a girl you
want, yourself?" asked Black Charlie. as he
was called on the border, but whose real
name was Fred Haines; then he continued:

“My old woman. back in St. Louis, is a

rime article, I can tell you; but she's noth.
ng like the r1 I dreamed of a year before I
saw her. Its enough to make a monke
grin to see how youngsters change the :-
minds. Why, I used to think of a delicate
little chick, only wanting wings to make her
an an i, and my wife is a solid two hundred
poun er—how’s. that, Hart?”

“Keep on With your jests, but I mean
what I as . I have roved all over the world,
yet the ace that would draw me forever,
through water and ﬁre I have never yet seen.
I haye dreamed of it, perhaps, yes; but as I
have dreamed the face, it nowhere exists.”

" Come. now, Hazel, tell us your dream,”
cried Mariposa Sam-

For a moment Hazel looked thoughtfully
into the little bed of coals that lay near him
warm and glowing. He turned his head
away, then as sud enly brought his glance
back again upon the ﬁre, as though he saw
therein something which had caught his
attention.

 
“Wait a moment, until I reﬁll my pipe; ,‘

 
' a

'Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

13

 
then I may give you» a word-picture of my
ideal. It seems to me that I see her face just
now.”

“ Rather a hot place to look for her, my
boy. Ihopc it‘s not prophetic,”said Charlie,
but the rest frowned as though the poor joke
was distasteful, and a dead silence followed.

Ilart Hazel sat gazing into the coals, mo-
tionless and speechless His e 'es had a far-
away look. and his tongue did not move,
The rest looked curiously at him, and when,
from some movement upon his part they ex-
pected him to go on with the description he
had promised, he drew his blanket around
him in an apparent ﬁt of abstraction, and
with a muttered excuse that was but half un-
derstood, walked apart from the rest a few
paces, and threw himself heavily upon the
ground. There, with his head resting upon
a little mound, he closed his eyes as if for
slumber.

Hazel‘s actions did not seem particularly
displeasing to the rest. Perhaps they were
accustomed to strange freaks upon his part.
Only, from time to time. as they sat around
the ﬁre, they cast curious glances in his di-
rection.

Gradual] the conversation wandered
away in a ifferent channel, and before long
the desultory talk concerning their journey,
and the like, ended, silence coming down
upon and around the encampment.

An hour or two passed by

Toward midnight the slumbers of Hart
Hazel began to be of a disturbed nature. He
rolled and turned nervously, his brow wore
an expression of agony, his hands were
tightly clinched, his limbs drawn up in a
singu arly distorted position, while great
drops of perspiration stood upon his fore-
head. He groaned in his sleep, and seemed
to be in an agony almost mortal.

He turned from his back to his side,
straightened his limbs, stretched out his
hands, and in a strange, cracked voice
croaked out:

“ Haste, haste, haste!”

Then in altered tone, clear and distinct, he
exclaimed:

“ I am comin l”

He sprung to tie feet, and stood fully re-
vealed m the glimmering light of the camp-
ﬁre; the pained look was gone from his fea-
tures, and in its place was one of ﬁrm deter-
mination, as he stood half-bent, shading his
brow with his hand, and peering out through
the shade of cottonwood and willow, toward
the open plain that lay beyond.

“ Good heavens! can this have been only a
dream?”

As thus he spoke, in some respects coming
again to his senses, Burt Davis stood at his
5 de, and placing his hand upon the young
man’s shoulder said, in a sympathetic tone:

“ What‘s the trouble now, Hazel? Have
you gone mad, or did you hear something
suspicious? I thought heard you moaning
in your sleeg and I came to awake you.”

“Not ma , oh, no! And I’ve heard noth-
ing while in my senses. But I’ve dreamed a
dream—and such a dream! Here, sit down
and listen. I must tell it to some one, and to
who better than you, Burt, whom I know to
be a true man ?”

I CHAPTER XXII.
THE DREAM.

Awm) by [strange li ht that shone in the
eyes of the young manﬁhvis asked no ques-
tlons, but a lowed himself to sink down upon
the ground by the side of Hart Hazel, and
remained seated and regarding him with an
attentive look, while, under a stran e excite-
ment that seemed hardly warrante by the
circumstances, be poured forth his story.

"Tonight, when. we sat jesting by the
camp-ﬁre, 1 had a watch; nay, more, a reve-
lation. The cloud of prejudice, or ignorance
rolled back from before my 6 es, and I saw,
for the ﬁrst time in my life, believe, a pos-
sible ideal. I actually and truly saw the
woman I could love—3y, the woman for
whom I could die."

“ You kept mighty still about her, then “I”

“Yes, in that first moment of revelation,
inst when the fresh, sweet face. and soft

rown eyes beamed on me for the ﬁrst time
out of the, red coals of the campfire, as
though suddenly starting into distinctness

' from a mist, I felt it were sacrilege to drag
' , her beauty before the gaze of others, and at

once rolled my blanket around me and threw
myself down to dream of the vision.

“ I was frightened almost at its vividness,
and I wished to be alone to dwell upon it.
Then I sunk back into the shadows of dream-
land ~to ﬁnd it gone.”

“Queer, my boy. I too had my thoughts
at that same time. I too saw dimly hovering
above the dancing sheets of ﬂame a tiny
form, a delicate face. I saw the golden hair
and sweet brown eyes—but they belonged to
a little child. Ah, that face!”

It was now the turn of Hazel to look in
surprise at the weather-beaten face beside
him. Had he been less excited himself, he
‘ might have been thrOWn oﬂt‘ the current of
his thoughts by the apparent emotion so sud-
denl manifested by Davis.

“ see you have some history or mystery
‘ of your own. Feel for me then, as I tell you
more, although it’s onl a dream.”

“Ah, life is full 0 dreams—would that
there were no awakenings,” hoarsely whis-
pered Davis. “ I awoke from a dream once,
and was mad. With a word, almost, with-
out an effort on your part, you have called
back the memory of that madness. It lasted
longer than I care now to reckon. Pray
Heaven yours ma end more quickly.”

As he spoke, urt Davis gazed with a
strange stare into the eyes of the young
man.

Hazel came back to consciousness, as he
saw the effect produced upon his companion.
The cloud rolled away from his eyes, and his
pulse beat slower and more regularly. In
place of excitement came a steady calm.

1 “1 see 1 have unwittingly touched chords
, that 1 would not have suspected had any ex-
! istcnce. Your hand, Davis; but remember
1 that it means my story ﬁrst and a favor after-

wards. 1 have had m mad hour; yet it has
, given me a fortune. am owner now of a
i plantation." .
' “ How young you are, how innocent. Are
you alone, of all mankind, enriched with
such a dowry from fate? Phantom! Alas!
in every heart there dwells a skeleton
specter, to rattle its bones when the music
around is gayest. But your dream, Hazel,
your dream!"

“M dream—oh, es. It is time that I
recall it lest it shoul fade. It has enthralled
me, a willing captive, and I would not have
its memory vanish. I fell asleep, vainly
striviu to bring back to my mind the face
that I ad, for an instant, so clearly seen.
Then after some time, I saw the face again.
It was on the verge of a wide plain, just
when it melted away into a dense forest,
that I came back to consciousness. I rode
wearil along, my horse stumbled forward
with rooping head and trembling) limbs. I
was weary and sore and dyin of unger and
thirst it seemed. The 'trail fore me was
one I followed from instinct, and I had not
the stren th to note the signs that would
have tol me who made it.

“Suddenly my eye caught and compre-
hended something before me. Racked and
, tired as I was by my journev,which seemed to
have been interminable in length, a new life
and vigor appeared mgsteriously to be in-
fused mto m frame. halted my horse and
looked at t e trail before me with the
deepest interest. At one side pressed in the
sand, which just then seemed to retain them
with surprising tenacity, I saw footprints
that caused a thrill to dart through my
frame. Slender, delicate, shapely; they
were the marks made by a woman‘s foot, a
tiny foot, cased in a close ﬂtting moccasin.

“ The sight seemed to come like a revela-
tion. The interpretation of my journey lay
before me: through the desert I was press-
ing, to follow that footstep. I felt within
me stirring recollection, mad energy, wild
determination: it awoke the slumbering re-
solves of energy that nature had granted me.
I was trailing that face, that fairy, that

hantom, which ﬁrst ap red to me in the
light of our camp-fire this night.

“Just at the edge of the forest I saw it!

“For a moment I saw the fair-haired,
blue-eyed girl with an inviting smile on her
face gazing at me. Then she turned to ﬂee,
and as she did so my overtasked steed stum-
? bled and fell forward heavily.

“I leaped quickly to my feet; but the
vision was gone!

" I rushed forward. calling her name. I
do not know what that name was, butI‘re;

 
.“

 
member the mournful echoes of it that rung
through the lonely woods. I ceased to listen
and then came back a single answering
scream; then all was silent.

“The tiny footprints were before me and
I followed on, guided by their delicately dis-
tinct marks. Ahead the silence was again
broken; I heard the barks and yells of the
gaunt red buffalo wolf, and heard the
woman’s scream repeated. From the forest,
upon either side, I saw the broad footmarks
of the wolves as they had emerged from the
thickly standing trees and east themselves
upon the trail of the ﬂying woman. Was
she ﬂeeing? The brutes upon her trail had
bounded along as though under full speed;
if they once deemed that she ﬂed from them
what hope would there be for her?

“ As I pushed on with every nerve strung,
every muscle doing duty to the utmost I
heard a strange voice. Where it was from I
knew not. Its weird, harsh tones seemed to
be ﬂoating in the air, and it croaked:

“ ‘Haste, haste!’ _

“ ‘ I will haste!’ I shouted, while, as if in
response, I heard, still further beyond, from
the hidden depths of the forest 3 mingling of '
howl and yell.

“ ‘Haste, haste! Save her, save he'rl’

“ ‘ I m’ll save her—I am coming!’ 1 ﬂun '
back in response to the voice and again
made the forest resound with the name. ‘

“ Suddenly there opened before me a little
glade, an opening in the woods, round and
bare. Upon the further side, just replung- '
ing into the dense timber, I saw the woman.
Close behind her, and upon right and ‘left,
ran a pack of gaunt, grim wolves. ‘

“ I strained every nerve, shouted, cursed
at the cowardly brutes, and would have
called them back to me. I saw the leader
spring at the girl, and, halting, I threw my
still grasped riﬂe to my shoulder, to try the
awful risk of the (juick, long shot.

“ Then. Iauokc . "

CHAPTER XXIII. ' .

SWUNG LOOSE.
THE melodramatic recitation ceased, and
Hazel, once more deeply excited at the vision
recalled by his tale, looked with gleaming

eyes upon the face of Burt Davis, and up. , ,
Yet the abrupt  :-
y 

peared to await his response.
way in which he wound up his story hard
seemed to call for any extended remark. ‘

plainsman. or he had much more to say.
“And you are going?"

1' .-

 
\'
.,v
,"ﬁ

Either he trusted to the native wit of the old '. 

Thus tersely inquired the man, his face '

aglow with strange enthusiasm.

“To the death, if need be, I shall follow "

the trail. Have I not said, ‘I am coming?
Sleeping or waking, the word of Hart Hazel, . a
once pledged, is passed irrevocably. Are you ..
with me?” "
Davis drew his hand slowly across‘his eyes:
a thoughtful look corrugated his brows, and
when he answered his Voice had a reﬂned,,
yet a dreamy tone, apparently foreign to one ,
who, like the speaker, was a voyang to the «.
heart’s core. . ,
“With you—yes. Your dream is mine,,
too, though, alas, mine can have no reality.
“Recall the scenery to your mind, picture ' '
to me all the outlines of desert, forest and "
glade; perhaps I may yet recognize the spot ;
as one which my feet have visited in my‘
many wanderings. if not, there are Mara- 
posa Sam and Eph Dingle.
this land, there is scarcelya canyon, stream,
or prairie they have not visited. Perhaps
they might tell us which way to turn our 

   
2’!

To them, in all 

steps.” .

“The wa

ward.” said azel, pointing with his ﬁnger.

%
to turn our course is thither- 

7w

.l-.

“ Straight out through the. scattering trees,’« 

across yonder butts, and then on that line ex‘
tended, straight as the crow ﬂies. It was
just in that irection I faced when I sprung i
to my feet. As the dream faded away the,
butte, with its leafy crown arose; of the land 3

that lays beyond there I know nothing, but- 1;

it is the ground over which we are to jour- 
ne ." "
Z l have skirted the edge of the desert that‘.
lies in that direction, at the distancs of a two "
days’ march, but what ma be still further
on, I know not, nor have
“ We will‘learn.
nesses. We will risk its dangers. To-mm

   
- with the sunlight, we will seek the pm“

 
.5~

. «‘F
1‘

ever heard." W 4
We will brave its fast- 

  
AW???“ w «if Vi’ “ 1"" ‘

a is»:

‘ “'sx‘m
.,r€ V

..<~,'(-_.w. ...n......-._...

 
' skirting the timber-crowned butte.

14

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
1 ._ .- —-v~w.- .._. v—

we will swing loose upon the trail of the
dream!”

“ We will.
while?"

“ The train must take care of itself. That
is, we two will leave it. 1 shall hold myself
responsible for all loss, and if they cannot
take it through in safety, I doubt, even if we
remained with it, our hands and heads would
be suﬂicient additional force to secure its
safet .”

“ e are to start at sunrise. \Vell, then,
We had better seek what rcst we can gain to-
night yet. Upon that desert we may have
to journey ni ht and day. Go back to your
slumbers,.an let them be dreamless. At a
more convenient season I will tell you some-
thing of my past life, something. of my
dream, which may show you why it is
that, at a moment‘s warning, I am ready
to turn aside from what may be the path
of duty, and follow the footsteps of a man
I have known but a few weeks."

“You are mistaken; it is the path of duty
that you are about to pursue; and you shall
not follow, you shall lead. Upon you Icount
for aid, for knowledge; with your assistance

But what of the train, mean-

, r I shall succeed.”

“ In what?"

“Heaven alone can tell. It is enough that
I have promised. Yes. I am coming!”

, The two men then separated, each retiring
to his own couch, each soon falling into a
sleep more or less refreshing.

At daybreak the camp was astir. Great
was the surprise of Mariposa Sam when Burt
Davis placed in his hands the command of
the three wagons that composed the train,
with the orders which had been iven him
on starting from St. Louis from r anta Fe.
He looked curiously at Burt Davis, when

uestioned concerning the nature of the
desert beyond. and shook his head negatively.
Its depths had never been explored by him.

At the same time the command was accept-
ed unhesitatingly and unquestioningly, and
Sam saw the two men mount their horses and
ride away without comment. As the sun
fairly rose and cast its bright rays across the
plain, Hazel and his companion were already
A few
moments later and they were lost from the

I si ht of their late comrades.

hey had swung loose to trail a dream.

 
CHAPTER XXIV.
“mam, msrn, msrs!"

Fm days on the trail.
On either hand stretched the great wide

' desert, lapping around in the rear until river

and tree-crowned butte from whence they
started faded into the dark-blue streak of the
horizon.
In front, toward the close of the sixth day,
there arose, so suddenly that to the weary
wanderer, it seemed a phantom. or a mirage,
an unexpected oasis. that ﬂourished in gor-
us greenness in the very midst of the thirsty
esert.
Until the very moment when they stood
upon the brink of the depression which
contained it, the sight of Hazel and his friend

' had entirely over-shot it, and rested on the
s

barren san beyond.

“Good heavens! can this be a reality?"
‘exclaimed Hazel, at the unexpected sight
that lay before them.

“If it's a painted lie, it looks natural

\ enough to lead us straight down to death. If

it’s not water and feed, we are lost men. See,
old Barney scents the fresh leaves and the
cool water. Steady, boy, there may be
red-skins there.”

“‘Red-skins or not—here goes!” shouted
Hazel, and without further effort to check
‘,the progress of his steed, he started down
’into the little valley upon a run, Davis fol-
lowing close behind.

The entered the little charmed circle of
emera (1, they crossed the elastic, lovely car-
pet of turf, and in a momentjmore horsesand
men were sinking their thirst from a little

I . spring which. arising from the sand, filled a

little reservoir to overﬂowing, and after dif-
fusing moisture around for a few rods, lost
/ itself again in the sands of the desert that lay

 fbelow.

“Just in the nick of time,” said Hazel,

' after he had netted a long drau ht of the
V’ priceless ﬂui , which they hadso esperately
seeded.

‘ " Another day would have ﬁnished

 
us and our search together. What strange
good fortune this is. I begin to feel re-in-
spired; my waverin faith is revived. We
are on the right trail, and will yet be suc-
cessful.”

“ Better fortune than a gold-mine. Fling
off your saddle and bridle as quickly as you
can, and we‘ll let the poor beasts enjoy what
they hardly expected to reach to-night."

The hint was not lost upon lIart, who
roused himself from his lassitude and stripped
off the trappings of his animal and turned
the jaded creature 10050 to join Burt's steed,
Barney, who~was already cropping the short,
juicy grass beneath his feet. Then the young
man ﬂung himself down at the foot of a
short-stemmed, scrawny little cotton-wood.
which in some way had been planted there.

“ I'm too nigh done out to eat," said Davis,
as he drew out his pipe and proceeded to
light it. “ We’ll sit still and rest a bit till we
can ﬁnd room to drink again. It’s only when
one ﬁnds it scarce that he cares for water as
he Ought to.”

“ That’s so, Davis. And yet we should
have searched for traces of any visitors who
may have been near this place lately. By
morning the horses will have tramped them
out of all recognition."

“In the mornin we can ﬁnd any tracks
on the sand as we] as here.”

“ Provided some one on the sands now
does not ﬁnd us before that morning comes."

“ No danger of that. I took in the whole
place at a glanCe as I came up. You can be
sure that no living thing visits this spot, un-
leSS~b chance, and] will stand responsible
for all, dangers."~

The darkness was rapidly deepening dur-
ing this conversation. The little dingle lay
in shadow which the feeble starlight did not
illumine, and the moon had not yet arisen.
Tired and worn, Hazel did not care to argue
the question of prudence; indeed, he scarce-
ly cared to carry into execution his own sug-
gestion. When men have just come through
some heavy strain or deadly danger, is the
time that vigilance relaxes, or the body goes
but unwillingly to any necessary task.

When the two had partaken of such pro-
visions as they had with them, and had given
a hasty look through the few scrubby bushes
that grew around, they cast themselves once
more beneath the little cottonwood and re-
si ned themselves to slumber.

he two horses browsed around for a time
and made a hearty meal of grass and tender
leaﬂets. Then they also were silent. Through
all the little camp nothin could be heard
but the gentle rustling o? the night wind,
and the calm, regular breathing of the
sleepers.

Some hours passed by, and then the rest of
both of the men was disturbed by some un-
wonted sound. Burt rolled and turned,
Hazel moved as if something was oppressing
him. After a time he opened his eyes and
lay staring strai ht upward with that ﬁxed,
glassy look whic a sleeper, half—awakened,
will sometimes assume.

Suddenly there came rolling through the
camp the sound of a hoarse voice that
shouted:

“Ahoy, there! ,ahoyi Ship ahoyi”

There was no mistaking the sound. ‘ It
was no fragment of a dream. It was an ac-
tuality; a real, living sound that on the star-
tled air of night sounded loud enough to
wake the dead.

With a bound Hazel was on his feet, gaz-
ing around him, and immediately fell back a

ace or two, and placed his hand u on the
ock of his Henry riﬂe he had seize ’on ris-

iu .

gThree low, distinct warning growls fell
upon his ear, and the moonlight, now stream-
ing straight and full into the dingle, revealed
the long, gaunt bodies of three red, buﬂalo
wolves. that stood in regular line not a dozen
paces oﬁ, eying the two men with shun-

, curious stare.

Iazel was in doubt; he looked at the
wolves as at an apparition. Had they shout-
ed ahoyl or was he on haunted ground? He
thought to test their mortality, but just at
the’mstsnt that he threw his riﬂe to his
shoulder he heard footsteps beyond the ani-
mals, and the sweep and swirl of some one
runnin lightly through the bushes.

As t ough impelled by. one impulse of
thou ht the three heads before him gave a
simu tsneous movement. Six woiﬂsh eyes

' ﬁgure and pulled the trigger.

 
looked to their rear for a moment; then the
animals turned and bounded away.

Hart Hazel caught sight of a form ﬂitting
away from the little oasis. With a smooth,
gliding motion, it ascended the side of the
valley, never pausing, never looking back-
ward.

At this sight the young man changed the
direction of the muzzle of his weapon. As
best he could he drew a bead upon the ﬂying
‘ As he did so
the hand of Burt Davis struck the piece up-
ward and the shot hurtch harmlesst beyond
the fugitive. Almost at the same moment
he heard a strange noise in the air overhead
that caused him to give a rapid, upward
glance

“ Haste, haste, save her, save her!” croak~
ed a stran e voice.

Again] azcl's eye fell upon the fugitive.
The wolves were upon the track of the ﬂying
person. Throwing back short cries as the
ran, they drew nearer and nearer to the dar
ﬁgure, which had almost reached the visible
crest of the ascent. A few moments would
end the chase.

Just then the strange intruder gave utter-
ance to a sharp, shril whistle which was an.
swered by the neigh of a horse, and a mus<
tang dashed into sight from behind the cono‘
cealing crest of the rising land. Riderless
and uncontrolled, the mustang dashed down,
wheeled, and as the foremost of the wolf-herd
gained a springing distance, ranged itself be-
side the fugitive who, still at full speed, lay-
ing one hand upon the horse, lightly sprung
upon its back.

Mustang and rider swept out of sight, but
back from the desert was ﬂun the sound of
hoof-beats, ringing, now an then, clear
above the angry snarl and cry of the pursu~
ing wolves, while above Hart Hazel’s head
the strange voice croaked again:

“Haste! haste! save her! save her!”

CHAPTER XXV.
THE sscnnr mssron.

“ A HUNDRED dollars to the man who can
tell me what I would know about the Co.
manche country!”

The s eaker uttered the words in a room
crowde with wildlooking bordermen.

It was in a tavern in atown on the Rio
Grande, and the man who had entered the

 
‘room was a stranger to all present.

He was a man of powerful physique, a
dark, forei -looking face, and amanner that '
was reﬁne , in strange contrast to the un-
couth crowd about him, which boasted some
of the wildest and worst characters in Texas.

Where a chorus of voices might be expect-
ed to cry out, at an oﬁer so tempting, a,
silence followed. and all eyes turned upon
the one who wished to know about the Co~
manche country. .

He met their gaze calmly, and then asked:

“ Does no one here know the country
about the Devil‘s Canyon 7“

“ Where is Black Larry 7” cried a voice.

All looked about them, and 'ust then s
man came into the saloon, an in chorus
run out:

“ here’s Black Larry now!"

The man so named dropped his hand upon
a revolver, and facing the crowd said grim.

y“ Waal, who is it says shoot, pards?"

He was a thorough type of a borderman,
and he had not wholly expected trouble.

"It’s no shoot. Larry, but a pilgrim here
wants a man as knows the Comanche coun-
try, and all up about the Devil’s Canyon,
and we said as you was the one as did.”

“I knows it all, I guesses; but what’s
wanted?”

“I would like to speak with you, sir,”
said the stranger, advancing and calling
Black Larry to one side. '

“All ri ht, pards, let’s walk out whar
thar is fres air, ’ said Black Larry, and the
two went from the saloon, as soon as the
stran er had ordered “ drinks set up for the
crow .”

This act of generosity caused him to be
set down at once as a gentleman,

“Well. in friend, what do you know
about the evil's Canyon 7” asked the
stranger, when he had walked out to a.
fallen tree and taken a seat upon it.

“ They say its haunted, pard.”

“ I have heard of such nonsense; but do,
you believe it?" I

 
' tation.

Hark iKentgn, the Traitor.

15

 
._____.—_.____.
.__._.._~_.._.- . .. .. .

“I on] b’lieve what I sees."

“ You ave seen nothing there to cause
you to fear going there ?”

“ I didn’t say that.”

“ What did you say?”

“ I’ve seen and heard strange things up in
thet kentry, and thar is goin’s on thar I has
no sense to squar’ up."

“ What is done there?”

“ Waal, thar is trails that o’ a strange
kind, and I has heerd shots ﬁred, but c’u'd
never ﬁnd ther shooter, while ther Injuns
is afeerd ter go thar, sayin’ it are ther home
0’ ther Evil Spirit.”

“ But you go up through that country?"

“I hain‘t ventured inter Devil‘s Canyon."

“But you might?"

“’I‘har’s no tellin’ what a man mou’t do,
pard. ef he were put to it.”

“ You are a hunter, I believe?”

“ Waal, yes, I hunts, guides some, traps
when pelts is prime and shoots lnjuns, when
they needs it.”

“ And you are willing to go?”

“ How much is it worth?"

“ A few hundred pesos now, and more
when successful."

“ And what is to he did?”

“I can trust you?”

“Waal, I guesses you’ll hev to, if yer wants
work did.”

“ It is a most important matter ter me.”

“Likely, as yer is willin’ ter pay big fer
it.”

“Now there is somethingI wish you to
ﬁnd out for me, and to do.

“ Are you afraid of a little blood-letting?"

“ You mean my own blood?"

“ No, another’s?”

“ My record don’t show I is nary skeert at
blood spillin’, or afeerd to spill my own
when it comes to it."

“ You are the man I want.”

"And I wants your gold, so I guessas we
kin strike a bargain.”

“ No doubt of it.”

“ But what’s ter he did?”

“Get a thorough outﬁt, and go into the
Devil's Canyon country and camp there.

“ Pretend to be hunting, trapping, anything,
only keep your eyes open a l the time to do
my work.

"When it is done I will pay you hand-
some] .”

“ har’ll I ﬁnd yer?”

“I come there in search of you, so give
me an idea as to where you can be found.”

“All right, pard; but now what is I ter
do?"

The stranger looked cautiously about him,
and then stepping nearer to Black Larry told
him in a low tone his reason for sending him
into the countr about the Devil's Canyon,
where he woul have to face the deadliest
dan ers.

T e next day Black Larry started upon his
solitary trail.

—

CHAPTER XXVI.
BLACK LARRY.

BLACK LARRY in substance was a trapper,
after the batchelor-bearer order. He mined
far and wide, and in the wmter, when pelts
were prime, could generally be found far to
the Northwest. When summer came he very
stran ely steered a different course. Then
the gSouthern plains seemed to allure
him. and, like the lazy vagabond that he was,
he basked in the warm sunshine from the top
of some wagon, belonging to a train, whose
master was only too lad to get his valuable
company ; or he wan ered out alone. or with
a comrade, to 'live at ease and comfort in
some unexplored. game-supplying fastness
of the wilderness. He was a trapper-tramp
of questionable character and uncertain loca-
tion.

Black Larry had made for himself a soli-
tary camp near the borders of a stream, and
was spending the hours apparently at his
ease. True, e wandered far from the camp
that he made his headquarters. but he seemed
to have no particular aim in view. The
beaver ﬂoated unmolested in his dam, and
the otter crawled u and slid down the banks
in joyous safet . ow and then a buﬂalo
or an antelope ell, but it was to furnish food.
Pelts were no longer prime, and hides were
not worth'the labor and expense of transpor-
Evidently Black Larry was rusticat-

g.

 
Larry was a taciturn man, moreover, as
might readily be surmised. from a brief con-
sideration of his habits. He might have had
schemes with “ millions in them” when he
left the last trading-post, and he would have
said nothing of them. As the reader has
found that there was some ulterior aim in his
thus seeking solitude, he need not be sur-
prised.

It was again near sundown when Larry
came back one day, toward his humble little
hut. He had been absent since early in the
morning, and he was returning empty-hand-
ed.

llc (lid not worry on that account. He had
killed a buffalo the day before. and taken
some choice cuts into camp. The stream
near by would furnish water, and he had a
supply of coffee. Under the cioudless sky
he could sleep through the night, if need be.
and so he felt rather light-hearted and free of
all care.

As he neared the carefully concealed cabin
he dismounted, and, leaving his horse some
little distance in the forest, advanCed with a
caution that was habitual Upon returning
home. He looked to, the right hand and the
left in order to catch the earliest possible
glimpse of anything that might betokcn dan-

er '

Something not altogether expected seemed
to strike his attention, and his caution was
redoubled. He moved forward on the very
tip-toe of care, and held his riﬂe at a ready.

By and by a savory smell saluted the olfac-
tory organs of the tired and hungry man.
He turned his head this way and that, and
knew he could not be mistaken. Some one
had kindled a ﬁre right upon his own hearth-
stone, and was cooking upon it some of his
buffalo-meat.

He judged that it was his meat, since he
thought that any one who had the impudence
to occupy his camp would not stop at test-
ing the quality of his larder. It remained to
be seen who this unknown visitant or visi-
tants could be.

Black Larry parted the bushes careful]
with one hand and gazed through the ri t
thus made. His other hand held his riﬂe,
ready for instant use.

He started back with ever
surprise. Then, with a bro
face, he looked again.

Noiselessly as he moved, the person who
had thus intruded, unasked, upon his prem-
ises, had been alarmed, and looking up, met
his gaze; as if by instinct knowing exactly
where to look.

Then Larry stepped out of his covert and
moved with all the swa ger of a bravado to-
ward the person kneeling by the ﬂre. If it
had been a man or an elephant, Larry would
have acted inoexactly the same way. But it
happened that this person was a woman.

“ Minks an' muskratsl hind‘ sights an’
trigger guards l—what’s these yere goin‘s
on?’

The woman rose and faced him bravely.
She did not seem to be at all alarmed at his
rough visage and frowning brow, but frank-
ly met his scowl with a smile that should
have disarmed resentment or led villainy
captive. .

“ I cry you mercy, worth hunter, if I
have cast myself u u an unwi ling host. It
is but seldom that trouble in that way.”

“ ‘ Trouble,’ my young patch of squaw-
grass. What d’yer mean invadin’ the camp
0’ the royal grizzly from the mounting that s
jist rolled down on wheels. Hyar are reech-
ness. By the west send 0' ther Rockies, ef
ther gal ain’t chosed the very partikelar j'int
I war countin’ on makin’ my supper on. an's
deevourin' it afore my very eyes. Hev yer
got a dead open an’ shut thing on life, as yer
come into my camp an’ out up yer monkey
didoes afore me?"

“The matter of a ound or more of buf-
falo-meat and a sti or two of dr wood
will hardly ruin you, Sir Trapper. oming
from out of the desert, after a long and hasty
ride, I took the nourishment that dro ped to
my hand. If you must be so churlis , what
have you to say about it?"

The girl looked at the trapper with an open
look of fearless _ innocence that was in per-
fect accord with her words. She gelled him
to the very quick with the sang froid with
which she treated his threatenin words and
gestures. While Larry spoke s e went on
eating. His dramatic points were lost up0n

indication of
grin upon his

\,
a
\

 
her, and she evidently intended, welcome or
unwelcome, to ﬁnish her meal.

Larry laid down his riﬂe, stooping as he
did so. As he rose, there ﬂashed upward
from his leggin, with a wonderful ﬂourish, a
broad-bladed bowie-knife.

“ D’yer want yer ha‘r cut fur nuthin’ that
yer cum foolin’ ’round ther camp of a lone
buﬂler? Come forrads, my leetle peraire
chick, an’ stand hyar, while yer Uncle Lar
takes a squint at yer. No slohberin‘ ’roun ,
neither. l’m suddint death on all cryin‘
weemen."

Larry frowned at the delicate girl, brand-
ished the knife in his right hand, while he
drew the edge of his left hand in a signifi-
cant gesture across his throat.

The girl looked up into his face and lau h-
ed amerry, ringing laugh. She shook er
superbly poised little head and a shower of
ringlets ﬂashed a stream of golden light
athwart his gaze.

“Fearful man, I defy you.
is a joke. I came like a phantom, I shall go
like a dream. You have entertained an angel
unwillingly and unawares; your reward will
come some day.

“Put up your knife and say good-by; I
am going.”

Larry looked at her in astonishment and
anger.

“ I sw‘ar I b’l’eve she’s laughin’ at me!”

The great, liquid blue eyes of the woman
fell upon him full, and he saw in them a dis-
dainful light, while 1) r red, full lip curved
in an yscorn. Maddened by the manner
of this singular girl. Larry sprung forward
with his hand outstretched to clutch her.
She eluded his grasp, and with an accent
of fear well feigned, if feigned it was, ex-
claimed:

“Your pardon, friend hunter, do not harm  '1

me, for I am a weak woman!”

“ Cuss yer weak women, generally, the‘r’
at ther bottom of all devilment whar there’s
no red-skins consarned!”

Again the woman sprung to the side, clap- ‘ ‘

ping her hands together thrice.
“ Death, Head, and Thighbones!" .

As she uttered this'st-range exclamation she,  ‘
again clapped her hands three times, and run-

ning lightly eluded the now maddened trap-

per, as though she were a shape born of the 

811’.

Larry heard some sounds foreign to the .

spot, and halted, turning toward where his
riﬂe lay. As he did so, three wolves, 12:5
and nut, leaped through the bushes

halte a few yards 01! with their eyes fasten-

ed upon himself and the girl.
She waved her hands.
Instantly the wolves separated. Crouch-

ing, cowardly skulking. yet a parentl mag- 
im on  '-

netized into courage, the ankcd
either side, and one stood in front, their u -
per lips wrinkled in a savage manner, th

tongues, red and dripping, lolled out, and J

Your threat .

 . , 

their eyes roved quickly from himself to the 

girl and then back again. At the same time.
snatching up a bow from the ground whens=

it had lain unperceived, with magical quické ,
ness the strange woman ﬁtted an arrow to 
the string, and drawing it to the head with a, V

powerful sweep, she exclaimed:

man!"

 
CHAPTER XXVII.
A wanma.

FOR a moment the surly trapper may

rioted in suppressed anger.

The wolves crept up uncomfortahl near, 

” Hands down, trapper, or you are a 

 
and he had an unpleasant suspicion t at thefﬁ‘ 

muscles of the young woman might fail her
suddenly. In that case the iron-headed are
row, that pointed at him from a dangerous]
near how. would doubtless make a doub
hole in his garments. From the ve

wain."

which the bow crooked back in its nd ng,  .

he doubted not that the arrow would pierce
him through and through.

Larry's left side was nearest the i. In' 
bringing his righthand down, at t e stern ,x ._ 1'
mandate which closed the preceding chap-‘ "'

ter, he endeavored to let the foreﬁnger and
thumb of that hand draw, on passant, the ire;

volver which swung provokingly handy on jg.“

that side.

“Halt, therel None of that, my brawnyi Z

.
A

trapper. No more weapons until we arrange

our relations toward each other a little 
definitely. What have you to say why :I

 
1

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l

I

 
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 .1163 i

...:-7v.;..
'2 A .

 
Hark lienton, the Traitor.

 
16

 
should not pierce you with this arrow, or
launch my pet lambs upon you? Look! A
word from me, and Death—Head, and Thigh-
bones would sink their teeth deeply in your
.sulky carcass."

The ringing notes of the girl’s voice began
to exercise the demon of wrath. Their ﬂow-
ing melody had its effect, and his dark face
brightened.

“ Canyons and cattermounts! my leetle
angel, whar in all paradise did yer kim from?
Larry Delain is treed an' comes down, so

guiet them lambs 0’ yourn an' tork sense.

i

lacken up that string. er p'int yer arrer jist ‘
a leetle slantindickerler in a t‘other d‘rcction,~

an’ I give yer the honest word Hi play yer
fair."

In accordance with this overture upon the
part of the trapper the young girl allowed
the bow to slowly straighten; but kept it

I held in readiness for instant use upon the

ﬁrst suggestion of treachery or bad faith.

“ You have rufﬂed your feathers up very
needlessly and acted like a. brute. From
[your actions Ican hardly say whether you
are a villain, or a great, tearing, swearing
braggadocio. What had I done that you
shou (1 act so violently? Had I been a weak
and unprotected female would you have
harmed me, or mistaking me for such, was

it only your intent to give me a good scare a

for intruding upon your solitude? I hope
It was the last.”

Larr Delain seated himself composedly
upon t e ground and looked in an abstracted
way at the questioner. There was nothing
oﬁensive in his look and the girl submitted to
his silent scrutiny without remark. When
he had ﬁnished taking his inventory he gave
a great yawn, and exclaimed abruptly:

“ Durn all pesky wecmen, anyhow!“

The other gave a merry little laugh.

“So. You are a woman-hater? You

i ‘went into a hot rage at the ﬁrst sight of a

feminine in your camp I am sorry for you.

' . I know very little about the gentle sex, to

. be sure, but I don‘t think they are to be so

T r cavalierly'spoken of, and I am afraid some

t

particular spite at one of them has put you
out of conceit of the whole class. Well, it's
a pity. You must own that I have kept my
courage and my temper very fairly under the
' trial ' on have given them, and perhaps if
on 'nk over it you will feel ashamed of
6 way in which you treated a wandering
girl who, by an unusual chance, found her~
v. self half-starved and sought your hospi-
tality."
- “Oh, cuss the horsepi-tolities all up in
A pettycut kin talk the bark eﬂ‘n a
wh te-pine stump ef yer gi’n her tongue a
'- chance to woa‘gle; but yer can't make nothin’
outen Larry Delain but what be are. Stopl
,Ef e'r’ goin’, 'ist one Word. What mou’t
be t e handle t e call yer to grub by?"
The desire for ourish was not altogether
gone from the heart of the man. When the

‘ I ' r1 looked down upon him to answer, he sat

in an expectant attitude picking his

3 ‘teeth composedly with his nineoinch bowie.

 
C-Once he glanced thoughtfully toward the
wolf furthest oﬁ. .
“That is a fair sign of repentance, but I

 doubt‘if I ever give you occasion to call me

'(ju
g aneaset

 
to our table again. If you do have need,
me Florence. And now, trapper, I am

' oing; beware how you follow me. I doubt
f you wish. to kill me—remember that any

. more folly on your part, or sign of designed

molestation, and one of us dies.
lambs, this way, come."

The three wolves were still squatted around
the trapper, whom they]r eyed askance as
thou h he was a puzzle t at they would very

neg like to pick to pieces in the solving.

ing thus addressed, they delayed not a

moment, but sprung in front of their mis-
. trees and made their way toward the neigh-
boring ed e of the forest.

' Againt 0 girl halted. The sounds of a

Come, my

’  horse approaching at a gallop fell upon her
 ears, an

she awaited the result of the inter-
ruption. -
A magniﬁcent mustang dashed into view,
",threadin his way throu h the timber with
hat never once a lowed an uneven-
, fines of his pace. The mustang was a beauti-
ﬁtul brown stallion. with a broad white blaze
" ' nhis face. a white stocking on his of!
ii le , and with long. ﬂowing mane and
 Ngelther saddle or bridle had ever, ap-
--¢ “only, been upon this magniﬁcent animal,

 
{which seemed to be a wild, free mustang
g from the plains.
} Larry Delain scrambled toward the spot
;where his riﬂe yet lay. There is a savage
I viciousness about some of them single going
rwild stallions that will make even an old
. plainsman look to his lines of defense when
they make their appearance.
l “Halt there, trapper; it is my friend, and
,he brings news that may be of service to
you. What is it, Starlight?”
; The mustang thus addressed halted, tossed
T its head and gave an impatient stamp with
its forefoot.
“Ah, some one comes and you think it
5 time that we be off. Well, well, steady, my
i boy, in a moment.”
i h

is was said to the horse. Then turning
'to Delain, who was standing viewing the
:beautiful mustang with an admiring and
v perhaps a covetous eye, she continued:
I “ Starlight, here, is one of my scouts,
guides and pickets. Just now he tells me
'that some one is approaching. From his
I actions I judge that those who come are 'In-
‘ dians. and of a tribe unknown, perhaps un-
I friendly. Look well to your scalp then; and
if you have no particular business to keep
F you here I would advise that you beat a sud-
' den and careful retreat. Good-by, and may
you be in a less churlish humor should we
l meet again. Come, Starlight."

The steed obeyed the wave of her hand.
It turned as with graceful bounds she reached
its side.

For a moment Florence ran by the side of
the animal with her right hand resting across
his shoulder. Then. light as a feather she
ﬂoated up. and lighted upon his back.

Larry Delain looked on in amazement.
She had told him that she had come like a
phantom and would go like a dream; now
he believed her. Before he had fairl mas-
tered his surprise she gave a gracefu wave
of her hand, another smiling shake of her
3 head, and was gone.

 
CHAPTER XXVIII.
SINGULAR scours.

WHEN the strange young irl left the pres-
ence of Black Larry she arfvanced straight
toward the not very distant edge of the
timber, for the purpose of investigating
whatever might have alarmed her mustang.
She went forward as far as was possible, and
at the same time have the beneﬁt of the con-
cealing shade.

Here she paused and looked vainly around,
at the same time calling in a low to‘ne:

“ Susan, Susan!”

There was no response; across the wide
plain, as far as her eye could reach, there was
nothing in sight.

Again she called, and again there was no
answer.

A troubled look swept across her face.
Tapping her horse softly upon the neck, she
exclaimed:

“ Starlight, good steed, pray tell me where
is Susan?"

The animal seemed endowed with almost
human intelli ence. He appeared to even
understand this address, since he threw' his
head back and ave a low whinng, which
. may or may not iave been intende to con-
ve the desired information. Having done
this, Starlight stretched out his lean, brown
head in the direction of the plain, and moved
a step or two forward, as if to indicate that
something in that direction demanded the at-
tention of his mistress.

“ Gone, you say? What a pity it is, old
fellow, that you have no intelligible voice.
“ With all your training and all our intelli-
gence, you are but a horse after al , and some-
times I understand you but badly. What is
it on wish to say just now i”

he animal made a movement or two of its
lips, and gave utterance to a slight sound,
that was just the whisper of a neigh. Havin
done this, he turned so that his head pointe
in a direction almost parallel with the boun-
dary line of the timber, and showed plainly
that his wish was to be gone.

Still she saw nothing before her to give her
any uneasinessu When she listened, her
sharp ears heard but one sound that seemed
worthy of her attention. and that she felt al-
most certain was made by the tra er from
whom she had so lately parted. vidently
he {was mounted, and was coming cautiously

 
in her direction, impelled thereto by the
warning she had given him.

For this she could not blame him; but it
was not her intention, for the present, at
least, to enter again into conversation with
Black Larry if she could possibly avoid it.

Without delay, then, she allowed her horse
to follow the evident bent of his wishes, and
started northward.

Ilardly had she vanished from sight when
Larry Delain made his appearance at the spot
where she had halted.

The trapper moved cautiously, for the
warning given by the girl had not been lost
upon him. His own powers of observation
were sufficient to convince him that the
white-faced brown stallion had perceived
something of a suspicious nature, and he was
too wary to pass by such a fair notice.

His own horse was also exceedingl well
trained and could be trusted. Accord‘ingl ,
the hunter felt his way cautiously to the sout ;
in that direction alone could there be con-
cealed danger; to the right there was a sweep
of the timber, beyond which an army of fees
might be advancing, and yet remain unseen.
Leaving, then, his horse, Delain crept cau-
tiously along the sweeping curve, out to the
projecting point of this timber promontory.

After he had looked vainly for some time,
striving to learn in which direction might lie
the menacing danger, he was surprised to see
at some distance out upon the plain, a small
troop cf wolves wandering idly southward,
apparently without any particular aim or ob-
jcct.

Upon a. moment's reﬂection he was con-
vinced that these were the identical friends
whose acquaintance he had made a short time
since—Death, Head, and Thighbonesl

“A queer set of names those fer a queer
trio,” and he studied their antics with much
more of interest than he was accustomed to
devote to the lupine species.

The wolves caracoled along gayly enough
for a time. As they passed the spot where
Delain was concealed they halted for a. mo-
ment and focused their noses upon the spot
with a unanimity that was alike surprismg
and uncomfortable. Larry had, indeed, for
a moment, an idea that they were about to
charge him. Three ordinary wolves he
would not have minded; but three educated
and enlightened wolves dropping in upon a
lone man at one time needed attention. It
was well that they gave a contemptuous suit!
and gallo ed away. Theay were Just within
range of glack Larry’s ri , and in a moment
more he would have forgotten all about Co-
manches, and let go.

Delain saw them pass on with a sigh of
relief. Not that he was afraid of the animals.
His desire was to see whether the stran e
troop was scouting, and if he could learn the
resu t of their investigations.

Suddenly the wolves halted again. They
turned the axes of their noses toward a point
in the timber line as straight as the needle
swings to the North Star.

Then sitting in a crescent the three lifted
up their heads and ave a lugubrious whine.

“ Ho, ho!” chuc led Larry to himself.
“ Ther creetur’s cunningness kims inter
play ri ht sassy. Thar’s whar ther danger
lays. ow is it Injun er white, friend er
foe? I’ll hcv to scout up that way and ﬁnd
out myself.”

Black Larry and the three wolves for a
time watched the spot in partnership. As
nothin appeared, t e duty became irksome
to hot parties, and presently the animals

turned as if to center back. Before they had ‘

gone a rod they stopped and turned their
noses directly up the wind. Evidently they
scented something that was et out of sight.

They showed their sagaCity, however, by
making no pause. Whatever might be com-
ing in that direction would be visible to their
young mistress as quickl as to themselves.

n reality their task was Jone. and they once
more were on the move. scurrying away with
all the natural want of dignity common to
their species.

“ Somethin’ comin’ over thar, too. The
lines is a-drawin’ in, an’ chance to make
it right livel accordin’. Them’ll keep,
an’ the investin‘ goes to them around the

turn. “Hold on, though. Look' at them
condarned varmints. What’s in the wind
now?"

0
This exclamation was caused by seeing the
wolves suddenly returning. They

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17

 
by at full speed, and obliqued to the left,
striking for a point something like half a
mile away, out upon the plain, where lay the
carcass of a buffalo, slain a day or two before
by Delain. . .

At first the trapper thought it was their in-
tent-ion to gorge themselves with the meat
which remainet there in plenty.

But no. The wolves made a wide circuit
and then went racing back. Impelled to a
close scrutin ' by these antiCs, Larry Delain
brought his een eyes to bear upon the spot
—and not without a result.

“ Bullets an’ b‘ars, thar's a red-skin’s top—
knot just ahind the buﬁler’s corpus," he cried
with some excitement of manner.

CHAPTER XXIX.
LARRY MAKES A DISCOVERY.

THE discovery of the fact that a savage In-
dian was probably hiding behind the carcass
of the buffalo Was sufﬁcient to give to Black
Larry an idea of who might be concealed in
the timber below At last he fancied that
the Indian would hardly be exercising so
much caution unless he was keeping an eye
upon some of his natural enemies—white
men.

Keeping this Indian under a general sort
of espionage. by frequent glances through the
timber, Delain moved with every symptom
of care in the direction of the spot where he
felt assured he would ﬁnd white men en-
camped.

The trapper soon found that he had not
been mistaken in his calculations. In the
course of a very few moments he approached
a camp which had been made less than an
hour before, by its present occupants.

Moving cautiously, Delain was able to get
within earshot without being perceived, and
at the sound of the voiccs he then heard he
went boldly yet silently forward. Without
a word of warning or announcement he sud-
denlv appeared before the speakers.

His appearance seemed to cause a mo-
mentary ﬂurry of excitement. Unmoved by
the sudden click of the locks of several riﬂes,
he glanced contemptuously around him and
turning to the man who seemed to be the
leader exclaimed with a laugh:

“ Pierre Roscaro you've come yerself, have
yer? Ef this yere is the way camp's kept

’ll hev the mournful pleasure of totin’ back
yer outﬁt to trade on tombstones. “With
Comanch’ arOund and danger a-blossomin’,
ye hev an all-ﬁred keerless way 0’ placin’ yer

ay-out.

“ Larry Delain, is that you? You startled
us with your sudden appearance and it is a
chance t at you did not receive a death-shot.
while thus saulking up on the camp. Hank
Meyers, our guide, is out scouting fer Co-
manche, of which he thought he saw sign,
and we had cam’pedhere fer the night. At
all events we have found you f"

“Glad to hear yer say so. R’lieves my
mind. Thort it was me found you. You
couldn’t trust me to do my work, an’ kim up
to take a hand in it yerself. Good! I'm
glad on it. Take the job right now, plum
on the spot. I resigns.

“ Don’t get exerted, Larry, I meant no dis-
res ect or want of confidence. I came my-
sel in conse uence of some new develop-
ments; and 0 course I didn’t care to come
Sit down, man, and be comfortable;
tell us what progress you have _made and I
will ‘ve yon‘ further instructions. Hank,
Cuba as here, and myself will all jom _m ae-
complishing the work, which, Without
meaning any reﬂection on your ability, I
think you would ﬁnd rather too much for
one man.”

“ Settin’ around just now ain’t exactly in
my line, an' about the time Hark comes in
it won't be in yourn neither. Thar‘s more
ner Comanch’ “sign"’-I’ve see‘d 'em.
The 've nosed out yer camp a'ready an’ one
on the red devils hes. his eye on this yere
spot at this blessed mmmt.”

This declaration caused some excitement.
The three men. it once detected by a hostile
band' of Comanches, would present no such
imposing array of force as would impress
them with the actual danger to be met with
in attempting their capture. And just then
Indian troubles were exactly what they did
not desire. since it would prove a decided
hindrance to their further and successful

rations. ,
op‘e‘ You take it coolly enough. Why did

\

 
A Hark KentOn, the Traitor.

 
you not give us warning when you ﬁrst en-
tered camp? While we have been standing
here talking our scalps might have been
taken.”

“ Sell Black Larry for a fool, will yer?

I’ve hed an eye on him, an’ he’s still a-lyin’
where I left him safe and sound. When I
see the danger gettin‘ a ugly look I won‘t be
back’ard a-tellin’ on you. Hyar, take a
squint out torrad that dead bufﬂer on the
)lain.
I “ Thar’s whar the thing lies. Thar’s a
Comanche in full paint layin’ low thar. He
winded yer scent an hour ago an’ got that
fur torrads the timber, an’ can't get no fur-
der. He’s waitin’ fur it to get dark enough
to crawl in, I reckon.”

“ lf there is only the one there, would it
not be best for us to take some means to
quiet him? There are others near to whom
he should not be allowed to carry his infor-
mation.”

“ Mou't ‘a’ done it of I'd know’d adzactly
who war in this Camp, but couldn‘t reesk
pullin' on him till I found out.
yer bottom dollar he's not here fur nothin’,
an’ he’s more of his tribe somewhar handy
ahind him.”

“ Could it be possible—do you think that
their object could be the same as ours?”

“ Can't say as I know percisely what yer
object kin e at present. Ther’s a bit of
boss-ﬂesh, howsomedever, that ’d fotch the
hull tribe a hundred mile to rake in ct they
ever «met set eyes on it.”

While thus conversing Delain had drawn
the two men to the edge of the timber.
With care they concealed themselVes as they
advanced, until, after some little time. the
others were able to see the tip end of the
feathers in the head-dress of the Indian scout
who was lying in ambush.

“ It’s too long a shot for old Roamer,” said
Delain, patting the butt of his riﬂe; “though
I‘ll tr it cf you say so. Best plan,‘though,
I’ll al ow ’u'd be to let him "lone fur a time.
Give the critter a chance to develop. Maybe
Hank ~ll stillvhunt him an’ tote in his scalp-
lock. Nothin‘ lost by not bein' in a hurry.
Now about this yere busineSs o‘ ourn. How
about the gal?"

“ Yes, how about it. As I tell you, there
have been some later developments which
make a difference in the manner of carryin
out our little agreement. First let me as
you, have you succeeded in ﬁnding any trace
of her in this region?”

“ I hev—an’ she's a ripper. Re ’lar angel
on a whirlwind, Smart as a gray- caded ot-
ter, an’ quick as a wolf-trap."

“And you have actually seen her?”

“ Yer is right. Seen her, took her, skeerd
her—an“ let her go.” ,

“(IarmnbuP' uoth the other. “ You let
her go? Larry Delain, you, would not dare
to play me false, would you? ’

“ Easy with yer Mexican cuss-words. Kin
I hold greased lightnin’? Ef she war com-
mon kind 0’ gal-meat she‘d hardly be worth
the huntin’ of. Ketch her yerselt ef yer
think I’m wentin’ back on yer.”

" What do you mean, then, by telling me
that after the trouble and expense and dan

“Jist a minute. Bizness over thar. I'm
keepin’ an eye on that Comanch’, an’ there‘s
astirrin’ in the waters that means suthin’."

There seemed to be some reason in the sud-
den interruption. The most careful gaze
failed to distin uish any trace of the scout,
who had but ately been ensconced behind
the carcass. He seemed to have wormed
away without attracting attention. and Black
Larry looked in vain in every direction. The
Comanche was not in sight.

Roscaro looked at the trapper with a glance
that was almost suspicious.

H I wish Meyers would come. I do not
understand why you allowed that Indian to
esca e without an effort at least, to prevent
it. hat shall we do now ?"

“Wait on Hank Meyers, in course, and
kee our eyes peeled. What was the us't
sculinn’ the red critter, anyhow? Ef they
ain’t strong they mayn't bother us, onless
they see chances to stampede our corral. Lift
one on ’em’s ha'r, an’ see ef they ain’t a-pop-

pin' away at us cl‘ar from hyar to the nearest ‘

settlement. Hark! thar's somethin’ goin’on
now."

Far away beyond the spot where the Co-

manche had been lying, they heard the rattle

Yer kin bet l

l of horses‘ hoofs, and saw, in the gathering
, twilight, a number of dark forms charging
' across the plain in the direction from which

came the wind, and where. in the distance.

. two horsemen appeared. pushing on a pair
of jaded horses and heading straight for the
spot where the anxious watchers. were
stationed.

 
CHAPTER XXX.
HOPE DEFERRED.
WE left Hart Hazel and Burt Davis stand-
ing at midnight in their camp listening to

hoof-strokesthat were rapidly dying away

in the darkness.

Hazel was the more excited; perhaps Davis
was the most deeply moved,

The young man ran toward his horse,
which was near by, and loosening him from
the lariat, leaped upon his unsaddled back
and. with drawn revolver in his hand, darted
out upon the trail.

Davis remained standing under the little
cottonwood. He shouted once or twice to
his companion to come back, and receivin
‘ no answer, seated himself upon the groun , ,
with his face resting in his hands. After a
time he heard Hazel returning slowly, and
apparently full of thought.

“ No use to ask you what you have seen?"
said Davis, as Hazel halted by his side.
“ Dismount, put away your horse and retire
to slumber again. It will be time enough
in the morning to talk over this strau e in-
terruption. I think that there is no anger

that the intrusion will be repeated—for this 

night at least.”
“ Sleep! I cannot sleep! What think you
is the meaning of this? Who was it that!

came into our camp, and why did she 3

come?"
“ What word did you use ?"
“ She.”
“ 81w .9”
“ Yes, I am right. It am a woman.

‘Haste! haste! save her! save her!’ There is
more in this singular journey than I had
dreamtd of. Think you that these were ma- '
terial forms—or may they not have been but

heard of such things.
but a mirage, think?
moment lying, dying upon the desert. Do
night at sunset?”

At this strange suggestion of Hazel’s, Davis
shuddered.

Yet he did not so far give way to the ex- 

held closer to

citement of the moment. He
His brain was

steady. every-day realities.
not

hinged by shade or phantbm.

" When we see what we cannot explain, 'j
we are apt to explain more than we see.- _
Again I say. let us sleep, and with the morn- ;
ing light we will take up the trail, which. be- ..

lieve me. is there. We will haste. We will
save her. From what, we will know in due
season.”

“Ay. but the- wolves. They were close . l‘
upon her track. When morning comes they ,
may have left nothing but a few crushedg

bones."‘ .
“ Never fear. There is something strange“

in all this, but the danger that menaces he! '_
I have '

is not— of the wolves. I see now.
heard of this singular being. Only once or"
twice; but often enough to recognize that the
strange story told me by a man, who trapped ,
through the streams to the Southwest one

winter, may be true. If so, you need not

' i

fear."

“ Do you think it is she?” . 
I k ‘

Davis nodded solemnby. 2,
‘1 Yes. It is she; t e woman of your:
dream. Something has put us upon her trail;
though God only knows why. Once we
have made a ﬁnd, there is no danger that w.

shall be thrown off. Again I say, let us 

 
while we may; perhaps it may be how
we ﬁnd the opportunity again. The d .
stretches out far and wide around us." '  w

“Yes. but we can certainly follow the

i That must lead either to another camping.
1 ground or to the Rio Pecos. "-

day the ground that would take us two."

“Sleep be it, then, and Heaven send 

more dreams.‘ , _
“ Amen!" solemnly responded the richer.

l .

you remember how we were suffering last ,

,trail which we know now lies before 

“ Only that her mustang can cover in one 

 
the phantoms bred in frenzied brains? I have 1 '- 3
May not all this he  ,
Perhaps we are this . - ‘

rone to send him wandering in the . ‘-
clou s, and so he was not so liable to be un- . _

“.3... ..

. .3» I «rt-tr

- .urv- ~
.~‘ -“

. ﬁm‘ - .. ...,_
... .43. 4

. .WW-v

 
V “0.”; 32‘ “3—m3—4s‘31

‘ desert Burt Davis reined in his horse.

"I , meeting.

' . dost ."

18

The slumbcrs of the two through the bal-
awe of the night were uninterrupted, and at
early dawn they arose, reinvigorated in nerve
and physical strength to prepare for the
march.

Without much difficulty they found the
trail left by the intruder of the previous
night In fact they found the marks showing
the direction from whence the visitant had
come, making an acute angle with that taken
upon leaving.

“Look! see here!" exclaimed Davis, point-
ing to the ground. “ Note these tracks.
The wolves came in upon this route and left
by the other. They followed at their case;
perhaps ran along b the side of the mustang
which bore your ream woman. No need
to save her from them.”

“No, thank Heaven, you are right, I pray
that she may ﬁnd water within the day. She
may have had a chance to slakc her thirst,
but we know that her horse did not, and if
he fails her on the desert she is lost.”

“If he fails her we shall pick her up;
never fear, so there is water within a two
days’ march. And the sagacious brute will

ide her toward the nearest spring, if her

nowledge fails her.”

“ Move forward then, upon the new trail.
Sooner or later we must overtake her. I
would give a thousand, though, to know
what the danger menacing her really is.”

For a day they pushed hard upon the trail
which la before them. Sometimes it was
broad an plain, sometimes faint and to be
found only with difﬁculty.

Night came and they Were still upon the
desert. Only that sin rle thread of a track
tied them to life. ithout it they would
have'groped blindly—perhaps have perished
miserably. They camped forashort time u on
the arid plain, but With the rising sun tiiey
urged their horses onward once more.

oward noon they came upon another
spring something like the one they had al-

‘ ready found, only it had already been almost

exhausted. and what little water was in it
was brackish and almost unﬁt to drink.

- The saw around it the footprints of the mus-

tang and the wolves. There, too, was the
impress of a tiny, slender, moccasined foot,
that revealed itself more clearly than any
, yet seen.

“ See! the footprint of my dream!"

To Hazel's exclamation his companion

I merely nodded. When the brackish water

was exhausted he had sought to renew the
supply by enlarging the little spring, and
(ice ning its bowl.

be water oozed up but slowly, and Hart

'looked on with impatience.

“Folly! Let us be up and oil. It would
behours before the spring would supply all
our wants. We are refreshed, let us hasten
on. It cannot be many miles to that blue

‘line in the distance, and we must reach it be-

fore night.”
Davis agreed. The forced their horses
swigyefrom the spot an renewed their ﬂight.
animals began to show the effects of

 iv  the long and arduous journey. Their pace

ed, their step had lost all elasticit .
An asif to mock them the saw by t e
trail that the mustang w ich preceded

‘7 them galloped as freely and as strongly as
. e

ver.
Still their case was by no means desperate.

“ A. ' . The blue line of timber magniﬁed the pleas-

ant scenery beyond stretched out before

*' .them, with its features more and more dis-
;‘r': tinct.

It seemed that the haven of rest
would be won by nightfall.

Asthey drew nearer to the edge of the
As it
halted he gave a long and troubled look at

"the country before him. With his out-

stretched haml he pointed at a wavering
'columu of smoke, so attenuated as to be
snuggly visible to eyes less keen than such
83 .

> “ A careful hand feeds that fire,” said he
'after a moment’s contemplation. “Can it
be that we are trailing her right into camp?
If so what excuse can we give for our pre-

 sum tion 1’" \

“' tthe meeting rovide for its excuses.
Not yet will we reac the end of our journey.
No quiet camp-ﬁre scene will be our ﬁrst

Something tells me so. Some-
tbin speaks of danger, struggles, perhaps

Hazel spoke gloomily. Meantime Davis

 , , 
. ﬂ ..,,

. . .\~ A

V .3, a, .2. u... .. ....v- , ,..v.
_,. .I‘ r 513, .. 3,. . , ~44 ,

 
aCémfu' "‘“i in Latteer . -'. "‘ “ ‘

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

remained with his eyes ﬁxed upon the spot
where the vapor-like column arose.
“Strange. Look! See. It deepens—
broardens. There has been some interrup-
tion, or all caution has been suddenly drop-
ped. That sign could be noted miles away
by the merest tyro in wood craft. Some-
thing has happened; let us hasten forward ”
Time slipped by. Progress with weak and
tired horses was of necessity slow, yet at last
they neared the sweeping line of timber.

. s s e l
The sun was Just flinging its last rays over ‘

the scene; nature lay in the hush that pre-
cedes the coming of twilight.

Then, with a sudden crash of yells and ,
whoops and war-cries, a score of Comanche 7

Indians burst upon them. and almost certain
death stared them in the face.

CHAPTER XXXI.
DEAD AND BURIED.

THE horses of the two white men were
jaded and weak; those of the Indians were

resh and strong. The Indian warriors swept
around and across their trail. Spite of spur
and voice Hazel and his friend found their
steeds failing them, and the road to the com-
parative safety of the timber obstructed by
an advancing squadron that threatened
to overwhelm them. Shots and arrOWs fell
around and upon them, and a succession of
horrible whoops struck their ears.

Almost at the ﬁrst outcry, the horse of
Hazel fell, pierced with three or four arrows.
His riﬂe was ﬂung far from him, and he
dropped in a confused hea , while a red
stream of blood suffused his ace.

Davis for a time fought valliantly. He
poured shot after shot out of his riﬂe and
quickly-drawn revolver. Although taken
by surprise, in the moment that was given
him for action he carved ‘his mark broad
and wide with his knife, after emptying
every chamber of his revolver.

He struggled bitterly, but the odds were
too great. A blow felled him from his sad-
dle to the ground, where he lay motionless.
One of the savages had an arrow ﬁtted to his
bow, and was about to transﬂx him where he
lay, but was stopped by the others. Several
sprung down and ﬂung their arms about him
before he recovered from the stunning stroke
upon his skuil. When reason came slowly
back to Davis. he found himself bound hand
and foot athwart a mustan in front of a
brave, and being borne rapidly away from
the scene of the conﬂict.

How it happened that Davis thus found
himself carried away can be easily told.

Just in the very heat of victory, when the
Comanches were uttering their wild yells of
triumph, a shot or two was heard, and as
many Indians fell. Then, from the direction
of the timber, a number of white men came
charging out to the rescue. The should.
perhaps, have struck in sooner. here was
a little delay. For this perhaps, Pierre Ros-
caro was to blame. Was it timidity, or what
could it have been, that he held up his hand
and stayed the ﬁrst impulse of t 3 others,
which was to rush out?

So rapid were the movements of the Co-
manches that, at best, it would have been
impossible to check the attack, or to have
changed the result. of their assault. Before
they could have reached them the mischief
would have been done.

“ Just a minute, wait,” urged Roscaro.
“I hear the footsteps of Meyers, and the
noise will hasten him, I am sure. He will
be here in an instant, and is worth having in
the struggle that we may expect.”

Meyers was indeed coming, and as he
burst into sight Larry could no longer be re-
restrained.

“Come on yere, Hank. There’s white
men goin’ under, an’ we a-standin’ like durn
cowards a-seein’ of it. Whoop, thar, four to
forty, an’ down they goes!"

\T e four charged out like aWhirlwind,
ﬁring a: thev went. Hazel and Davis were
down, and they rode madly forward to save
the scalps of the two. Their appearance was
instantly noted. and as they came fearlessly
forwa . the courage of the Comanches gave
wa . A panic struck those upon foot—an
un orsed Comanche is the coward of all
cowards—they bundled their captive u n a
horse, and w thout waiting to scalp t e in~
animate head of Hazel, who la covered by
the bodies of his horse and two ndians, they
dashed away in momentary ﬂight.

Having done this much the four white

men scarcely felt like pushing their success
any further. Outnumbered even yet three
to one, should the Comanches once recover
and turn, the struggle might prove disas-
trous to the whites. They contented them-
selves, therefore. with a couple of parting
shots and exultant cries; then Delain and
Meyers turned their attention to the ﬁeld of
battle.
.' Four of the Comanches had fallen, of
whom three had been killed outright; the
fourth received the coupe dc grace from the
hand of Meyers. The (lead savages were
rudely east aside and Ilazel’s dead horse
rolled away. Then they carefully examined
‘ his body.

There was no sign of motion or life. Upon
his head there was the mark of a desperate
blow, given by some hard, blunt weapon,
and upon his breast a pair of gashes. sufﬁ-
‘ cient, one would think, to drive the life out
‘ of a dozen men.

! “Dead ez mack’rel, bu’sted, wiped out,
E an' went under,” said Meyers softl , as he
‘ looked down upon the face of Hart Iazel.

l “Dead ain’t no name fur it. A likely
llookin‘ young chap he war, too. Kinder
g seems to me ez tho‘ we war in some way to
blame, an’ it makes me feel bad under my
right car. I reckon ef yer hadn’t been
pokin' around so slow we mou’t ’a’ been in
time. To think I see’d him rubbed out an'
on'y saved one on ’em. Blast ye, Roscaro,
ye’r'a durned coward. Ye throw’d up on
i the traces, right in the time 0’ need.”

Larry turned angrily toward where he
supposed Pierre Roscaro was standing, and
was surprised to see that he was gone.
glance around revealed the fact that he was
walking moodin apast, with his head bent
down, his arms behind his back, apparently
communing with himself.

“ Good men go down like a ﬂash. He mou’t
’a’ bin an angel with the irons, but he hadn’t
no show. Somehow I’s sorr for the boy.”

Meyers’s remar s recalled elain to his in-
vestigation of th body.

“ ’Tain’t no use. A gallon o’ redeye c’u‘d
be poured inter his nozzle ’thout makin’ a
sneeze. All we can do fur ther lad now isto
save his scalp an‘ take warnin’. He mou’t
’a’ shot quicker by a shade, an’ so chan ed
the deal all ’round; but I ain’t oin’ to re ect
en a boy that died me. with is boots on.
Ketch holt, an‘ we ltote him into the tim-
her an’ kiver him up.”

“How about the other man?” suddenly
queried Meyers.

“ Curset e otherman!" harshly interposed
the voice of Roscaro.

La gave hima contemptuous look, and
assiste by Meyers, proceeded to carry out the
suggestion of giving some little respect to the
remains before them.

It did not take long.

A narrow, shallow trench du in the shade
of the timber line received the ﬁndy. Care-
fully the three men covered it up; carefully
they smoothed it over. Then they rejoined
Pierre Roscaro. whose actions seemed singular
if they did not give positive oﬂense.

“See hyar,” said Delain, when the four
again stood together, “ I’ve a camp not fur
from here, an I urpose strikin’ fur it an’
linin’ the insides o my ribs with buﬂler. We
kin look over matters a bit, I kin give yer
an onderstandin’ as how the land lays now
with me, an’ we kin all on us keep an eye
open fur Comanch’. Ef they ain’t down on
us by sunrise, it’ll be acause we’ve umped
this claim, an’ struck fur safer zin .”

“Ye’r’ mi hty right,” said eyers, in re-
sponse. “ is yere huntin’ expedition had
better git, er count on swappin’ boots to the
other leg. Pull out, pard, an’ we’ll foller.”

Without demur the others assented, and in
silence Delain led the way toward his en-
campment. ‘

 
CHAPTER XXXII.
BLACK LABBY’B STRANGE nor.
“ So you have seen the girl, have you?"
“Ye’r’ right, I’ve seen her. More ner that,
she got the dro on me, an’ then held the
edge like a gent eman.”
“And because you were outwitted b a
girl you now propose to retire altoge er
rom the business, and leave me in the lurch
for all my trouble and expense?”
“ Durn it all, no! I’ll stay out till trappin'
sesson begins ag’in. I’ve a hundred

 
/
«

I

-. - A... 4

 
. '..- n -  __ .» .mn ...-'b.-I « ..— » n —

Hark Kenton, the Traitor. ’

19'

 
traps hid u on the Saskatchewan, an’ when
I come in ’11 pay yer like a man, doubloon
fur doubloon.”

“A hundred traps hid athousand miles
from here in an Indlan country may be capi-
tal for some one to raise a back—load of pelts
from, but it’s not you. Do you take me for
a fool?”

“ No, I take yer fur what yer are—suthin’
a durncd sight worse.”

Roscaro leaped to his feet, his knife bran-
dished; but Delain was the quicker. Two
revolvers ﬂashed from his belt, one in either
hand. The one was for Pierre; the other
was held at large, ready to be applied in any
needed direction.

“Settle down, my leetle Mexican game-
cock; I hev ycr covered, an’ she slings a
nasty chunk 0' lead. When I’m torkin’ senst
I don't want no sich humbuggin‘. Lay low
thar an’ be easy."

“Not till you take back what you have
said. I allow no man to call me scoundrel.”

“An’I let no one-mule critter, white or
red, woolly-head or Greaser, call me a liar.
Drop them words, an’ it’s all easy ag‘in
atween us. Ef not, this hyar range is too
uarrer, an’ one on us hes got to leave it."

“ Are you tw0 going to sit and see me mur-
dered?” asked Roscaro, in an altered tone,
turning to the others.

Me ers gave a short laugh.

“ guess not; only it’s not m turn to chip
in. If Larry hed a-see'd me rawin’. you'd
bin a dead man afore I’d got at hand round.
Larry knows me, an’ I knows arry, an’ Ca-
ballos knows both on us better nor you do.
Sit down, now, an’ be reasonable. Thar
ain’t no murderin’ to be done onless the red-
skins mount us ag‘in.”

“ I’m agreeable,” answered Delain.
“Whatever’s to be said, though, I want did
up in double quick. It liain‘t safe hyer for
you; an‘ es fur me—I’m off on the trail of
them Comanch’. I hate the hull tribe from
britch-cloth to toe-nail an’ back to skull-lock
ag‘in. Besides the hev a white prisoner,
an' I jist feel like roppin’ down on ’em an’
sp’ilin the fun they’ve set up. Ef I kin give
you any p'ints afore I go, rattle off yer ques-
tions—then go yer way an‘ I’ll go mine."

The three stared at the speaker in amaze—
ment undisguised.

Up to this moment the had not sup osed
him to be in such thoroug earnest. andp they
did not know how to deal with these evi-
dences of sudden regeneration.

Hank the hunter looked at him with a
qiuaintly quizzical look; studious to avoid
g ving oﬂense, but at the same time unable
to re ress the feeling within him.

“ e’s got it right under the hump. Hit
hard an’ teetotall scooped It was the
woman done it. et him go, Pierre, ’tain’t
no use to try to argue the matter; maybe in a
week er so he‘ll come down to reason a ’in.”

Black Larry gave no ansWer. He sIowly
returned his revolvers to his belt and looked
around the little circle. The advice of Hank
Meyers seemed to have fallen u on mellow
ground. The other two remaine motionless,
and nothing was said. or done to cause a
change of a determination that seemed to be
so ositively ﬁxed. .

Belain turned and gathered up his eﬂects,
cast a lin ering glance around, and then was
gone. T ey heard his footsteps for a‘mmute
or two, then the sound of his horse s hoofs
fell gently upon their ears. Soon they faded
away in the distance and the three were
alone.

Roscaro seemed relieved.

He had employed Delain to perform a
certain service—to ﬁnd a certain person.
That dut had been perfected; but when he
attempte to lead the trapper further on he
suddenly met with a dangerous resistance,
totally at variance With the idea he had
formed of the man. Of the other two he

had no fears, however, and it was something ‘

of a relief to have the place freed of the pres-
ence of one who, at any moment, might

change the passive nature of his resistance ‘

into an aggressive one.

“The irl has evidently been here this
very da ,’ said Roscaro, after a few mo.
ments 0 silence.

“Yes. and your unmanageable tool that
has just left us has been crazy enough to be
attracted by her. What sort of looking crea-
ture do you suppose she is?” remarked Cabal-
loo.

“ Handsome enough, no doubt, if she con-
tinues to resemble her mother. Handsome
or not, it makes no difference to us, so long
as we can get what stands behind. Young
enough, and vain enough, I fancy, to be
dazzled with the idea of plenty of gold at the
present, and unlimited freedom of action
hereafter. "

“And if not?"

want. is a matter of indifference. The point
is to prove her living. and obtain possession
and transfer of her rights. Then she may
retire so soon as she chooses.”

Caballos laughed a little bitterly.

“ All this trouble might have been avoided

if you had not been so promiscuous in your
i revenge. Why could you 'not have been a
3 little careful?’
“Never mind the past. What we have to
i do now, is to lay out our present plan of
3 action. Let us hear what Meyers has to pro-
pose.”

The guide thus addressed turned to face
the speaker, and was on the eve of expressing
,the uppermost thought in his mind, when
the conclave was suddenly interrupted in a
strange and startling manner.

 
CHAPTER XXXIII.
FROM THE VERY GRAVE.

THE supposed corpse of Hart Hazel rested
for a time quite peacefully in the little grave
hollowed out for it by the hands of Meyers
and Delain. Blood on the forehead, blood
' on the breast, gashed and battered and
E bruised, this semblance of inanimate human-
, ity had no occasion to complain of the lodg
l ing-place provided for it.

1 After a time, however, there was an un-
: easy twitching of the limbs, a quiver of life,
1 running through all the muscles. The heart
i again resumed its pump-work; the wheels of
1 life were once more in motion. Ricketty,
‘ shambling, weak. and top heavy the motion
was, and hardly to be pronounced better
than none at all. However that might be,
! the spark of vital ﬂame had not yet left the
‘ frame of Hart Hazel, who now groaned
heavily and ave a feeble effort to rise.

Folly! he weight of mountains was

upon him. The moist, cool earth, that had
'acted as a kindly bandage to his wounds,
9 held him now as in a vise." In some way a
i faint supply of air fOund its way to his

breathing apparatus; but his inspirations
: were short and frequent, like the panting of
i a wounded, hard-run deer.
i After this ﬁrst effort he lay still and quiet;
1 to scream was impossible, and he had been
i thrown into the grave in such a way that his
I arms were doubled under him, so that there
5 was no possibility of aiding himself by the
i use of his hands. All was dark and oppres-
sivc. -

A little piece of dirt fell into his mouth.
, It was a little thing. but it had to be dis-
; posed of, so be swallowed it, after some ex-
‘r ertion. From that time, stran e as it might
lseem, he appeared to breathe reer; but the
I place was getting uncomfortably warm. It
was a wonder that hemorrhage from his
wounds did not be in again.

Shortly after th s return from death to
; buried life, a noise could be heard in the
g fair, free world above. Larry Delain was
r passing by.

l The trapper paused in his course to 've a
I glance at the spot where he had lately ,elped
‘ to de osit the youn man. .

“ ubbed out! e must all go some day;
,but somehow I feel parti’kler bad on that
; youngster. ’Pears tome he was 9. ga young
I rooster, an’ I hated to see the game- ird rat-

tled in the ﬁrst go 03. I’ve see’d ’em come
‘ round when they war hipped, rattled.
coupled an’ a win broke; but he warn’t 0’
that kind. Well. hope he’s sleepin’ sound.
an' nary a bad dream to skecr him. I must
I keep a-movin’ of I want to strike the trail at
i the spot I am fur."

In the stillness that brooded around the
spot the words of this soliloqu could ac-
tuall reach Hart Hazel’s ears. ad he not
, been as weak almost as a newly-born infant.
; his answering moan might have been heard,

But Delain passed away unsuspecting.
‘ When the trap er ﬁnally disappeared three
. wolves came slin in toward the spot. They
looked around timid y, snuﬁng anxiously as
they advanced.

 
.

“Oh, well, what she wants or does not,

 
The animals followed closely the trail of
the trapper until they reached the place'
where Hazel was lying, but there they sud--
denly stopped. Seated upon their haunches,
they held their noses alternately up and
down, as if somewhat in doubt.

The scent was too warm to miss their easil
affected nostrils. With one accord they -
vanced to the spot under which lay Hart
llazel's body, and promenaded up and down
over its smooth surface with low whines, in-
dicative of uncertainty. Finally one of the
wolves gave a low, long howl, and instantly
all three set to work. Tooth and nail they
tore up the loose ground, and scraped it away,
making an excavation so large that it seemed
wonderful in how short a time it was made.

In a few moments the exhumation was.
complete; the uncovered body lay motionless
before the three wolves.

A sudden movement on the part of Hart
Ilazel in his grave caused the three wolves
to spring sideways from the spot. Yet the ,
spring seemed more the result of curiosit S
than fear. They stood a pace or two at? "
watching to see what would be done next. . '

Slowly and with diﬂiculty Hart Hazel rose
from his grave, and looked around him with “a
a vacant sort of stare. He put his hands to
his eyes for an instant. asif to remove the . ‘
lingering traces of a troubled dream. When
he took them down again the wolves were
still before him. ,

Strength returned again. He raised to his
feet rapidly, and turned from the bright
moonlight before him, in which sat the three
brutes, to the somber shade of the timber on
his side. He stepped from the grave; he . ,
moved from the spot. With revived conﬁ-
dence in himself and his strength, he accel- 
erated his pace until it became a wild run. 

The wolves closed behind and kept at a' 'I'iix
certain, though respectful distance, in his "
rear. 
Perhaps he was guided by the sound of 
voices; perhag; he bent his course by chance ' i
or instinct. hatever may have been the ' .
attractive power, he came suddenly upon ' a;
three men seated in conference, and who, "'
from their actions. when he burst in upon 
them, might very easily have been taken for "‘3?"
a trio of conspirators. , 

Hart Hazel dashed up to these three men, ,r  
and stood before them in a wild and threat- 
enin attitude. 

“ here is she?” he shouted. 5;,

"I have been called, and I come now— ' ‘5;
where is she hidden? Who menaces her?’ fife
Is it you, senor. with the black f e and 
blacker heart? Would you murder my dar— 
ling with the golden hair and violet eyesfﬁa 
What crime are you plotting here amon the ,
foot-hills, for my queen of the desert? link,  I
made haste-am I too late to save her?” - . 

Roscaro shrunk back before this suddenly,“ , 
rising apparition, that charged home upon .1}?
him the ver crimes he was in his heart re- 5??
volving. is hand dropped upon the ever:  
ready weapons which he carried in his gir- 
dle, but he answene not a word as he saw 
Meyers spring forward suddenly and lay his. 
hand upon the young man’s shoulder. ‘ ,s‘

Perhaps the grasp of the guide was un.. , his
duly rou h, though underthe circumstances: 
he could rdly have been expected to handle 
Hazel with carefully timed nicety. Never-.~
theless had he laid his hand ever so lightly
upon him the result would probably have»
been the same. With the utmost precision ~
of time and distance the ﬁst of Hart Hostel- i159:
shot straight from his shoulder out. . , ‘* 

The blow landed upon the face of Hank "‘
Meyers with the wei ht of a trip-hammer.»
His head ﬂew back; his heels ﬂew up, and r' :
be measured his length upon the ground. 
Then Hazel glared an instant around, with a. 
look of wild ferocit . , ' 

“ Cowards! mur erers! villains! You are.“".'
plotting some wicked deed. head it in your, leg"?
hearts; but beware! I shall foil you. .I,
shall save her. See to it that on cross not .3 3;.3,
my path, for I see death. crue and certain, 
waiting for you all. Back! back from thesefﬁ‘ ”
sacred precincts. or meet the worst.” , ' ' ‘

With a last wild esture of warning, Haul“ ,
broke away. He ollowed the route taken {55'
by Florence, when she left the presence of. i“?
Larry Delain. - From the shade he rushedi”’.,.
out into the ogenglain, and closing in behind ’» 
him, Death, ea and Thighbones bounded, v
merrily in his wake.  '

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by a shot alone could his course have been
interrupted: and the men were in no humor
for attempting that. The earnest manner of
the young man had, for the moment, made
a deep impression upon Roscaro, and Cabal-
los was even more affected, since in this weird
manner he recognized, with a feeling some-
what akin to horror, the moving, speaking
form of the very person whom but a few
short hours before he had seen buried by the
two scouts, as they believed never to tread
God’s green earth again.

 
CHAPTER XXXIV.
TEE GATE 0F strn’s CANYON.

THE different and unconscious vagaries
',0f fever are many and singular.

For a time Hart Hazel was as mad as the

maddest. Possessed of a strength and speed

' that was almost supernatural, he ran for

' miles without pausing to rest, or even once

,‘1 feeling the need of doing so.

A madman‘s strength, while the ﬁt of fever
. is on him, is something wonderful.
When Hazel once more recovered his con-
sciousness, he found himself lying under the
' shade of a small tree. He was very weak,
,‘ stiﬂ and sore; and in addition was very
hungry.
He at ﬁrst found some difficulty in realiz-
ing just what had occurred—even after he
 had recalled the sudden attack by the Co-
! manches, he had no means of knowing how
he had come to his present position; since,
from the moment when he had fallen from
' his horse. all was a dark blank.
Yet it did seem to him, like a dream, that
' he had come across certain men whom at ﬁrst

' ' sight he suspected and hated.

A faint recollection of a dark and sinister
face, that was turned toward him with an
‘ ill-boding frown upon it, dimly lurked in
"his brain.
How long it had been since this face had

i v thus frowued upon him. What had been his
‘ v. ‘wanderings and how he had subsisted since,

he could not, for the life of him, tell.
At all events, he was living now, even if
' in a bruised and battered condition; and as

5 he lay there, trying to gather his scattered

'senses, the phantom face of his dream came
drifting hack to him, to recall him to the
fateful undertaking which yet lay before

ml
At a short distance there rose a mountain
7 range toward which some invisible magnet

 drew him, with a force that ‘made his very
; muscles twitch and tremble. IIe arose to
' his feet and staggered toward the hills.

From out of an opening or pass, which

d‘ seemed to lead into the heart of the hills, he

'- 45! more than ordinar

saw three wolves come bounding forth.
Their appearance was no surprise. His
wonder rather was at the very naturalness of

 
 their looks and actions.

They came toward him boldly, halted for

ma moment, and then began to retrace their

tonne, with an air which seemed to beckon

,. 'v him on to follow in their wake.

f He did not hesitate a moment. but strode
~' onward at the most rapid pace which he was

fcapable of. To his delight he found a clear
.'-"rivulet of water. at which he took a refresh-

in draught and bathed his heated brow.
’ The pathway spread out plainer and plain-
It showed a distinct trail, beaten smooth
1 Ehoofs, tracks that lead away into the re-

i.

, on of hill and valley before him, in a wind-
 g and ever slowly ascending thread, that
was ﬁn lly lost away above him.

‘ ’ He W at forward on the pathway, with no
certain object in view, yet with an idea that
,in some way it would lead him nearer to the

"vaocom llshment of the undertaking on which
he ha hazarded life and all at a moment’s

notice, as it ere.

' The mere was not by any meansa tire-
some one. It was only his weak and fever-
exhausted condition that made the ourney
_ difﬁculty. he in-
juries which he h received, however,
seemed to‘him, just now, triﬂing compared

 
MBA with the gnaWing 0' hunger that raged more

vand'more within him.

 {Hunger and love are generally considered

Beompatible ailments; but Hart Hazel prOVed,

by-actual experiment that the two ma exist
_,,ot’the same time, and have their hol upon
" the same person.

,, His friends, the wolves, took the lead, and

 
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‘he looked upon them with a kindly eye.

Whence they came he knew not, but they
were, to him, a section of his dream, and for
that were welcome. Their tracks, like those
of their phantom predecessors, doubtless
would lead him straight on to the golden-
liaired woman he sought.

After a time, just when his step was grow-
ing haggard and weary the three wolves
passed and turned to look at him. He came
steadily on. and they wagged their tails slow-
ly and in unison, as much as to say: “ Come
now, you are welcome.” -

At the sound of the noise made by the
wolves, to Hazel's surprise he heard a voice,
evidently of a boy, saying:

“Hal ha! you are back again already;
where is Florence? Where is Starlight? 1
did not hear you and their footsteps, but I
so pose she must be coming.”

I‘hen the speaker stepped suddenly out
from a leafy covert and stood in the path,
facing Hazel, who was within a hundred
yards. ‘

Both seemed struck dumb with surprise;
the boy at the unexpected stranger appear-
ing in place of Florence—the young man at
ﬁnding a boy, and a white boy at that, at a
spot where he was least expected.

Hazel stepped forward; the other turned
as if to ﬂy. In another moment the boy
would have been skimming up the pathway,
when Hazel called out:

“Wait, boy! I am weak, wounded and
harmless. Would you trust me less than

these brutes have done? Who are you, and 3

can you lead me where I can obtain food? I
must die else.”

The lad paused at this address given in an
earnest, even pleading tone of voice. He
turned and looked curiously at the pale, tot-
tering young man, whose clothes were
stained and frayed, and whose hair from its
late wetting at the stream looked even more
matted than ever.

“ Who are you? You come in strange

uise, and stranger yet, you come apparently .

in the company of these three animals, who
never yet were friends with any one but my-
self and the person who trained them up
from cubs "

The animals seemed to understand that
they were alluded to and looked from one to
the other as if they would like to explain
the whole story. They leaped and whined;
and gave such tokens as they were able, that
the youn man whom the had just piloted
in was we 1 worthy of con dence and should
be treated with proper respect and considera-
tion.

“ They have attached themselves to me. I
know not why, and I have learned to recog-
nize them as friends, true and tried. They
ﬁrst met the a long time ago, perhaps a
week, away out on the desert. They stole
into my camp in company with some one 1
now judge to have been their mistress; they
vanished once again, to appear at the side of
my grave.”

“ At your grave!" exclaimed the boy, with
a gesture of astonishment.

“ Yes, at my grave, for I had been taken
for dead, and was buried. They tore away
the covering of death and dug me out again
to life. Since then I have been distraught
and wandered blindly. A short time ago

they met me out upon the plain and led me ‘

hither. “ I have much that I would say to
you, since I can ess that to on it should
conﬁded; but need nouris ment.”

“ A brief, but a strange story, ct I can
trust you. The three pets woul not have
dreamed of ‘thus attaching themselves to you
unless they had been so hidden; and the con
sequences can now, I suppose he accepted.
I suppoae you can be trusted—if not you see
that I am armed, and spite of their friendly
mien there would be four of us to one. Fol-
low mel" .

The boy moved away with an elastic.
springing step. llazel following with a heavy
mechanical gait that even the near prospect
of the much-needed food and rest, could not
serve to make lighter.

As they disappeared in the direction from
which the ho had come, the three wolves
turned sharp y around with their eyes set to-
ward the opening of the pass below. They
looked: at each other With an intelligence
that was almost human. and then, as if in-
spired by a single, impulse of thought,
bounded down the trail together. .

CHAPTER XXXV.
PLEDGED TO THE DEATH.

ALONG the stream near the mouth of the
pass, which Ilart Hazel had passed but a
short time before, there led a trail, coming
in from the south. It was narrow, faint,
and gave no positive signs of by what or
when made. Still it was there, and it gave
evidence that there was a practicable road
leading somewhere. lt wound/away, along
; the Western bank of the stream. which fol-
i‘ lowed the course of the range. and soon was

3 lost to sight, though it left behind no doubt
‘ of its continued existence.
l Along this trail, at the. very time when
i Hazel was staggering toward his guides, the
wolves, though at the distance of some miles
E and completely hidden from his sight, two
!men were making their way. These two
! men were Pierre Roscaro and Jose Caballos.
:I'Iank Meyers. the scout, was also almost
; within supporting distance, but he was lost
"from view among some recesses of the moun—
tains that attracted his attention, and which
not being difﬁcult of access, he determined
to explore.

Although Caballos was unacquainted per-
‘ sonally With this country, he advanced bold-
‘ l ; too boldly, in fact, to evince good bor-

titer training. Meyers had declared it as his
, opinion, from his general knowledge of the
' region, that it was not probable that danger
would be met with, and his judgment was of
value generally, since as scout, lndian-ﬁghter,
trapper or guide. he had but few peers. The
danger. if any there was, would, in his opino
ion, come from behind.

Away off to the southwest the two men
suddenly heard the ring of a riﬂe. Its echoes
fell with strangely jarring unpleasantness
¢ upon the cars which caught them upon the
instant They halted at once to listen.

.As they stood motionless, with their ears

bent in the direction from whence they be-
lieved the sound to have come, some bushes
. but a few yards distant from them parted,
and two men, unmounted but well armed,
‘ slowly swaggered out and toward Roscaro
1 and his companion.
i Hank Meyers, the guide, had the appear-
! ance of rather a genial desperado—these two
i had the looks of desperadoes without the
‘ geniality.

They were outlaws and‘ cut-throats, pure
? and simple.

! “Wal, old boss, what do you make on
it?” said the leading man of the suddenly
‘ appearing strangers, bringin down his hand
i with a slap upon the shoul er of Roscaro’s
I horse.
i 80 suddenly and so quietly bad the des~
l peradoes made their approach that this salu-
; tation was the ﬁrst intimation which Pierre,
‘preoccupied as he was in listening for fur-
ther sounds from the spot where he had
‘ heard the gun shot, had of their presence.
I; The animal which he bestrode gave a great
I bound at this cavalier treatment, and prob-
ably a less practiced rider than Roscaro would
. have been unhorsed.

On the instant Caballds had a revolver in
' his hand. ready for an immediate use upon
the persons who thus intruded.

A glance satisﬁed him that he held the
,advantage. and he prudently awaited the
:decision of his friend, before opening the
ball.

Roscaro, however, seemed to reco nize
the voice on the instant/and quieting own
his horse with a WUl‘d and a steady, power-
aful pull upon the reins, with perfect my
1 froz'd he turned to the two.

“Sonora Sam, I vowl- You are as wel.
come as the ﬁrst spring aftera journey across
the Llano Estncado. Did you tear that riﬂe-
shot a moment since?——it may mean trouble
for us. and there is no man whom I would
sSooner have behind me then, than Sonora

am. ’

“Yes, I heard it, ap’ I war thinkin' thet
V you mou‘t be bringin up a hull bilin‘ lot of
: trouble fur as poor, peaceable critturs, so I

thort I‘d come right to headquarters an’ ﬁnd '

out what was the lay-out.

” Queer place fur meetin’.
on seein’ you up hyar.”

“ I can say the sameto you. The lastitimc
we met—over the border, you know."

Roscaro accompanied his ambiguous sen-
tence with a jerk of the head which was in-
tended to convey much. and which Sonora
Sam seemed to thoroughly understand.

Never thort

 
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“ Don't triﬂe on it, I kin stand to hear it,
or Matt llorne, my pard. won’t feel anyways
alarmed at knowin’ he‘s travelin’ with a man
thet war once strung up by the Texas Ran-
gers. It war down on a cattle-drive that
they took me, Matt, an’ strung me up ‘stho‘
1 war a blind kitten er a wolf cub. D'sarved
it, too!" he added, with a demoniacal
chuckle.

Roscaro waved his hand, as if he were
anxious to revert from the things that were
past, to the needs of the present.

“ Not more than others. All the world is
about alike. Some must be hung, so the rest
must be hangmen. It‘s only a matter of
taste—except the 00nsequences, I would as
soon be the one as the other. I have met
your confrero there also, before, if I mistake
not, and I doubt if gossip can injure the
character of any of us in his eyes. Now, if
I am not too inquisitive, what is it that
brings you into this part of the country?”

Sam looked at his ally with a singular ex-
pression. It was just a single glancc, but it
did not escape Roscaro.

“Rather sing’lar, I allow. It's off the
drive, an’ trav‘lers worth the picking are
skeercc. ’Twar chanct, kinder, an’ a com-
pany of United States cavalry assistin’. We
come down from the Overland route a-b‘ilin’,
I tell yer, an after we got in this yere neigh-
borhood. the durned Comanches hev made it
too lively to be pleasant.”

Pierre Roscaro eyed the speaker with
some doubt. The story was possible: he
would have believed it if he had not caught
sight of the single glance given by the man
before he began. Something was behind
this, though what, time only would disclose.
Sonora Sam was smart enough to stick to
any lie that, upon the spur of the moment,
he might invent. At the same time it car-
ried with it some grains of probability.

“ So, then, you are here without any deﬁ-
nite employment. Have you an outﬁt?”

“ You bet. The bosses are cached in
thar.”

“ And perhaps you wouldn’t mind helping
in a little job, that would not take up much
of your time, and which would pay well?”

" Is it a cash job, right hard down on the
nail?"

“Well, no; but you know me and can
trust to my fulﬁlling my promises in regard
to payment for any services you may render
me. One of the men upon whom I counted
has thrown off on me, right in the heart of
the matter and even if I were to supply his
place I would probably still be short of help
to carry the thin through.”

“ And the wor to be did?"

" To do as I tell ou.”

Sonora Sam no ded and, with a leer that
was meant to be sly, touched his hand sig-
niﬁcantly upon the butt of his revolver.

“ I see, it’s business. No talkin’ about it
aforehand, no blabbin’ on it arter. A shot
or a twist o’ the wrist that kin handle a
bowie, an’ down he goes. Done.” Count
me an’ Matt in. We’re ards on all sich.”

_ “ No danger of your 'nching, I hope.”

“Don't rile me with sich a ring to yer
v’ice. We ain’t them kind. Tskeus even
right down amon the hosts 0’ Devil’s
Can on, an’ you’ll nd ust ar.”

" vil’s Canyon,” said Roscaro.
whereabouts may that be?"

“One of the eyes, so to speak, of it, lies
almost afore ye now. This yere trail mou’t
lead yer inter it. Perhaps that’s the p’int
ye'r' aimin’ at.” Tell us ri ht now, in the go-
of! through, about whsr e’s hid, an’ how
long you think’ll last the doin’ ov it t"

“ It's a woman.”

As Roscaro said these Words he had his
glance ﬁxed keenly upon the face of the man

“ And

4 with whom he was talking. The look that

came upon it was somethin surprising. It
was not fear, it was not hes tancy, it was not
Tepu nance. It was rather the compul
revea ing of an awe and the knowledge of a
mystery that was not understood.

“ By Heaven I but you n 'stalkzn' ourgam 1”
came the ringing words of the desperado.

CHAPTER XXXVI.
HANK HEYEBB TAKES WATER.
WHILE the four men were thus convers-
in , just when Sonora Sam had broken out
Wﬁh the exclamation that closed the preced-
ing cha ter, Matt Home's restless, rovmg
eyes and acute ears caused him to discover

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ithat some one was approaching. Without
l hesitation or delay he called the attention of
' the rest to the fact, and when Roscaro fol-
lowed up the line of the silently pointing
ﬁnger he recognized or thought he recog-
nized in the approaching horseman, Ilank
Meyers.

There seemed, however, to be something
about this llank Meyers different from the
Ilank Meyers whom he had parted from but
an hour or two before. As he came nearer
he exhibited every outward token of a. man
who had lately gone through a thrashing
machine. His clothing, albeit of the stout-
est of new material, was rent and torn, hang-
ing in great streams around him, while the
jaunty, broad-brimmed sombrero, which had
ornamented his head, was gone altogether.

his side, and he sat in his saddle. with a
loose, uncertain seat, totally at variance
with his usual ﬁrm, upright style.

Without hesitation, Meyers rode up to the
little group and gave to all a sweeping sort
of nod. There was a frown upon his brow,
though whether born of rage or pain it was
hard at the moment to say. He paid no fur-
ther attention to the rest of the party, but
planting himself directly in front of his
employer, in a low, thick voice he ex-
claimed:

“ I’ard, I pass!"

“ Time you was passin’l" exclaimed So-
nora Sam. “ What the bloody blazes hev
yer been a-doin‘?”

“ Playin’ my keerds—an’ luck‘s ag’in’ me.
I’ll hold out now, an’ start on the back track
soon ez I’m able to travel.” -

“In the name of Heaven, what have you
met?” now interposed Roscaro, a little re-
covered from his astonishment. “Is there
danger? What has caused this terrible

lig t?”

“ Hold hard a hit, an’ take it all easy. I
hain't met a rizzly er painter er catamount.
It warn’t wilg Injuns er tame. ’Twasn’t ary
thing partic‘lar. Only jist a little, yaller-
haired gal."

Havin said this much he paused again, as
if for re ection, and after a moment, to allow
the information to fairly settle itself in the
minds of his auditory, he added, in a con
teniplative manner:

“But she war lightnin’.”

“It was your riﬂe, then, that we heard?
You saw the girl—and missed her?"

Meyers hun his head in silence. He had
some little pri e, and it had received a shock.
He had his private reasons for believing that
he had acted with meanness, and conse-
quently felt ashamed to say anything in his
defense.

“Come now, pard,” said Sam of Sonora,
moving up closer. “Tell us all about it.
We’re dyin’ to know the natur’ of the she-
male that cut yer eye-teeth fur you in sich
handsome style.”

“ Yes, s ak up,” ordered, rather than
re uested, oscaro.

aballos, as usual, said nothin , but his
great black eyes spoke volumes 0 curiosit .

“ 'Tain‘t much to tell you. When 1 is t,
an‘ sent er on ahead, I thort I’d take, a
little gal op into the foot-hills, an’ explore
what seemed like a small kenyon‘, or gorge.
It war an easy ride,‘ an’ I thort, ez I
went along, thet it looked ez thou h I warn’t
the fast that bed follered thet trai .

“Arteratime the kenyon, all on asud—
dint, opened out into a pocket. Trees war
scattered around loose, sn’ under one on ’em
I came suddently on the female cattymount.”

Here Meyers paused in his story as though
he considered that he had gone far enough.
Sonora Sam looked at him with a disgusted
look and growled out:

” Well?”

“‘ Well, that’s about all. Ez I sed, I see’d
her ther, sn’ thinkin’ to be friendly like, an’
at the same time keepin’ an eye to biz., I
accosted her perlitely sn’ ot bluffed fur my

sins. I war in a pick e then. Ef it bed

in a man, now, ’twould ’a' bin plain sailin’,
jist a case 0’ pull an’ let go. A woman’s
deeferent, though. They say a man as kills
weemen in cold blood is haunted allers, an’
I shouldn’t wonder of it war so. I talked a
leetle peert sn‘ sassy, perhaps, es a man ma
when he’s r’iled, an oﬂered to share wit
her our camp, free 0’ charge. All of which
didn’t suit. When I got , more ,pressin’. with
my invitation, goin’ sofur as to advance to

 
Y
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Hark Kenton, the ‘I’raitor.

One arm seemed to hang almost powerless by '

 
21

offer her my arm, she got up on her left ear
immediate, an’ told me to git. I didn't per-
pose to git, so she got me.”

“ And 110w did she so completely demol-
ish your wardrobe, in so short a time?
What weapons did she use to do you the
grievous bodily injury, that seems to be put-
ting you in so much pain at the present
time?”

“ I’ll tell you how it war. I stepped up
closer an’ closer; she keepin’ movin' back
slowly an’ slower. I allow she warned me
fair an’ squar’, an’ ef I suffered it war my
own fault. Jist as I grabbed fur her arm
she clapped her hands together twice, with a
sounding slap. The next minnit the devil
had me.”

“ The devil!" exclaimed Matt Home, with
a tremor in his voice that did not pass un-
noticed by the rest of the audience. 9

” Yaas, the devil—in the shape of a great
brown mustang, with blazed face. She
clapped her hands, e7. 1 war sayin’, twic‘t.
Then ez my hand touched her shoulder she
leaped sideways an’ called: ‘Starlight!
Starlight!’ Thet's about all I remember
c’rectly. He caught me by the back of
the neck: he hit me; he churned me; he
shook me. When I dropped on the ground
he put his. one foot on the small of in back

 
and ripped my coat into slithers With his.

mouth. An’ the darned cuss war only
playin’ with me all the time. He hurt a lit-
tie, to be sure, but ef she‘d ’a’ said a word
he’d ’a‘ tore me limb from limb in the shake
of a goat’s tail. I ﬁred jist one shot, thet
went ﬁoatin’ skywards—thet’s the time my
arm got hurt.
the blow up, arter the churnin’ bed gone on
fur a longer time than war at all convenient

er agreeable; she speaks low to the mus-~

tang, who stopped his worryin’, but kept a
tight hold on what little war left 0’ my
coat.

" ‘ Trapper, hunter, outlaw, er whatever ye
may be, 1 don’t want to have bloodshed, an’
so I’ll let up ef you say ye’r’ willin’ to. leave
me to myself. Tell me that I shall be safe

in allowmg you to do so and you may go in r ‘ :

peace.’

“I took her at her word, you bet. I

crawled back to my hoss where I had hitch— ‘ ' 

ed him—an’ he war a’most dead 0’ fright his-
self. I climbed up into the saddle, an’ war
about to set off ez fast ez I could, when she
called to me to wait a moment. Then she
gathered up my pop-guns jist ez I hed left
’em scartered on the ground. and handed 'em
up to me without an more ﬂinchin’ er fear
then I’d feel lookin’ inter the e 'es of a three-
weeks‘-old buﬂier calf. S 0 war safe,
though. Thar warn’t no shoot left in me.

Thar ain‘t none now. Take the buck an’. ' " 'f,
I jump the game an’ leave the I  ‘

ante erself.
boa No more on it in mine!"
That Hank Meyers, who had the blood of

a dozen white men, and countless Indians; 
upon his hands, should fail him, never once '

had entered the'mind of Roscaro. At this

second defection he was more angered than -- 

surprised, and the stormy manner in which
he replied to this announcement might, at

another time, have drawn the wrath of = .

lMeyers down u on him in fatal haste. That
0

ad been su denly and deeply moved was '

patent to all.

In vain Pierre Roscaro stormed. Hank-g 

turned to Sonora Sam to answer. \
“ Sam, I’ve knowd yer fur years. Ye’r’

rattlin’ bu’ster sn’ nine alligéigors on gigndA ~
every on'

bar; but don’t yer do it.
her head was strung from eend to end with
gold doubloons, I wouldn't tetch her. Take
warnin’, all on yer. E2 the youn feller jist
out on his grave the other ni ht d: ‘Thar’s
death an’ danger ahead—an’ t ain’t fur her.

She almost broke it strildu’~

 
Coaxin’ nor force won’t move me now. I’ve .55.   -'-

give my honest word, an’ I‘m goin’ on the
ac]: track. The ﬁve hundred gold pieces
you ma give to Sonora Sam-— ‘
to look ur Largy Delsin.” ,
Was this sud enly arising cowardice upon
the art of his employees an epidemic? Or
was it, rather, a warning, an impress-

by some strange. mysterious power, upon. 

minds not naturally impressible, for the pub
pose of warning him back from the murder-

ous purpose upon which he was now fully 

resolved. . \
In some such way thought Rosoaro; bu

he had no time given him to further reason 
Hank Meyers, since with his last words "?

with

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Hark Kenton. the Traitor.

 
that worthy had deliberately wheeled his
horse, and began slowly but resolutely to re-
trace his steps.
. “Dare we let that man go back?
i , leave him living?”
' Such were the thoughts of Roscaro, and
with a sudden impulse he seized and cooked
L. 7 , the carbine which hung convenient at his
' shoulder, determined to cause Hank Meyers
. to promise to remain with them, or to take
z his life then and there, for he felt that he
' would be a dangerous encm ' against him in
the future, if allowed to go me then.

CHAPTER XXXVII.
~ ROSCARO TIIWARTED.
t v FOR ,a moment after Hank Meyers had
turned and set his face upon the back track,
his life was in danger. Whatever ma have
been his past crimes, whatever even his pres-
ent deserts, the crual, cowardly shot in the
back. which Pierre“ Roscam then meditated,
Would have been a harsh stroke for one who
had just paused and turned away from a
great temptation to evil.

For just one moment; then the question of
his life or death hung trembling in the bal-
 ance~and it was Sonora Sam that turned
  the scale on the side of life. He was stand-

Dare we

 
~ ﬁg .g..._.-. m».
x. ,

5.7.:
r

s... wmmy

ing at the head of Roscaro‘s horse, and
caught on the instant the full intent of his

 foul urpose. As the carbine’s muzzle
"a; . - , move in the direction of the retreating trap-

per, Sonora Sam seized the bridle of Pierre
Roscaro’s horse near the bit, and with one
; ‘ sweep of his powerful arm, brought it ﬁrst

‘i back upon its haunches and then half-way
round.

“ Hold hard thar!” he exclaimed, present-

ing at the same time a revolver with his left
hand. “ Hank Meyers may be too big now
'fur the game ye’d ﬂy him at, but he saved
my ha’r more ner onc‘t, an’ ain‘t goin’ under
till that little debt‘s paid. 1 Drop that, an’
come down !"
' , “ Curse them all for a pack of greedy, cow-
 -'; srdlycovotes. They drop away from me at
.  ﬁrst sight of the yellow-haired vixen! That
‘ man knows too much to go back to the settle-
ments now. I may as well kill you and go
han m self."

T e ace of the man was white with rage
as he spoke, and he lared upon the others
 with a look that was sngerous.

r Sonora Sam was as cool as an iceberg on
the north side of the Arctic circle. He loosened
~ his hold on the bridle, droppedthe muzzle
- of his weapon, and careless] turned away.

,. The attention of Roscaro ha been diverted

’ to himself, his debt to Meyers had been paid
'inthat rude way, and now he was at ease.

"Hardly, my friend. When yer want to
die, do it game, with yer boots on an’ makin’
a stiﬂ ﬁght es long as ﬁghtin‘s any ust. Ez
, fur Meyers, don’t trouble yerself, he’s stanch.

“Ef he’s passed out his hand he’ll make
no chin mubic around the board. To-day
' ain’t the ﬁrst I’ve see’d him. Now, it's time

 
 i .leetie matter plain and stra h .”
“ _ ,“Perhsps it is as you sa . At all events,
,' ‘it is too late now to act di erently.
‘ I “ Me ers has gone, and may Satan go with
.n r him. Ivam in a tangled web; lead on and
* '5‘ see if you can help me through.”
 , The very movement that seemed so dis-
pleasing to Pierre Roscaro perhaps was, in
1 reality the means of the salvation of the
" part . As the gavealast glance in the di-
, ‘rectibn which t e detecting guide had taken,
they were surprised to see him come sud-
~denl into view once more. Far awa to
“the nth he ﬂashed into si ht.’ from be ind
' the mountain curve which ad hidden him.
‘- .He was riding at a ﬂying run, evidently
. o . m'skin for cover upon the opposite side of
g the vs ley. '
. ' i f ‘ At this sight, instantly there was a com-
‘ ' i‘ Emotion excited in the little party. The
3. hangs from apathy to activity was certainly
- . ' not brought about without a cause. Meyers
 had been revitalized, and with the knowledge
1-.of' that there seemed to come a scent of
,,~,-danger upon the light breeze which was
 1swee ng up the valley.
 “ e’s a ame one!" was the involuntary
 trib to of att Horne. “He sees danger
. an' ts us know, but he won’t hark back to
 the kiver he’s once draw’d out from.”
“‘No foolin’ Matt, till we et boss-ﬂesh
.atween our legs a ’in. Thar’s iﬁlkilty afore
 an’ danger ah ad.”

we were turnin' inter camp an’ makin' this
3 .

As he spoke Sonora Sam dashed into the
bushes from whence he and his comrade had
made their approach; the others following
without a moment’s delay.

A few moments only were necessary to
prepare the two men.

The four then moved slowly northward,
casting anxious looks behind.

Possibly ﬁve minutes had elapsed from the
time when Meyers had been seen, riding
eastward. From a position of vantage,
where it was possible to see without being
seen, a careful survey of the valley was
taken, and as they looked there darted into
their circle of vision a line of dark forms,
evidently pursuing the course so lately taken
by Meyers.

“Thar they be,” said Horne. “ Dod rot-
ted, thievin’, murderin‘ Comanche. They’s
runnin’ the trail hard but ain’t sighted him
yet. He bed the bulge on ’em an' hez took
kiver. Lord, ain‘t they on it hot?”

The dozen Indians swept away out of
sight in a moment, but it was only to give
place to as many more, who advanced at a
more leisurely pace, their course tending
directly along the foot-hills. They were in-
deed upon the exact trail of Roscaro and his
comrades and doubtless those ﬁrst seen had
detached themselves from the party at the
sight of the spot where the returning track
of Meyers turned away to the cast.

“I b’l’eve,” said Sonora Sam, “thet the
varmints hez awhite pris‘ncr in the lead,
and if so, thar is work fer us tcr do.”

 
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
- PUT 'ro FLIGHT. .

IT was now almost sundown. A few more
moments and Pierre Roscaro and the three men
in league with him. would be, for the present, in
comparative safety. That the Comanches had
seen and followed his trail Roscaro Well knew,
and it behooved him to take some method, during
the coming night, of throwing them off the
scent.

The fact that awhite man, held under some
restraint, but evidently leading the Indians, was
to be seen, did not appear at all remarkable.
Doubtless this was the same band that had sur-
prised the two whites e. few nights before. If so
the prisoner which they then took was still in
their hands.

Pierre Roscaro cared little for the fate of this

risoner but a t deal for the chance which
ed him in that irection. These Indians so in-
opportunely presenting themselves, were driv-
ing him away from he s twhere he knew,
from the re rt of Meyers, ut an hour ago, was
encamped e girl of whom he was in nest. If
he lost her now it ni' ht be some time fore he
would be able again ﬁnd her, especially with
the country swarming with hostile red-skins.

Nevertheless, must, when the king of
darkness drives. With as much haste aswas
compatible with care the wound their way
backward, keeping carefu y under cover and
blessing the darkness which was so rapidly set-
tling around them.

'1‘ e reached the spot where a side trail ap-
pear winding its way into the heart of the
mountainous region upon their left. Roscsro
mined to it, an suggested to Sonora Sam, who

naturally taken he position of leader, that
the follow it.

hat worthy shook his head: “Not any fur
me—leastwise at night. There’s a road into
Devil’s Canyon an’ I want none in mine. Hold
on! We’ll go forra’ds till We lose the trail in
the hard ground ahead, an’ then we'll double
back on ’em.”

“ Hark, what is that?” into Cabsllos, at
the same time extendin his and toward the
thread-like path that t ey could faintly dis.

cern.
A faintly-heard, far—off, cry was heard awe
up in the somber recesses. it was the sing e
how] of a wolf.
Aznin the sound was re ted.
“ Nat’ral," said Matt orne. “ Comes from
a. wolf. er the ghost 0’ one; but what’s the use to
listen up that? The noises that live in them
mountains ’d make yer blood crawl to hear.
The boys told me about ’em long ago, an’ me an’
my pards in three days sn’ nighw—‘speciall the
nights—hes heard enough to scare out a 1‘-
gr zzly with a cottonwood tail. Listen! thai' it
goes ag’in." . .
“Singular,” said Roscaro. “It seems to be
answered in the very direction from whence We
came.
_ “You bet. Every skulkin’ thing thet looks
like a wolf, from a prairie kiote to a timber
gra Will be takin’ the sound up.”
bile Matt spoke they heard the sweeping
allop of a horse, hesdin directly toward them.
hey heard, moreover. 3 outs and yells, and the
sound of discharging ﬁrearms. .
In the dimtwili ht they saw the approaching
rider spring into s ght and bear down upon the
i very spot when they stood. '

 
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and down. thro

 
Roscaro looked on in amazement. He thought
he recognized the great mustang which so rapid-
ly spurned the ground behind him. He thought,
too, that in the darkness he could distinguish
that the form of the rider was lithe and slender.
Flgrence, of Devil‘s Canyon, was before him.

in the full tide of this belief he raised his car-
bins to his shoulder and ﬁred.

At the very moment that the lendcn mw
senger started on its deadly mission, Florence—
for she it was—turned, by the merest wave of
her hand, her steed sharply to the left. It was
done through no premonition of danger, yet it
happened to be her salvation, for untouched
she dashed away in the new direction, never
even turning her head t0see whence was the
shot, which burtled harmlessly past her head.

With a double stroke of the hand Roscaro re-
charged his carbine, and was about to try a
second shot at the now rapidly vanishing wo-
man. Had he done so, perhaps his murderous
intents would have been then and there consum-
mated by the act.

But, however deep the envy, hatred or ava-
rice which was moving him to this dark deed,
self -preservation was stronger and the continu-
ed shouts and yells warned him that the Co-
manches were drawing nearer than was com-
patible with safety for himself and his com—
fades.

“ You’ve did it now,” hoarser whispered
Sonora Sam. “ They’ve sighted us sure an’
will give us a right sharp chase, an’ a middlin’
fair sprinklm" of a fou’t. Come on now!”

The men wheeled at once. Pierre Roscaro
would have rushed for the entering Pass to
Devil’s Canyon had he been the one to direct
their line of retreat, but Sonora Sam refused to
be guided into what might well prove a cut-de-
sac, from which there would be no means of es-
cape save cutting there way out through besieg-
ing red-skins.

To the north then they dashed—with a score
of Comanches in full cry upon their trail, like a
pack of hungry wolves.

 
CHAPTER XXXIX.
'rnic LONELY CABIN.

HART Hum. without hesitation proceeded to
follow his young conductor, who seemed to take
his presence as a matter of course. His sponsors,
the wolves, had performed their introduction,
and now remained behind, ready to attend to
other duties.

Although somewhat stren hened by the as-
surance of speedy ministration to his physical
wants, he was yet so week, so weary, that the
journey seemed almost interminable. Up hill
h forest and glade, they strode
for full half an our, and then suddenly they
came upon a bare and stony neck of mountain,
on the one side of which lay Devil’s Canyon.
0n the other side. at the bottom of a ntle
slope, was a beautiful basin or park, do with
clumps of timber and divided by the silver
thread of a sin 16 windin stream, which glito
tered soft] in 9 light of t e setting sun.

At length his guide halted fer a moment. He
gazed w th a ﬁxed and earnest look into his face,
and said:

“ Your name?"

“ Hart Hazel.”

“ Your Rurpose in coming here?"

“ No evx one, I assure you. I left St. Louis

for the Overland journey to Santa Fe. Two of V

us separated from the train, and after a we”!
journey Wu the desert, were attacked b In-
dians. at became of my compsnim I now
not. I was left for dead, though why left, I can-
not tell. Probably some one came to my rescue,
and having hastily buried my supposed corpse in
a shallow grave, pressed on in ursiiit of the In-
dians. I remember comin on from my sepul-
cher, and then there was a in]: for hours, r-
haps days. See there is the mark of a b ow
upon my head, here is the gash in my clothing
where a knife made its mark through and upon
my breast. The wOIVes drew me from my
tomb, and almost the ﬁrst sight that greeted my
eyes upon the restoration of my senses was the
wolves once more. They drew me on, they led
me. I know them, and they know me. The one
who turned and taught them, taught them well.
I do not wish to pry, I do not wish to intrude;
gt, after my pressmg needs are satisﬁed, I wish
ask a question or two of the one who sent
them to my assistance. If there is den ”

“Haste! haste! Savs her! save her!

The words broke in upon the thread of the
young man’s story, and he stared wildly around.
Twice before had he heard the same cracked
voice, uttering the same earnest ejaculation—
once in his slumbers by the camp-ﬁre, but that
time it was in a dream. Once again in the lone-

ly camp on the desert march-then be fancied it y

a phantom, or the creation of an overstrnng im-
agination.

“ Yes, I will save her!” he cried, ﬁercely,
shaking his clinched ﬁst. “ Unarmed, weak,
dying though I seem, I will save her!”

As Hazel thus‘ shouted, with his eves ﬁxed up-
ward, his form guivering with emotion, his voice
gradually grew ainter, till the last words came
in a compressed whisper. Then his too severely
tried nerves and body together ﬁst? way, and
he fell senseless at the feet of his nor.

Mama. I: t ‘

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The boy seemed alarmed. Perhaps conscience
smote him because he had dallied with one sore—
ly needing help. With a strength far beyond
his seeming years. he drag ed Hart Hazel away
from the spot. He tugger and toiled until the
perspiration broke out in great beads upon lllS
forehead, and, at length, by almost superhuman
exertions, brought him to the doorway of a lit-
tle cabin which lay concealed from sight m a
carefully chosen location. .

Here, for a moment, he left him. and assed
within the cabin, but soon reappear He
moistened the lips and brow of the unconscious
young man, sprinkled his face, and ﬁnally ap
pearcd overjoyed to observe Signs of returning
animation.

The process of returning from stupor to actual
life was slow. For a time Hart Hazel lay weak
and motionless. He watched his self-constituted
nurse with a wandering air; not certain, appar-
ently, of the reality of an thing around him.

The boy was equal to t 10 emergency. Noise-
lessly, et rapidly, he prepared a tempting dish
of f0 from a arder well stocked with meat,
and slowly and with care fed the young man,
who was as Weak as a child.

Color came back to the checks of Hart Hazel.
and his strength revived with a ra idity as

leasurablo as it was unexpected. f c drew in
ife renewed and intensified. He said little, but
ate a great deal—at intervals.

By and by he raised himself up and looked
around him. ' _

He found himself in a cabin of some kind.
From the appearances of the opposite side he
judged it was divided into two or more apartr
meats; and from a noise that he suddenly heard
in that direction his belief seemed doubtless cor-
rect. He could distinguish the sounds made by
some one just awakening from slumber.

The ho was absent from the room just now,
and Haze was alone. As he looked upon a cur—
tain of skins, it was suddenl swept away and
in the doorway then revea ed there stood a
woman.

 
CHAPTER XL.
THE MANIAC.

FOR a moment the rather weakly beating
heart of Hart Hazel stood still, at the sight of a
woman before him in that strange place. Then
the strokes ain came regular and full. This
Was not the p atom of his dream. ' '

“Who are you?” was the salutation of the
woman, as her glance fell upon the young man,
and in her tone there was a slight foreign ac-

cent.

Hazel’s eyes had dropped at the ﬁrst, but he
lifted them again an gazed ﬁxedly upon his
questioner.

Under his scrutin her glance moved uneasily,
and at length bro 6 down. Springing to the
outside door, she eagerly called:

“Charles, Charles!" '

Immediately there came the response of :

ﬁgs, glotlger," agd the sliloy tiailmtzsdt lastantly
ap er si e, as e urn again
face Hart azel.

The relationship of the two was patent 'at a
V lance, the same aloe-black eyes and midnight

air, the same neral contour of face belonged
to both. Yet 11 the eyes of the mother there
gleamed a light which now that it shone full
upon Hazel, senta chill through his bones. He
understood well the singular feeling which had
. him at ﬁrst sight, and the strange
reluctance to speak. The woman before him
was undoubtedly mad.

“Who is this man and where did he come
from?” /

As she spoke, the woman pointed'a ﬁnger
bon and shapely, at Hazel.

“ t is a young man who was guided here
I) the wolves, who I beheve were sent to
his aid b Florence. He had been wounded and
left for end. Even now he fainted away and
I feared much that he would die under my
hands. Believe me, mother, he is a true man.

“ Ay, true, perhaps, until tempted! Tell me,

ouug man, have you in your wandering seen

ugh Davis, a fair-haired {oung man of about
your own age? Perhaps a has even been a
comrade of yours. Tell me truly, pray !”

The voice of the woman was of a tone the
most mournful. Tinged a slight foreign
acCent the words, neverthe ess, fell with a gen-
tle sweetness upon the ear. _

Hart Hazel shook his head with a regreth
movement.

“No, My, no such Bouth have I known.
Others by the name of avis I have met; but
none bearing the name of Hugh. Would that
I could brin you good news of one that must
be near and ear to you.” ‘ "

“ You speak falsely, sir," sudden] responded
the woman her mood and vOioe c anging in-
.stantly. “ I know your voice and tone-I have
heard you in my reams. You come to steal
away my treasures.” “ But you shall not.
Even if I have to violate all laws of hospitality,
and lay you dead by my own hand across my
on three old.” , .

“ Indeed you are mistaken. My intentions are
to help rather than to harm."

“ No falsehood to me. You were with Hu h
Davis but a short time ago. You slept by t e

1.

rk Kenton, the Traitor.

23

 
are here; but where, where is he f”

“ Do not wrong me,” responded Hazel, speak-
ing on rnestly. “ The comrade of a few days ago
is indeed missing, but not through wish or fault
of mine. Whether he is living or (lead I cannot
indeed say. If the latter, none mourns his death
more sincerely than myself.”

“ He is dead then! Merciful Heaven, he comes
and tells me to my face that he is dead!”

“No, no! I do not say that. Form no such
idea. [believe indeed that he was taken pris-
oner by the very Indians who so nearly deprived
me of my life; but he may—may I might say,
must have escaped. His was an old head. He
knew every trick and wile by which savage
deviltry can be bafﬂed, and long ere this, he has
given them the slip, and returned to a safer
country.”

“ Returned! Left me? No, never! My own
noble, bright—eyed Hugh would risk all dangers
and remain. He would feel the presence of his
dear ones and stretch out his arms to them to
greet them after the weary night of waitin in
danger. W'here then is Florence? Why as
she not gone out to meet him, and face it with
him! I will go myself. Hugh, get me ready;
help me. See, I, the weak woman, wasted by
years of weary waiting, will go now to meet my
faithful Hugh.” ’

“ Pardon me, madam but pray be composed.
The comrade of whom I spoke can not be the
Hugh of whom you speak. He was a much
older man than my myself, a man past ﬁfty
years; nor was his name Hugh, but simply Burt.
He was a Texan, a borderman, and the guide of
the train with which I started out from St.
Louis.”

“It was my Hugh, it was my Hugh, for I
heard his veice in my dreams—and I-heard
yours. If you are the true man you profess

ourself to be, go get you forth to meet him.

ave him from his enemies, protect him from
all dangers and bringl him back here to me.
Haste, then, and save im.”

“Haste! haste! save her] save her!”

The sound of the curiously cracking voice
broke in upon the stillness that followed the last
up 1 of the crazed woman. Hart Hazel heard
it or the ﬁrst time without a thrill of supersti-
tious terror. He now recognized the nature of
the speaker. A large parrot came ﬂuttering
down from some unknown recess and seated it-
self upon the shoulder of the woman, at the
same time that, through the open door there
bounded the three wolves, who leaped and
fawned around her, as if to express joy at the
meeting.

An angi‘x look came across the face of the
woman. ith a frown, a shake of the head and
a scream she shouted: .

“No! no! no! She is safe, no dan r can
harm her—it is he that is to be saved. now
and keep the romise to me!”

But again t a parrot screamed, and this time
more shrilly, as if furious at meeting with con-
tradiction.

“Haste! haste! haste!
save her i"

A sudden paroxysm of rage fell upon the wo-
man. She clutched madly at the neck of the
bird, which eluded her grasp and ﬂew away,
when it took refuge in a tree and gave utterance
to a mocking, tantalizing laugh. Then with
rapid fury she matched 1: a cudgel and bela-
boring the wolves, drove em from the house.

Hazel had already ﬂed the scene. He knew
not what to do, and so, at a si from the boy,
who seemed to take the who 9 as amatter of
course, he passed out into the o 11 air.

For a. moment he left beh dhimafrantic
maniac who raved with wild laughter and
shrieks. Without, his company was but little
better, since the three to seated themselves at
a little distance from t 6 door, and in unison ut-
tered a long-drawn, mourn‘ful howl.

Doubtlea the boy had acquired a fund of nerve
from familiarity with such scenes. Hazel heard
for a few moments his calm, low voice. Then
the 110.;st demonstrations gave lace to a ﬁt of
frenzi wee ing which lasted or a short time.
After that
cabin home.

Just at this time, while he stood thoughtful,
doubtin , perplexed. there came to his ears the
sound 0. a single rifle-shot, evidently ﬁred some-
where m, or near, the line of the pathway he
had traveled but a short time before.

At this the boy came out and looked anxious-
liv around, as t ough expecting some one, or
kreading danger, which, Hart Hazel did not

now.

Save her! save her!

ere was silence within the little

 
CHAPTER XLI.
A SINGULAR CONTRACT.

IT is now probably time, in the mind of the
reader at least, that we go back and see what
has become of Bart Davis, the comrade of Hart
Hazel upon this weird and singular expedition.

It will be remembered that just at the time
when Larry Delain and the others cha ed out
from the timber line to the rescue of t 6 two
men the Comanches had succeeded in unhorsing
Hart Hazel and Davis, and in the panic succeed-
ing the charge, the Indians had still presence of
mind enough to perceive that he was neither

 
same camp—ﬁre, rode upon the same trail. You I dead nor mortally wounded, and to cast him

upon a mustang and hear him away as a pris-
oner.

When Davis came to his senses once more the
ﬁght, with the Indians, was about over. They
had halted and were debating what disposition
to make of their prisoner, and whether it would
be safe or prudent to retrace their footsteps and
attempt to avenge themselves upon those who
had put them to such igneniiiiious ﬂight.

For a time Davis felt that his life was in im-
mincnt danger; that it would be ultimately sac—
riﬁced if he remained in their hands he had not
a shadow of a doubt; but a little delay was
worth more to him just then than a fortune.
With delay there might be a chance for escape;
and escape was the ﬁrst thought that presented
itself to his mind upon opening his eyes again to
the world.

The more desperate of the braves seemed about
to carry the day. The faces of all were set al-
ternately toward Davis and toward the north.
Would they brain him at once, or would they
leave him there under a guard?

With angry exclamations four or ﬁve weapons
were poised—a moment more. and the troubles
of Burt Davis, for this world, at least, would
have been ended.

So intent were the Comanches upon settllilgﬁ
this question that for a few moments they
neither eyes or ears for anything else, and their
habitual caution was forgotten.

But Davis was not destined to die thus. At
the very moment when hope was descrting him,
what was his surprise to see an Indian of majes-
tic size and appearance bound befoxe the group
which surrounded him, and sweeping away the
Weapon of the nearest and most active 0 the
braves, stand surveying the party with a look
of mingled an or and scorn. ‘

Instantly t e noise and turmoil ceased.
Obedient to a gesture the raised arms were low-
ered, the brandished weapons put aside, and a
silence dropped upon all. The white man knew
that his life, for a time at least, was safe.

The chief who arrived so opportuner seemed
in no good humor with his warriors. n short
sharp tones he gave a few brief directions and
immediate return toward the scene of the late
conﬂict was peremptorin forbidden, and the
steps of the band were turned back to the shade
of the timber, when Davis soon found himself
seated, securely bound, but otherwise well treat-
ed. Closelnguarded, but otherwise apparently
unnoticed, avis remained for an hour or more,
when the chief ap roached him, and silently
scanned his face. mpassible, and without a
single change of feature, it was difﬁcult tosee
any eﬂect produced upon him by the operation.

Akt length, in a low and guarded tone be

e:

“What does the white man do here on the
desert trails of the great plain!

“ Who is he, and where does he come from?”

The ease with which the Indian spoke, and
the nature of his queries were sufﬁcient at once
to stamp him as one who had had frequent in-
tercourse with the whites. Doubtless he had
some of the rudiments of education in his savage
nature.

Thoro biz) surpnsed' as Davis was, he did
not hesita answer immediately:

“Two of us were on the Santa Fe trail and
ware lost on the desert. Just as we were hopin
that our troubles were over, your braves feﬁ
upon us without warning. My friend indeed,
and I am a risoner.”

“ The wh to man talks ve sweet now; but
he forgets to tell how many 0 my warriors fell
at his hands. What does he suppose will be
done to him?”

“ If your warriors had not attacked us we
should not have troubled them, on may be
sure. Whatever may be my fate I ope to meet
it like a man. You have the power, use ital
you see ﬁt.”

“The white men were not on the Santa Fe
trail, and they were not children to be lost onthe
desert. They were thieves and robbers who had
no business upon these hunting-grounds. They
are of the wicked white men who have
dared the Comanches and driven them to the
war-path, for revenge, and to recover what they
have lost. The white man shall die.”

“ Quite likely I shall die, red-man; but let me "

tell you that it is years since I was on this trail,
and that I have not harmed you or yours. There

may be thieves and outlaws—there generally ,
t

segue alo‘ng the border; but I am not of thn
m .

“ en tell to Hailstorm what you were do-.
ing here where it is bad for white or red to he
found one.”

“ I have told you. We started for Santa Fe,
and were drawn of! from the trail by—{ma
dream.”

“The White man‘s eyes speak the truth, the
same as his tongue: perha it is 30. Will the
white man aid his redbret at if his life isspared
to him?”

“Do you want me to turn my hand against
myown race? No! athousandtimes no! loan
die ﬁrst.”

“ Ah, the white man is one of the outlaws.
If he was a true man he would help any one
even a Comanche, who had been to " , “

vi.

 
 hension. Hew

. of joy, and belted them around his waist.

24

 
“Hold, right there, chief. Against robbers
and outlaws, who have no right upon their side
I could turn, especially to save my life. But
why should the (Jomanclies ask my aid? Can
the assistance of one white man be worth
enough, to cause your people to forego their re-
venge?”

“ f so Hailstorm orders. Does the white man
know this country?”

“ Yes, so far as it has not changed in the
course of years.”

“And the rocks and mountains of Devil’s
(Can on, as your people call it?”

“ was the ﬁrst white man that set foot there,
but that was years ago."

“ Then the white man mayr guide us and aid
us. Believe the words of Hailstorm. The Co-
manche is a child of the open plain. He can use
the lance, or how, or long riﬂe upon horseback:
but upon foot, in the mountains he is a child.
And to the mountains the robbers have gone.
Serve Hailstorm, then, and show that you are
a true heart, and Hailstorm gives his word your
scalp shall be safe.”

“ f Hailstorm will trust Burt Davis he will
ﬁnd his heart is whiter than his face. If I find
that I cannot aid you, then I will tell you so, and
you may work your will.”

Hailstorm, the chief, extended his hand, into
which Davis dropped a ready palm.
good faith, at least on the Side of Davis, this
singular contract was made.

nd thus it happened that after some devious

\ , wanderings, we ﬁnd him approaching Devil’s

vCauyon, half trusted, half feared; nominally

’ free, yet under constant surveillance.

CHAPﬁs—a— XLiI.

\ WHAT HAZEL MET IN DEVIL’S CANYON.

HART HAZEL seated himself to wait for the
storm within the cabin to blow over. That he

, had so far met with remarkable coincidences
with the main outline of his most singular
dream, was certainly true; and now he was cer-
tain that he was near the fruition of the hopes
which had led him upon this reckless adven-

- ture. He doubth not that he should soon see

the face of his dream, and he nerved himself, as
he sat there, immersed in thought, for the
supreme effort which seemed to him to be near

 ' - at hand.

The door of the hut opened and the boy ap-
peared, with his ﬁnger upraised, as if todemand
silence. At that time it was that both beard
suddenly and quite plainly the report of a. riﬂe
in the distance.

, The. twilight was upon them, but for all that
Hazel could see the boy start at the sound. He
knew himself that it must mean something, and
was immediaterl on the tenter-hooks of appre-

ispered;
' “I am utterly defenseless—have you arms
that you could furnish me?”

By way of answer the boy disappeared for. a
moment, and when he reappeared he held in his
hand a belt from which swung a knife and
revolver.

‘Hanel seized the weapons with an exclamatTi‘ili‘n

e

. s

1'.  ptood at his side and whispered into his

 
ear.
, ‘ “Think you there‘is danger? Who think
you, ﬁred that shot and at whom? We have

I .mver ﬁred a riﬂe in this region for years.”

“ I know not who may be approaching, but I

s. will gonad ﬁnd out, and return soon and apprise

said Hart Hazel.

I“ you
. Without delay the iyoung man passed away.
: .He strode up the hills
3 - land and hastened through the sheltering and
' concealing timber, until he reached the very spot

do, passed the bare neck of

ntwhich he turned from the ascending path-

 ‘ V, .
'13 .« Here he paused a short time and listened. He

"_ heard behind him the footsteps of animals, which
 be judged to be the wolf-scouts. They followed

at an uncertain gait, as if not really a prised of
._ . In time theyaglroaced near
enough to be plainly visible, an azel gave one

an
5.
t4

 hasty look ovar his shoulder to see if their ap-

, nce was amicable.

‘ xﬂnce was satisfactory. ' They were watch-
.ing road through the pass, but from time to
r time theﬁgave him an appeali look as if for
orders. a had none to ve owever. The
sounds below came less dist not y than ever and
he knew that the tide of battle, if battle there
was, rolled awacyutoward the north. A scatter-
or two t came faintly to his ears con-
him that there wore Indians upon the
trail of some one who fled. Should he go down?
was the on that now agitated his mind.
, While he istened and looked, uncertain what to
V 0, like a blast of wind, a horse and rider swept

 along the pathway before him.
The sounds died away ra idly, and with them
the wolvesalso ding r . hen Hazel went
m He cared not 11 for the trouble below—
‘the trouble was here. u the rider ﬂitti by he
was certain that he had recognized a emale
form. and he followed cautiously but rapidly on
trail. He knew not what might in before

 
above him-what of danger to h m or to
Mybut without hesitation he went.
 A few yards were taken in the a
m before the young man no

51".“ r ,v t g y . ,1,

parent road-
that thus he

 
In sincere-

, to the wild fastnesaes of t
'men wondered that he dared to go, so strange

 
/Hark‘ Kenton, the Traitor.

l

-_ .__~._.:

 
was thrown into the light, while above him all
was impenetrable.

All caution had not deserted Hazel. When
he observed this fact, he dashed to one side and 
ran on in the shadow. l

He saw nothing, heard nothing. and in ﬁve
minutes more was a bound, helpless and despair-
ing prisoner. v

CHAPTER XLIII.

THE BANDIT BAND.

ACROSS prairies, through valley, canyon, and
over mountains, a band of liorSeinen were pur-
suing their way.

They were well-mounted, their horses, though
rough looking, being animals of speed and en-
durance.

The men were over a score in number, and
they were all armed with riﬂes, revolvers, and
bowie-knife, with one exception—their leader.

He carried no riﬂe.

All were dreSSed in buckskin leggings, high
top-boots, woolen shirts, and sombreros, and at |
the back of each saddle was a leather pouch for '
provisions and a blanket rolled tightly and i
strapped close. Lariats him at their Sllddli‘r l
horns, and the men looked like a mixture of 3
American, Mexican. and Indian. I

A wilder, more reckless set of men were scl-
dom seen together, and their deeds of despera- 1
tion had been such that their chief was proud of ‘
them.

He seemed cast in a different mold.

He was without douot an American, but he
ivas attired in the costume of a Mexican cabal-

ero.

His saddle and bridle were of the ﬁnest work-
manship, and were weighted down With the gold
and silver money that ornamented them.

His revolvers were of the best pattern and
old-m )unted, and a short sword, with gemmed
ilt hung at his belt instead of a bowie knife.

is face was as stern as a Roman’s, and the
eyes were piercing and even restless.

He was not a young man, for he was border-
ing on ﬁfty years. am his hair was even ay;
but his form was erect, his carriage you bin],
and he seemed to be the possessor of great
strength and endurance.

Where he was leading them his men did not
know.

He was an outlaw, and had been such for a
score of years, dividing his time between Mexico
and Texas.

It was said by some that he was worth a vast
fortune, saved from his robberies for years. and
others were wont to state that he ave all that
he thus illegally got to objects of c arity.

A large rice. in Texas and Mexico, was you
his hea , dead or alive, and yet he seem to
have no dread of his foes.

I-Ie ruled his band with an iron hand. and it
was said of him that scores of men had been
slain by his act and his command.

He had called his men together and ordered
them to follow him.

The had prepared for along march also, by
his or ers.

Leaving their mountain retreat in Mexico, he
had led them across the Rio Grande and toward
the count of the Texan Comanches.

His destination was to the neighborhood of the
Devil’s Canyon, and for some reason known only
to himself, he was invading that land so shunned

 
by hunters.

When at last the count was reached, which
the1 ontlgw leader sought, turned to his band
an sai :

“ Men, for longgrears I have tried to solve two
mysteries tried follow two trails to the end.

‘ Frien hi has prompted me in the one case,
hate the ot er.

“ t has come to me that in the neighborhood
of Devil‘s Canyon, in this country where now
we are, dwell those that have sought a refuge
here, and it having been so found out by one
who is their life-long foe he has sent his tools
here to kill and destroy them, fonhis gain will
be at thereby. ‘

“ en I have met him, I may have appeared
his friend. .

“ I am his foe, and I shall thwart him in his
devilish work. I

“ I am here for that pu '.

“ His men are here as es, to find out all they
can for their leader, and those men I seek to get
into my power, and you must aid me.

“ You now know wh I am here, and I expect
your obedience in all t mg:

“The man who refuses obey in any order
that "I may give, let him step out of the ranks
now.

Not a man moved, and after waitin for full 15
minute, to see if he had one in his and who
cared to disobey him. he turned his horse and
once more took the lead, Benetratin further in-

e mounta n, where his

and weird were the stories told around the camp-
fires, of the count about the Devil’s Canyon.

That outlaw lea er was he that had once been
an honored soldier of the American Am in
Mexico, and whom the treac of afriend d
made an outlaw, Cant a, om Henry
Kenton.

 
CHAPTER XLIV.
MOUNTED AND ARMED.

" STRING him up!”

At the sound of that brief, stern order from
the man who here represented supreme author-
ity, the tu enty men who clustered around Hart
Hazel fell back a little, leaving him, with his
two uards the center of a circle.

“ . rope and a swing. The fellow is a spy
and shall meet a spy’s fatel Away with llllll’tO
the nearest tree!”

\Vitli an iinerring aim some one from the edge
of the circle cast a running noose, which coiled
around Hazel’s neck, lemving the long lasso
stretching away i ll fantastic curves. -

A man stepped out and raised the rope fro
the ground, and commenced coiling it over his
arm, preparatory to the departure for the near-
est tree, while a dozen voices echoed the sen-
tence:

“ Yes, he is a spy and a spy’s death he must
have. Hang him! ang him!’

Hart Hazel knew not into what hands he had
fallen, save that they were rough and desperate
men.

In a few brief moments he had been taken,
tried and condemned. At ﬁrst he attempted to
assuage the hostility of the men around him;
but one trial satisﬁed him that he had no chance
for success.

His self- ssession did not desert him. Though
he would ave held on to life it' possible, he had
after all, but little really to bind him to this
world, and his pride forbade that he should

uail before the outlaws, who now, in sudden

renzy, demanded his life. They would have
booted at is prayers even as they now mocked;
at his dignified silence.

“ Awa with him!” they shouted. “ He it was
that kil ed Rube Dade. He is a spy and in.
former.”

They drag ed him to a tree over an extending
{)ranch .pf w ich they ﬂung the loose end of the
8850.

By one last despairing effort Hart Hazel burst
the bonds which fettered his wrists and struck
out once, twice, at the two nearest heads.

The men went down, when. with ﬁerce cries,
three or four desperate men ﬂung themselves to-
ward him. But a clear, loud voice rung through
the gloomy cavern.

"Halt! Hold, there 1”

Back from the shadows, as if they were an an-
swering echo, came these three words. pow-
erful hand grasped Hazel’s shoulder. but every
eye was at once turned toward the spot where,
under the darkness, seemed doubtless to lurk a.-
confederate of the oung man in their hands.

Only a dark we 1 of bare rocks la before-
them. Even Hazel himself was start ed and
perplexed, not knowing whence or why the in-
terruption. .

“ Desist from that murderous attempt to ban
that man or take the consequences. Move ban
or foot, and you, Sir Leader die I” rung out the
m rious voice from the gloom.

n the dead silence there rose to the listening
ears a brief, harsh, jarrin sound; the click of'
the hammers of two revo vers drawn back to
the full cock.

“I have you covered, and I never miss my
aim. D01! your hat, sir! See, next, perhaps,
’twill be yourself that drops.” ,

The sound of a whistle and the crack of a re—
volver blended together upon the ni ht air. The
hat of the outlaw leader, who be but lately

ronounced Sentence upon the ca tive, fell to

e ground, pierced by a bullet. Kt the same
time, with a clatter and clung of hoofs, a dark
mustang, with eat, ﬂowing mane and tail,
dashed through c circle of astonished outlaws,
and up to Hart Hazel’s side.

“Ho! The echo _of Devil’s Canyon! See the
ﬂash upon the other side! There—”

“ The ﬁrst man that points a weapon in my
direction—he and you diel” came back the clear,
defiant tones. At the same time Hart Hazel
ﬂunlg himself upon the hack of the mustang as

cared, stri ing down the outlaw who had
the ho d upon his shoulder with one hand, even
as he snatched with the other a revolver (run:
his belt. Mounted and armed. Hart H van-
ished like a phantom in the shadow.

That the young man thus apparent] deserted
thecou eons riend, who was risk 11 all to
save his li e, was no fault of his own. 0 ani-
mal under him was one trained to go and come,
tofetch and c . From a colt up it had its
daiﬁly lessons and earned them well.

would have wheeled and gone not in
the direction indicated by the singularec 0; but
rather toward the t where was seen the
of the late]; when e sought to gragp the reins
none. h

for the a , he foun 0 animal
went at i own good pleasure and he was power-
less to stop or guide.

The mustang evidently knew the ground. Al-
most instantly it was out of sight of the aston-
ished group and dashing through a loomy gorge,
perfectly unknown to the rider. ith wonder-

ul sureness of foot it ﬂitted along the rough and
dagfems road, Sparring the rattling pebbles
:9 11;? without stay or stumble in the mad race
or e.

A man started into the dim vista ahead and

challenged the ﬂying rider.

\.

 
That howuallur". ﬂ

 
i
1

 
- — - ...  ,.- "

s

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

r...‘ 4,. -._. ..T....s.,_..4..,..._,._. an.-. . . .i .

25

 
tinel or vedette, Hazel felt assured, and. raised
the revolver that he still grasped determined to
use it when a little nearer. hie heard a chal-
lenge; then, before he knew it, his Singular steed
was upon the outlaw.

What followed in the next few seconds was a
matter for conjecture only. He left behind him
a senseless, bleedlingdcforpse, a broad hoof-mark

rinted u n its ivi ace.
p Onwarﬁgaiu, in a mad ﬂight—now through
‘a winding chasm, again through atreevstudded
glade. Behind came at last .a faint clutter of
hoofs, announcing that pursu1t had begun; but;
he feared not for the result so long as his steed
continued to retain its speed and intelligence.

At length he debouched upon the plain. Then
his horse made a sharp turn to the left and
stretched along t0ward the very spot where
Hazel had entered the mountain gate that after-

noon.

Whither he was being carried now he knew

not; but he thought it time to seek to check the

, and proceed with more caution. ,He
leaned forward and grasped the ﬂowing mane—
but the effort was vain. His progress was still
onward.

Something far ahead attracted the attention
of the mustang, though it did not check its
speed. Following with his eyes the direction of
he pointed ears, Hazel thought he saw far
ahead of him a number of dark forms, and by
instinct he remembered a similar looking line
which char ed upon Burt Davis and himself a
few days be ore, just at the hour of sunset. He
had been buried, then, as a result; he did not
wish to run the risk again of a similar catas-
trophe. ‘

In desperation Hazel leaned forward upon
the neck of the mustau until he could reach its
'aw. He gave it a su den wrench and sought
in that way to check and turn it to one side.
Flight seemed to be called for by the appear-
ance of this new dan er.

The mustang had its own sense of duty. At
this renewed effort to change its course it gave
8. might bound and then, almost in the air, a
sudden cap to the left. The animal went on
then after a way of its own choosing, for poor
Hazel remained in a confused and crumpled
heap where he had been thrown by the sudden
leap of the strange animal.

...__._

CHAPTER XLV.
Tim HUNTRESS AT BAY.

IN the gathering darkness that was closing
over the scene, when Comanches charged upon
Roscaro and his three cggidpanions, Burt Davis
judged that it was a g time to attempt an
esca Without much trouble he dropped, at
the rst favorable moment, from his mustang
tcthe ground, and then darted into the shades
which hung around the entrance to Devil’s
Canyon. To some extent the entrances of the

lace were known to him, and be aimed to fol-
ow t e winding route which he believed would
lead h in back to the trail over which he had
just come. By so doin he hoped to be able to
ﬁnd the man upon w ose track. some of the
Comanches had been tem irarily detached.
With him he fgncied be con (1 sufﬁcedl in pics:-
' from this an rous region. one, u -
gand for the timg: utterly discouraged, he had
no desire to continue the search which presented
itself to his mind as an indistinct dream.

Up the long acclivity Davis pursued his way
for some distance, until he was suddenly startled
b hearin the noise of foctsteps. Not knowmg
what mlg t be before him be halted and listen-
ed. Asa result he heard Hart Hazel‘s brief
strug 19 when attacked by the outlaws, and the
soundgs of the footsteps of the men who bore him

W . I
a High: was a quandary for Davis. To remain
stationary was to run the risk of being over-
hauled by the Comanches, who he was certain
would soon be in pursuit. To go back he dared
not; and he realized what would  his fate it
he Went forward. As the best thing possible
under the circumstances, however, he did noth-

m . I

{After a tiresome spell of waiting. DaVis heard
faint] single revolver-shot, followed soon
after by outs. ,‘I‘iieu some 'one dashed sw1ftly

ast him with a light and almost noiseless step.
Pie thou ht that this must be the person late y
captur , and that probabl his best plan would
be to follow on behind an see if he could not
reach some place of greater safety.

With this end in view he followed over a rough,
‘but practicable pathway, which led him directly
toward the Comanches.

Before Davis had gone very far,.he became
satisﬁed that the person he Was trailing was a
woman. Although it war tm - dark to catch
more than the faintest outline of her form, he
knew it by her gait, and the fall of her foot,

' A thousand strange fancies leaped to his brain
a. immediately. He redoiihled his caution and
‘ ‘ . ke t noiseleasly on her trail.

5y and by they began to descend: the neck

had been traversed and they were approaching
ﬁlo lain once more.

.Vﬁthout a sign of warning the woman sud-

' and silently fell to the ground. She leaped

  
to her feet again; and was confronted

!
by a form, dark and forbidding, which started

into sight. It was Pierre Roscaro.

Davis at the ﬁrst was not close enough to wit-
ness the effect produced upon both by the meet-
ing, or to hear the ﬁrst words of recognition;
yet he paused not but continued to worm his
way forward in si encc. In this girl he had felt
upon the instant an intense interest.

It was well that he did exercise all the caution
of which he was master. since, on gaining a
nearer ition. his restlesst roving eyes pierced
the dar ness sufﬁciently to make out three other
forms, which belonged to the three present com-
panions of Pierre Roscaro.

“We meet at last. do we?” Roscaro was say-
ing, when Davis ﬁrst was able to distinguish
what was being said. The man spoke in a low,
guarded tone, but full of bitter intensity.

“ M eyes have not deceived me,” responded
the girl. “You are that despicable villain,
Pierre Roscaro. Now that we are met, now
that you have found me, what have you to say?
‘What other, deeper, more damning Villainy was
left for you to do?”

“ Harsh, bold. words those to use, if I am such
as you state. Drop your tone a little, my dear
gir , and be less boastful, too. You are here
alone and powerless in my hands, and your death
would serve me about as well as your life.”

“ You are an utter and com ilete coward! So
you threaten me, do you? W at care I for you
or the other cut-throats I see lurking in the back—
ground? You murdered my father, and de-
stroyed my 1' mother, attempted also to mur-
der m brot er and me. Driven out like a pack
of wo ves intothe lonely waste of. this desolate
region, by fear of you, erre Roscaro, you now
come to see what further woe and wrong you
can work?”

“Girl!” exclaimed Roscaro, hoarsely, clutch-
ing at her wrist—“ Girl, I loved your mother,
my cousin though she was. I might have even
loved you, now that you have grown to woman-
hood, accursed daughter of that intruding Amer-
ican soldier, had you been content to have not
ﬂed from me. Who has mourned. more over your
mother’s death, loving her as I did, than I?
Could I tell that the execution of righteous judg-
ment upon a foreign spy and traitor as your
father was, would so turn your mother’s mind as
to cause her death?”

“ Fine words these; but of little moment to one
who knows so thoroughly as I your heartless

loveless nature. Betwoen you and me there can be ;
1 before him than a simple eacape from his late

nothing but a lasting hate, and 1 know that your
presence here is but to work more Woe, more
desolation, more murder upon me and mine, for
with us out of the way you hope to secure our
riches. I know you, Pierre Roscaro.”

“ For once you wrong me. I come on an
errand of justice. I have news for you, and it
was for your beneﬁt that I ﬁrst sent a scout into
this region to look for you; and then, be failing
me came myself.”

‘ You can bear no intelligence to me that I
will accept. Your hands are red with human
blood, and they would stain a message from
Heaven in the bringing. Your errand of justice
and on perish toggther.”

“ ay, wait! t me but explain. There are
vast estates to gain, and as your g ardian, for I
am our nearest of kin, I would t you in pos-
sesSion, save a little proﬁt in it to me rhaps.
They came by your mother’s side, wealt untold
that she dreamed not of. and I would—"

“Hold! The name of my mother should to
sacred from pollution by your lips. You, the
assassin, who under the form of the law, de-
nounced and murdered my father, shall not so
profane his memor . We have met by chance,
and suddenly—1 ope we may never meet
again. We ﬂed to this wildemess to hide from
you, and lest I should, with these bands of mine,
uven thOSe moat dear to me. Twice, when we
woulﬁehave sought the conﬁnes of civilization,
you drove me Out by an attempt to murder my
mother and myself.” ,

“ I swear to you that is false!” '.

“False! Would I tell you a lie? Now mark
me! If in the past there has been war between
you and yours. and mo and mine, henceforth
that war shall be to the knife. Should we meet
again, beware, for I will strive to lay you dead
at in feet.”

“ ’ar to the knife! Well, so be it. I have
wavered in my plans; I have thought at one
time to tame your proud spirit. girl—at another
to press: the right of my guardianship over you.
In either case I make my own fortune. If we
meet again? Nay. meet again, in this world, we
neve hall. I shall leave you here. By the
soul 0 our dead mother—"

“ Cal not upon my dead mother. Though she
be dead to you and to the world, she yet lives, a
shattered, mind-wrecked woman. EVen now I

hasten to her, by a difﬁcult path, to save her
from the hands of the wild outlaws who have
Ventured within the hitherto shunned conﬁnes
of these gloom canyons.” _ i

“ Is this trut ihat you are telling me?” asked
Roscaro, in an altered tone. '

“ l have never yet learned to speak aught else
than the truth.” replied the girl in aproud tone.
“ Now stand asidiI and let me pass. Take heed

e u, my warning. and beware of our next Pietro.

Roscaro  - i .,

 
' flyin

 
“ It is false, your mother does not live! It is
an invention of your own to save your worthless
self. You shall—”

Roscaro did not complete the sentence, but he
advanced toward the girl, who had fallen back
a few steps, and there was danger in the hand so
menacingly raised. She knew it; and she half-
guessed that were it not for the presence, in the
neighborhood, of the Comanche Indians, who
had already given chase to her, and possibly to
Roscaro, he would have attempted her life with
the revolver so conveniently at his hand.

Meantime Davis, who heard this conversation,
lay like one stunned, with scarce power of
motion. Had he been ssed of a weapon he
would have gone to er aid against the four.
As it was he allowed Roscaro and the girl had:
the ﬁeld to themselves, and until his support
moved he patiently bided his time. Once or
twice he half-raised hims. It with the inteutof
at the throat of the cool and deperate vil-
lain fore him: but as often, something he
knew not what restrained him.

A crisis had arrived and Davis nerved him-
self to meet it. The girl was to be saved at all
risks—and the girl was saved!

Past Davis there darted a dark form, which
plunged over the uneven ground at a marvelous
rate, until it halted b the side of Florence. It
was her well-train mustang! As Starlight
darted between herself and her foe, Florence
threw herself upon his back, and urged him to
full speed.

In a moment the girl was out of reach of pres-
ent danger, and Roscaro was left impotently
shaking a clinched ﬁst at the vanishing steed
and rider, for fear for himself prevented his
ﬁring his pistol, which would bring the Co-
manches down upon him.

CHAPTER XLVI.
THREE OUTLAWS LESS.

FLORENCE almost instantly disappeared from
the astonished Roscaro and his companions.
Pursuit was out of the question since she seemed '.
to be dashing straight into the arms of the Co-
manches who were somewhere beyond.

Seein this Davis checked the reckless, for—
ward p unge that he was about to make, and,
instead. while every eye was following the wild
huntress, sought safety in at least a partial re.
trm-ement of his steps.

 
Whither he should now go remained a mooted  ’

question ‘. He found that there was more work

capt \rs, and he stilled every thought of it, so

far at leastas he could, until he m' ht platen" :

himself in some spot of temporary safe y, where
he might fairly grapple with the stra , wild
tale he had heard outlined in the brie inter.
view.

Bitterly he cursed the fate which left him uns ‘
armed 'ust at that very moment when,had be Seen a
a sing e glimmering hope of success, he would
have hurled himself 11 n the villain sonear him, '
even though it woul
fearful odds. It was only through most heart—
racking experiences that he had gained the
superb self-control, which enabled him thus to
turn away in one direction while the Benoit-
Huntress of Devil’s Canyon vanished in another. :-

He questioned within himself whether it would
be feasible to return to Hailstcrm, who, of the

Comanches. had seemed to bear toward him, '1. 

something of a friendly, trusting feeling. Pore v
haps, he thought, he might impart the inf
tion which he had just gained, and strike a bar- -
gain for the endangered ones by leading 
Indian forces in an attack upon the outlaws. -
Whatever was to be done, however, was to be
done quickly. * .,
Throu h the darkness, then. with his heart ,;
heating oudly, his breath coming nick and 
fast, Burt Davis crept cautiously, wit an idea ;
of retracing his steps to the spot where be't‘i

dropped from the Indian ranches and ihen push I

“111g forward in silence and care until he rejoide k '
it em. I 
Without much warning he suddenly came  .'
on a little scene that caused him to halt and "
take an observation before ve turing further.
Just a little beyond him, and in he opening two 
men stood bending over a dark object which lay ‘;
at their feet. They felt it. they turned itover
with a touch rather gentle than otherwise, and
then leoked from it to each other, and simul~,
taneously seated themselves upon the ground, in,
a way to be as free as possible from obServation.
A roll in the ground, slight though it was, thus»

 
obscured them from sight from the plains  

vond. .. i,
The. whispers of the two men were low, but
their distinct hissing sound for that very masoq
came quite nlainly to the ears of the listener. , 
“ It is Bill. sure enough,” said the one on ' ’
felt along the breast of the corpse: intoﬂhich
tin shapeless mass now resolved imelf. ‘,_
“ Bill. an‘ With his hull head stove in. What
the red-hot blame d’ye" think c’u’d ’a’ did it!" 
“ It’s an crful mash. Pah! What’s to he did
  I ' if
“ Looks n. tho’ he'd been kicked by
.thousapd million mules all in one spelt.
leave him here an‘ take his place until

 
the .  _?
Dumed of II " c 
. ye" Section, or this yore .work.  I,

tain sends some One down.

 
have been to meet such.  H

  
orma-i '

 
V an.“ _.n

 
" me take a cluster squint to him, an

We was to meddle with the Comanche; they’re
arter us a-b’ilin’.”

“ Why didn’t they foller us straight in astead
o’ ﬂankin’ ’round this yere way? That’s what
I’d like to know.”

“ ’Cos they’d some one to lead ’em as know’d
the all-fired crooks an’ bends 0’ these kenyons a
dog—gonad sight better than we did. They mou’t
’a’ swept in through here, too—no one a—guardin’
till that youngster war gobbled.”

“ An’ why didn’t they come in?”

“ ’Cos there’s a better wa yet, I s’pose.”

" Cavalry druv us frum t 6 North, Comanche
frum the South, an’ here we’ve took ground at
the Devil’s Ken on. I wish ter th’ Lord I’s back
in old Texas. don’t like it yere nohow. I’ve
heard on it, an’ it tain’t healthy. Whar d’yer
s’pose is them scouts as war sent down to look
’round here?”

“ Don’t croak. Bill, yere’s, dead, an’ we can’t
do nothin’ fur him—it’s time we was lookin’
’round ag’in.”

The two raised themselves up and peered out
over the roll, across the plain.

“’Pears to me I see somethin’ else out there.
Take a squint.”

The other ave a look also.

“ It’s jist lined ’ith corpuses ’round yore. Let

you keep
him kivered with er riﬂe.”

The man mov away upon his errand, and
in a moment called back:

“Come yere, Mike, it’s thet feller ther chief

' called a spy ez sure ez gunsl

. “ That devil of a boss he left on hez shook him
of! and killed him fu’st, an’ then Bill.”

Hardly had the man addressed as Mike disap-
peared when Burt Davis was u n the spot va-
cated. At any other time to ro the dead would

, have been repugnant to his feelings, but now,
'impelled by duty and affection, he did not hem-
tate a moment. In a twinkling he had possessed
himself of the arms, which still lay by the side
of the fallen desperado. Then he in turn looked
over the swell of ground to see what was going

,. on.
The two men stood surve ing this second

“ ‘ brief

'Vcor

‘body in wonder. They turn it and twitched
it' one even spurned it with his foot.

What was Davis’s surprise to see this supposed
suddenly become animated and endowed
wit life. With a bound the man believed to be
dead was up and upon the ot er two. One
second for a breathing-spell, then from
the no. of his neck there suddenly ﬂash up a
bowie- nife, which as suddenly fell twice with
swee ing, killing strength upon the two outlaws
who opped, without any more articulate sound
than a brace of low moans.

The victor paused to give two more cruel
thrusts with his knife, then he hastened, with
knife in one hand and a revolver in the other,

‘ "directly toward the position occupied by Burt
Davis.

 
CHAPTER XLVII.
usme m consumes.

Tn: Eyes of Burt Davis were keen and quick.
In the 'm light, despite the hurried nature of

his observation, he recognized something famil-
riar about this man, who had done to death the
two outlaws. Unless he was most wonderfully

' mistaken it was Hart Hazel

Firm in this belief when the person was in a

 Vie: ards of him he whispered sharply:

l, Hart Hazel 1”
Upon the instant Hazel, for he it was, halted

., and in the same tone of voice ded:

Ins

“‘ Here! who calls Hart Hazel?
' - “ Thank heaven that we are met once more—
‘I am Burt Davis!”
: As he said this Davis rose to his feet and,
.i with ,extended hand, came across the short in-
.‘tervening ce.
The meet ng of these two friends was none the
enui—nely heart because of the surround-
. rcumstances. a moment brief explana-

“ tions had been made, and Davis had reasserted

- Vhisacknowl

su remacy over the youn
He drew aze to one side while he coul
y detail the only plan of procedure
which he thought to adopt. When he had done

 Hazel held out his hand.

hen he said:
'“ We are with each other in this and to-
er we will see it to an end. These Co-

; manches left me for dead. In fact I was re-

, surrected from the grave to which their hands

- me than to you. Hart Hazel.
; have heard of a more sin

sent me. Yet if you sa it is our only hopeI

. lshall” submit to your lea ership and tempt the

.“ It is indeed our only chance. I have seen
the woman of your dream, and she is more to
From her ii I

r resurrecﬁm

' than yours, even. I know t band’ of out-

, laws who have invaded these precincts. I know

them well. They are under the leadership of

‘ one Hark Kenton who would not have come
,. here except for some
 terror to the Texan an
’1 blot on humanity.

reason. They are a
Mexican borders and a

V I will join hands even
with Comanches to exterminate them, than h I

 
 ‘have‘always liked their chief, and pityhim; ut

 
i «nemhould not deal he does.” '

.V- ,.... .... .. .. -. .,. ...- .,.,..~.... .. ..

 
» . -2»... .T . 11—~.

“ And then, if the Comanches exterminate us?”

“ Fear not for that. The Hermit Huntress of
Devil’s Canyon is known to these Indians, you
may be sure. They pursued her but a short
time ago, yet it was through a mistaken idea
that she was now in colleague with the men of
Kenton. A Word from me can set that right.
And more, I know now, though no reference to
it has assed between us, that I have a claim
upon 'Iailstorm, the Comanche, for services
rendered in the past, which he had not forgot-
ten.’

“ Come on, then, though ﬁrst let me disguise
my appearance some little. I suspect that in
the fight with the Comanches I did more than
slight damage to some of their warriors, and it

would be as Well not to be recognized at first '

glance.”

With some repugnance Hazel np roached the
body of the nearest outlaw and too from it the
hat and blouse. By a few dexterons touches he
altered, to a rest extent, his outward appear-
ance. He loo ed like an honest man at a mas-
querade.

All this took but a short time. When he was
ready Davis led the Way, and they slunk out
from the jaw of the canyon, just as he heard
the footsteps of half a dozen men coming down
the pass behind them.

It was high time that they were moving
since there was no doubt but that the discovery
of the three corpses would create more than a
gassin ripple of excitement in the minds of

ark enton and his men.

The two pushed out beyond the precincts of
the pass for perhaps half a mile, bearing all the
time steadily to the left, though there were so
man armed men in the neighborhood, a re—
mar able stillness brooded along the mountain
range. Nota sound broke the silence, which was
oppressive in its completeness.

he two men made haste slowly. When
they had obtained a fair start they indeed
accelerated their speed; yet they strode onward
with the reatest care, lest they might be heard
by those hind them, or their approach be dis-
covered too soon by the Comanches.

In this utter quiet, there suddenly drifted
down to them, from far above among the moun-
tain fastnesses, which Hazel had trod but a few
short hours before, a Wild shriek. Deadened
somewhat by distance, it nevertheless was waft—
ed to their ears with a clearness that left little
for the imagination to suggest. It came from a
woman in deadly fear or peril.

Simultaneously the two halted to listen.

“ Hark! can you stand that?” exclaimed Hazel.

With a groan Davis res nded:

“ I hear it, and it in dens me: but I know
the only course which will be of any avail. We
must hasten to find Hailstorm. He and his
braves are waiting to be led into those fastnesses,
and with them we may accomplish much—either
to save or to avenge. Without them our lives
Would be wasted. Hark Kenton is on his
giant Put your best foot foremost: let there

no holding back.”

"‘ Let the white man wait! Hailstorm the
Comanche is here!”

From the ground, almost at their feet, there
rose up the tall, commanding ﬁgure of the In-
dian, who had been lying concealed. His sudden
appgarance sent a shiver through the shoulders
0 th white men since they knew that had he
so chosen, or had he been true to the ordinary
interests of the red-man, he might have sent a
feathered arrow into the hearts of both, as they
stood there all unguarded.

“ Good! Let Hailstorm listen, and run. It is
time that we were moving, and I have learned
much of the outlaws you would be avenged

upon.

“ And who is this that on have brou ht back
with you? Are all the w ite men frien to the
Comanches, that they come to their camps at
midnight?"

The Indian eyed Hazel suspiciously, and evi-
dently was upon his guard.

“ It is an honest white man, who has just
made his escape from the band of Hark Kenton.
I can back his being a friend of ours and a foe
of theirs. Are your braves ready for an attack
now upon the robbers? We can lead you to
their camp. We will aid you in the ﬁght.
We, too, have suﬂered; and we, too, must be
aven ed!"

“ he Comanches are not asleep—they wait
for the return of their chief, and the white
brother who has been wandering. Come now
and when the word is given, they will move,”
said the chief, and he beckoned to Burt Davis
and Hart Hazel to go with him. .

CHAPTER XLVIII.
wan IN ms HILLS.

As Florence, the Hermit Huntress of Devil's
Canyon, passed from sight, mounted upon her
ﬂeet mustang, Sonora Sam and the others came
up to Roscaro. Matt Horne did not wait to be
spoken to but immediately shook his ﬁst warn-
ing] at the Mexican.

‘ on heerd what she said now the rest of
yer biz must be with Kenton hisself. We’re his
men and in his pay, and war sent to scout down
hyar while he went on. I dunno that he wants
arythingmcreo’thisgal than togitherouto’

 
Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
.-..,......, .L

some trouble, an’ so we was willin’ to assist.
Now he’s hyar. ef you’ve ary barg’ins to make
he’s the man to make ’em with. Make up yer
mind quick, too; you’ve trusted us, an’ we’ll
trust you so fur. ithcr come in an’ see Hark
Kcnton hissclf, cr git outer this afore mornin‘.”

“ Blame ycr fur a fool, too, thet don't know
his own mind! Ef yer wanted her removed,
why didn’t yer do it? D’ye think we’d chip in
till we saw ye ante?"

Roscaro answered Sonora Sam first. He
turncd to him with some anger, and res nded:

“I find that Kenton has dealt doub y with
me, for he has let me take some of his men, and
then has come here with the rest of his band:
but the girl who cowed men like Delain and
Meyers might Wcll hold the drop on me, when I
dared not shoot for fear of the red devils down
there. Couldn’t you see that she had me marked
down from the moment that we met?”

Thcn turning to Matt, he continued:

“ So you two are of Hark Kenton’s band?
Well and why did you not tell me that before?
We know each other-“have met on the cattle
drives. .ucrosS the border. If you can thread
your way into his lines, lead on for my resolu-
tion is takcn now, at last; and t en ou did not
hear her? There are others near sides this
girl, and they must be looked after, for I sup-
pose Kenton mUs‘t now know all.”

“ They‘ll be looked after, never fear,” answer-
ed Home. with a malevolent sneer.

“ But I must see it done. I have been de«
ceived by those into whose hands I intrusted her
before: I shall see to it that I am not again.”

“ We kin lead yer in—it’s only that thar‘s so
many trails that we’re troubled. More kenyons
than Comanches, all on ’em leadin’ together,
'ce tin’ those thatleads nowhar.”

‘aballos was as imperturbable as ever, and
he said nothing. His cold, black e es were hid-
den by the darkness around, an when they
were not to be seen the man might as well be
dead for all the expression of opinion that he
gave utterance to. And even those eyes seldom
told tales. Why or how he had attached this
man to himself during the past dozen years, was
a mystery to Roscaro; but he had never cared
to ask himself on the subject. When questioned
Jose Caballos could 've shrewd answers and
suggestions; he seem in manyres cts a wil-
ling tool, shaped by some'strange orce of cir-
cumstances out of finer material than one would
expect to ﬁnd in the composition of such a man.
When Roscaro came, aballos came; where
Roscaro went Caballos went.

In this case no one asked for his opinion, and
as Roscaro went up, in company with Sonora
Sam and Matt Horne, to the inter-mountain re-
cesses to find Black Larry, and where Hark
Kenton had taken up, at sundown that evening,
his quarters, Caballos, as usual. following him.

Sonora Sam, from what Florence of the
Canyon had said, opined that the pass which he
had refused to follow a while before, led to the
spot where the outlaws were now camped. He
led the way then for a short distance over the
very track taken but a short time before by
Davis. He deﬂected to the right, however, and
met the pickets, who were descending in force,
and by them, after some little explanation, was
directed whither to go.

Hark Kenton, leader of outlaws though he

was had not the most inhuman a {ﬁnance of '
as

all human beings in the world. 9 rather

soft of voice than otherwise, and his counte- -

nance scarce] would have revealed that be had
been guiltyo all crimes from cattle-stealing to
throat-cutting. Thogﬁh he was indignan at
Sonora Sam and his y for their tard
ance, he received Roscaro and Ca
as much warmth as could reasonably be ex-
pected under the circumstances. There were
probably ﬁfteen or twenty men encamped
around him. The rest were detailed on the
various duties which needed attention.

Sonora Sam made a report. which molliﬂed
the mind of his captain somewhat. He brought
news to Hark Kenton which was indeed most
im rtant.

en Pierre Roscaro spoke, and he began to

u braid Kenton for following into those wilds.

hile he was speakin there came to theears of

all the same shriek w ich had been heard by
Hazel and Dams. and so startled then.

After a moment of silence:

“ My men are ﬁnding out some of the infernal
mysteries of these canyons,” said Kenton, coolly.
“ had thought to make a safe retreat here
when I sent those two laz whelps to yout the
recesses of these bills, do“. we wil have to
make a stand, since the Comanches are coming
so true and so hard on our trail. Curse them,
I thou ht the were thrown off the trail; it must
be the they ave stumbled u u it by luck.”

“ 01' have been led to it y the W111“ In“!
whom we saw with them,” suggesth Roscaro.

‘3 Yes—but listen. Someth ng not right is
301113 on beyond ere. My men have met With
a check, that is co n.”

There came from the point indicated the mud
of cries, shots, and a strange. indmﬂbﬁbb
chorus of noises. Then a man was '90“ M118
down a rough, narrow, almost precipim P6“!-
way, which might have been a dried-UP WOW!"
course.

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“ Here! a dozen of you men! There must-be
dan r—follow me!”
ith this exclamation, Hark Kenton rushed
up the pathway without stopping to hear the
report of the demoralized outlaw; and close
11 n his heels followed Roscaro and the rest.
T ey climbed, they scrambled, when they could
they ran, and soon the little park, on the side'of
which lay the cabin of Florence .of Devil’s
Can on, lay before them, brightly illuminated
by t e rays of the moon, which was shining
with great brilliancy.

CHAPTER XLIX.
SAVED.

ALONG the outer rim of clear ground, and to
the right, a man crawled on his hands and
knees, with progress that was painfully slow.

The outlaws, under the lead of Kenton ran to
meet him, and as they drew near, they perceived
that the feathered end of an arrow was sticking
from between his shoulders. Beyond, still fur-
ther, they heard a sickening, tearing sound, or
succession of sounds, but by what caused could
not at once be told, since they came from the
darkness which lay in a complete band around
the side of the hill.

“ What is this, you cursed coward l” shouted
Kenton, as he a iproached the man. “ What is
the danger? here does it lie?” _

The man gurgled out his response in horriﬁed
accents:

“The devils! The wolves! They shoot! they
tear! they scream! They have killed me!” _

As he spoke, the man looked fearfully over his
shoulder in the direction of the soundsfthen
dropped prone upon the ground, fainting, if not
dead

 
Kenton pressed on without pausing. Just as,
revolver in hand, he entered the shadow, three
immense wolves disengaged themselves from the
dark ball in which they had been entwined, and
leaped awa , being lost to sight almost as soon
as seen. hey left a mangled corpse behind
them, and it too, had a long arrow driven through
and through the body.

From the opposite side of the hollow another
of the outlaws came dashin up.. He had heard
the noise of a conﬂict, seen . enton and his men
enter the ark, and came to report what he had

,discovere , and to see what could be seen. With

his appearance there were still two men to be
accounted for; doubtless their lifeless forms
would be found further up the hillside.

While the man approached he waved his
hand wildly and shouted:

“ Forward] quick! There is a fu be 0nd; I
heard horsemen coming! Quick, to hol it!”

With the exception of scouts and sentinels

Hark Kenton’s whole band was grouped to-
ether around their leader, who now did not
esitateto take the advice given him, and as all
sprung forward, they caught sight, for a mo-
ment, of two dark forms, of a woman and a
boy, who ﬂitted from one neck of shadow to
another. Be ond there sounded, clear and full,
the ring of oofs, telling of the approach of
some reckless rider. 6

Half a dozen riﬂe and pistol shots rattled
harmlessl around the fa 'tives and they pass-
ed from ht unharmed. hen still further on
a sin 19 mounted person came into view. It
was lﬁorence of Devil’s Canyon. Running to
meet her were the two fugitives, the woman and
the boy.

With a word and a motion Florence checked
the speed of her horse, which turned as thou h
mounted on a pivot; the two fugitives att e
same time again darting into sight. They ran
up alongside of Florence, who sprung lightly to
the round. .

“ '3 she,” hoarser whispered Roscaro to the
outlaw chief. “Five hundred doubloons if you
kill them or bring them down!”

“Hold!” exclaimed Kenton, as he saw his
men raise their riﬂes. '

command came too late, for a rattling
volley followed the order; but under the ﬁre the
men saw the , woman mount the horse late! va-

‘ cated by the girl, and dash away. The gir and

boy on foot ollowed, and in a moment more
were lost to sight. As they disappeared the
long, lugubrious howl of three wolves was
heard from in front, while behind and above
clattered the hoof-beats of several mounted out-
laws, who had taken the upper trail on hearing
the noise of the shots.

All these events passed rapidly as the changes
of a dream. The action of the tragedy never
ceased for an instant, but surged along m a toy.
rent of seemingly natural circumstances. It
would have taken a nimble writer to keep a
chronicle in pace with the events as they oc-
curred there in that Wild canyon.

Without hesitation Kenton and his men
bounded along on the trail of .the fugitives. In
scarce] an appreciable portion of time there
suddenly yawned before them the jaws of a
narrow pass, which led into the heart of the
solid mountain, and at the same time there rang
out a clear, commanding girlish voice, which
thrilled every heart, and rhaps brought a
ﬂush of shame to a few of t e faces in the surg-
ing crowd of desperate, armed men.

“ Halt! Hold there !—stand I”

The sound came from above, and every eye

. ' Hark Kenton, th

 
. A,.v..,. -c» 4. V

was at once turned in that direction, while near-
lﬁ] every one used at the sudden command.

e foremost 0 those that did not heed received
an arrow in his shoulder, which came from the
opposite side of the pass.

“ I am well protected and I hold six lives in
my hand. Wait ten minutes and we will retire;
come on now and it is at your peril,” came the
ringing words from the canyon.

Kenton detached two men to the right and
two men to the left, then glanced at the situa-
tion.

The moonlight streamed straight and full
upon the outlaws, but the girl was invisible; she
was lurking somewhere among the rocks above,
which commanded the entrance to the narrow
pass. He knew that doubtless some one was
hidden upon.the other side of the canyon. and
he heard the strokes of the ﬂeeing steed echo
fainter and fainter beyond.

The check was of but brief duration. The
command of the entrance was to be won, the
girl and her companions taken, and the Co-
manches to be guarded against.

With a yell of deﬁance the outlaws dashed on,
and loud run the order of their chief:

“ He who arms that girl or boy, dies by my
hand 1”

Florence redeemed her threat. Under that

rushing attack she never ﬂinched. As the us— ‘

aailants came nearer and entered the range of
certainty, with deadly snreness she opened upon
the advancing bandits. '

Crack after crack her revolver rolled out
leaden harm. lVith marvelous quickne s it was
raised and dropped in her hand, and with each
fall of the wrist the hammer fell, under the
steady pull upon the trigger of her nervous
second ﬁnger, and the report followed—and in
the midst of the shouts and shots Hart HaZeI
came rushing through and to the edge of the
pass, outrunning the Comanches, under the spur
of the battle-sounds ahead of him. But there
1v;ere others close behind him, Burt Davis and

art.

Har‘el came to the end of the pass just as the
last load went from the revolver of the girl.
Despite the yells and shots and turmoil before
him, that last shot fell upon Hart Hazel’s ear
with telling distinctness, and as thou h by magic
he comprehended the situation. way above
him, ensconced in a niche in the rocks which
protected in front, behind, and upon the left, he
saw an indistinct and shadowy form. It was
Florence, crouching, while with the rapidity of
li htning she recharged her smoking weapon.

azel’s lance went a yard or two higher up.

There, caning over the edge of the rocks,
fully and boldly relieved in the streaming moon-
light. Matt Home was in the act of drawing a
pistol down upon the girl beneath. What that
action boded Hazel knew full well. With a
crash the words heard in his dream, rung
throu h his ears:

“ aste, haste! Save her, save her I”

From his belt to a deadly aim his revolver
ﬂashed up. and as Home’s weapon, almost as
rapidly pointed, hovered on the eve of settle-
ment- upon the head of Florence, Hazel‘s bullet
went deep into the ontlaw’s brain. The stricken
man on the instant 8 read wide his arms, then
drop from his perc , striking heavily against
the girl below. She. toppling over, fell downward
—and into the outspread arms of Hart Hazel,
who had sprung forward ready to receive her.

CHAPTER L.
A DEATH SCENE.

Tm: strength and dexterit of Hart Hazel
broke the force of what mi t otherwise have
been a fatal fall to the girl. ’11 unnerved as she
was by the suddenness of the event, Florence lay
limpl within his arms and suffered him to carry
her 0 our to the overhanging rocks.

The shot and fall were 0 served by the out-
laws, who set up a shout—and the answering
walls of the pass sent back a wild and terriﬁc
response. Upon the instant the band of Co-
manches charged out, with Burt Davis and Hail-
storm at their head.

It could not be called a surprise, yet the result
wasa fatal rout of the outlaws. .At the very
first shock,when perhaps a vigorous stand might
have enabled them to prevent the Indians de-
ploying from the contracted deﬂle, Kenton’s
men broke away in sudden panic. Without
pausing to see the size of the attacking force
they turned dismayed and set their faces toward
the spot where, through the (firecipitous path-
way, they had entered the wil rk.

In the meshes of this networ of retreating
outlaws a youth was entangled, who had no
business to be there.

When Florence fell, her brother, from the po-
sition where he had been dealing out with ready
bow and arrow noiseless death-shots, saw it and
not understandin the cause leaped nimbly
down the rocks be ore him—and into the hands
of two men, who swung him into the crowd,
which then retreating bore him away.

The mounted men and the men on foot left
the bloody precincts by the separate routes over
which the had entered. Hark Kenton and the
men with im however much they stormed and
blasphemed, thought of no way of escape but
ﬂight, and they sought to regain as quickly as

 
e Traitor.

 
27

possible the horses they had left in the lower
canyons.

As he ran the outlaw leader was angry with
himself for being embroiled in the fatal ﬁght, in
which he had been caught at disadvantage by
the Comanches!

He had discovered that Roscaro was com-
ing there to play some deep game, and he guess-,
against Whom, and so he had come too with his
hand. Then too he had met and loved an Indian
girl, a Comanche, and he had hoped to see her
and bear her away as his wife.

He remembered the captive girl now and
wished that he had never seen her, that he had
paused before he crossed the path of the affec-
tions of HailSl’Ml‘lll the Comanche chief. Had he
done so the Indian sleuth-hounds would not have
be an upon his track, he would not have been
driven to bay Within these mountain recesses,
and but for the presence of the Comancheshe
might have played the game against Roscaro in
a way that would have been pleasing to himself.
Florence of Devil’s Canyon he had meant to
save from Roscaro, but the intriguing Mexican
had with promises of gold, demoralized his men
and gotten them out of his control. Bitterly he
re etted coming.

[‘00 late these thoughts now, when his men
were falling by his side. Too late as he burst
from the path into the glade in which he had but
a few hours ago made his camp. He sprung too
ward the line of horses which were picketed with
military precision, and was about to bound into
the saddle when the men
ballos, came swarming along the line of horses,
and all was hot eagerness to be away in ﬂight
The panic was not yet allayed: they made no
useless effort to stop Hart Hazel and Florence
the huntress, who led the Indians as they came
swarming down the valley. The radiant moon-
light still made them a ready mark: the dark
shades still concealed the assailants.

There was mounting in hot haste and a head-
long ﬂight; but the sense of security gained by
being once more in the saddle was beginning to‘.
have a tranquilizing effect, when suddenly ﬁre
was opened upon them from in front. at the same
time that Hart Hazel and the rest opened from
the rear. To complete their demoralization,
they perceived that they had neglected to take
the sharp curve to the left and had rushed head-
long into a cul-de-sac which was surrounded
save at the point of entrance, by walls impas-
sable by horsemen.

The outlaws wheeled and charged backward
to force their way out. With foes behind them
it would not do to attempt to hold the otherwise
defensible position.

It was now a race for the turn in the Tpass—a
race in which neither party won. he 00-,
manches and the outlaws came together with a
mighty clash of battle which dropped more than
one rider or horse on either side.

Of the unhorsed, Sonora Sam was one. and as
he struck the ground, Roscaro, mounted and un-
harmed, passed over him, and dashed throu h
the opposing ranks, with Caballos by his side, 1: e
latter as cool and imperturbahle as ever, appar-
ently on] riding to save his life and keep pace
with his riend, since his Weapons remained un-
drawn at his belt.

Instantly Sonora Sam was upon his feet, his
hand still retaing the ready revolver. He aimed
it at the nearest of the advancing foes, and pull.
ed the trigger.

The line was now not many aces distant, but
the bullet missed its destin mark. At the
same moment a horseman near by ﬁred. It was
Kenton the Outlaw. At the sound of the shot,

 
with Roscaro and Cas”

\ 

l

Roscaro threw up his arms and pitched heavily '

from his horse. H
With statge-like coolness Caballos halted, dis-
mounted an
the very hoofs of the now intermixed combat-
ants.
The tide of combat rolled away. The two

captives of the outlaws were safe in the handsof M

their respective friends. and the remnant of the
band pushed, cut, fought, and ﬁnal] that
their way through, gained the pass, an ﬂed far
away from the scene.

\

I"

Caballos remained alone with Roscaro,who4 "

was dying, killed by Kenton, who, moved by
some strange im ulse when he saw him escap-
ing. had leveled his istol and fired.

‘ This is the end,’ said Roscaro faintly, as he
looked npinto the face of his com anion.

“I am afaid it is,” responded aballos slowly,
and with a solemn emphasis.

“ Yes, the dreams of immense wealth that have
been mocking me are fading away. Fora score
of years I have followed the phantom that seem.
ed so near and yet so far, and here it all ends.

“ I sought to win wealth through my cousin,
and failing, I have sought to be avenged n ‘
her, and upon her children; but here it now
ends.
moment.”

“ Fate or something else,” interposed the.
other, with a peculiar intonation.

Roscaro raised himself ugh his elbow With L

inful effort,a d looked to the eyes of lab:

end suspicion y.

“ What else?” he said.

“ The Church.”

“The Church?"  >- ‘

i, r

l’

.‘w .

kl.

bore the wounded man from under 3 ,

 
Fate has always stepped in at thelaot~ .5.

a“...  . K,

 
28

~4- W 1.7-.- \‘ .. ... a..." >v- ,.... .t s . k ... ..

T.

Hark Kenton, the Traitor.

 
“Yes, the Church, which held and holds an
interest in those immense estates which now will
‘ never be yours. When the American came and
‘4, married your cousin, it saw that perhaps, in

case of her death without issue, it would go to

the Church.

“ It watched the maneuvers which killed the
American through your acts of treachery, and
which drove the mother, daughter and son out
of Mexico. Through all your reckless windings

on were tracked. You were plunging into the
ds of the Church, and as it could not check
you, it let on play your own game with its eye

11 1) you, etermined that you should never rob

woman, Isbel Varona that was, and her
children of their rights.”

“ Curses! I believe you tell the truth. I saw

' it, and I made this last move to provide a ainst
it. I thought the mother was dead, an that
z in this Hermit girl and her brother, I had the
heirs, and I could use them for my ends, or kill
them and thus claim the estate.”

“Yet they all live. The man is dead who
was holdin betwoen you and them, and for-
tune; but t e heirs are here, ready now to step
into possession. The little estate which you
succeeded in plundering Davis of, is but a drop
in the bucket. I fancy the business of the
Church amber agents in this direction is at an
end, for We to whom the wealth belongs will
I now claim their own, and no longer have cause
for fear.”
~, “ And the agents—who were they? Agents of
 the Church?”

’ “I am one. I am a priest,” was the calm re-
 ply of Caballos.

' ‘ / And in the years in which I have known
ydh as a friend and ally, you were the paid tool
and y_”

“ Tool. perha , and spy—but not paid. Who
so poor as I? y work has been given freely.
At the end I should have unmasked a wicked
‘ Villain. I shall never go again whither I am
? sent—-in life or death I shall never see you any

more.”
' Never any more. The painful solemnity of
words and tone struck heavily upon Roscaro,
. . who now lay almost motionless upon the arm of

 “Caballos, and whose voice was dwindling down
I r to a thin Whisper.
.-  He closed his eyes and remained motionless.
“ ballos bent down over him and listened.

"There was just the softest ﬂutter of breath
through the open mouth: below, from his
‘1 woun: ed chest. there came a bubbling sound;
 then a ﬂeck of foam appeared upon his lips.

11, ,‘ Pierre Roscaro had not, throu h life, seemed

 those who knew him, so vio entl vicious;

our thorough] wicked man so] om does.
"if; the usualy impassive taco of Caballos-
 ‘ stole a 100k of pity. He put his hand up-
.»on the clammy brow of the vi lain, over whom
for £32“ he had been exercising surveillance,
had n infact shadowing him as a detective.
, “Repentl Confessl” I

_ T Tigﬁelyes opened they were glazmg fast.

1.; For a monient the gleam of an intense despair
‘ triumphed over the ﬁlm of death. The words
I of remorse came as though drag ed out from-a
‘ rhuman power holding them ihack.
. ' ‘ITconfess—all! I repent and ask forgive-

I’

Caballos looked thoughtfully at the d ing
man; he cau%ht the agonizingédyearning g eam
,, hhise es. lowly he replac his hand upon
. the dar brow.

“ As a priest, I absolve you i”

b(goinvulsive struggle, one clutch with out;
otretc anus, a gasping, gurg ing groan an

rre Roscaro was dead. .
’ A shadow fell athwart the corpse It the mo-
nt and Caballos looked uﬁ. .

 Delain and Hank eyers stood before
‘ himwazing down u n their late employer.
' " hatto do With ther yaller-haired gal of
vil’s Gulch won’t tr'ubhle him no more. His
sic ' its is passed in. We’ll pass out now—afore

_, manch’ hez a chanct to show the’r grat-
' 00d. Good-by! Our wages is paid."

The two turned as silently as they came and
0s was again alone with the corpse.

f

 
U

 
CHAPTER Ll.
ran: ournaw’s s'ronY.

f I)! the charge of the Comanches, and the flight
if the outlaws, Hart Hazel had pressed on With
t vigor, and close by his side, had Florence
Devil’s Canyon been the while.

‘ Suddenly they fcuud themselves separated
' m the others, and out before them with his
‘ raised above his head, in token of surren-

had step a tall form.

clhstantlvi was covered with revolvers held
by Hart Hazel and the Hermit Huntress.

. ‘SMy‘hands are up! [Is it not proof that I
, mean you no harm?
~ - “You are the chief of the outlaws?" said the

 g? I an] Kenton the outlaw in Texas, Don

 
lla the bandit in Mexico.”
‘-"I have seen you before.” .
“ Yes. to night. and I sought to save you from

_ Roscaro.
‘ ‘.  method it was that you tookto

  
. ‘ in 
,;..v'v\‘t' "ﬂ".
, F?-'.~(I' *9

befriend me-attacking me with your out-
throats.

“' But I have heard my mother speak of you in
the ast.”

“ hen you should know that I was your
friend, for I was hers in the long ago, yes, until
now, and until death her friend, and yours.”

come here- with you cruel men at your back to
hunt me down?”
. “ let me tell you two reasons for my com-

0'

IHR'Wen."

“Let me go back to the past, and tell you
that once I was a soldier of the American army,
honored and respected.

“ One I deemed my friend, was a spy, and to
shield himself be sacriﬁced me.

“I was sentenced to be shot as a spy, was
wounded b the ﬁre and escaped.

“I woul not go to join the fees of my

them.

your mother and your father.

and became his wife.

“ Your father and mot" or were persecuted by
Pierre Rziscaros, who sought the wealth of the
Varouas. '

men for secret Work.
one that he was coming here.

brother had ﬂed from Mexico, and I believed
you were hidin
might be the ild Huntrcss of Devil’s Canyon,
of whom so much was said along the border.

“ I determinedto also come, and I did so.

“ I had another motive.

“ VVheu I wax once wounded, Lallaree, a.

that her mother had been a white captive and
she wished to leave the tribe.

“I loved the girl, and I hoped to steal her
away from the Comanche village. which I
knew was not far from Devil’s Canyon.

“ I got here to find that the Comanches were
on the trail of Roscaro and his men.

“ I joined Roscaro, or rather he came to me,
for self-protection, ﬁnding I was here, and I
sought to capture you, fearing you would es-
cape and I wished you to know all.

‘I told my men I would kill the man who
harmed you—”

“I heard you say that,” said Florence.

“ But Rosearo’s promise of gold made my
men wi d, and you know the resu t.

“ When forced to ﬂy I saw that Roscaro
would escape. '

“ I care little for human life, and I determined
to do one good not for you, to free you from that
man, so that you could go back, with . your
mother and brother, to your home in Mexico,
and enjoy the wealth that is your own.

“ I therefore killed Pierre Roscaro.”

“ You killed him?” almost shouted the girl.

“ Yes, he lies over yonder near that large tree,
dying, and a man that I know to have once
been a priest, but who, for some reason, has
herded With Roscaro, is with him-

“ Now you know all, and you can tell your
mother girl, who it was that took the life f
Pierre Itoscaro and avenged he ' noble husband.

“ Tell her that I, an outlaw, have avenged her.
and that from today I no longer sin, for I will
go far away from here and devote my life to
good deeds, to repair the evil I have done.

“ God bless you, girl, and adios.”

Without another word he turned away, and
neither Hart Hazel or Florence said aught to
detain him..

‘ A self-confessed outlaw, they made no hostile
demonstration against him,.but saw him mount
his horse and ride away in the moonlight.

From that day Kenton, the outla V, was never
{ileardl oé agginkalong'the barrier, and it“ is to be

opei t at e opt his wor in tr ing to re fr
the evil he had done. y pal

CHAPTER LII.
'rnn: HERMIT HUNTRESS.

ABOUT sunrise. Florence, of Devil‘s Canyon
mounted upon a fine mustang and accompanied
by Hart Hazel, Davis, and the three wolves,
dashed out through the grass. by which the
Comanche had made t eir entrance. into the
valley where the Huutress had lately had her
abode. The girl‘s face new wore a singular ap-
pearance. The stem brittle look had been swept
away, and in its stead was one of satisfaction
and yet of hope.

The Wolves ran on in advance, with their noses
down—they were trailing Starlight.

Before long the trail itself became ViSible,
when the plain had been reached. and- the little
party followed it at a swinging gallop.

In an hour‘s time a number of miles had been
flun behind, and Florence saw that the tracks
haeated straight for a motte which lay not far dis-

n .

“Follow slowly while I ride on in advance.

I think this is the limit of our chase, and there

 
~ will be some preparation to make.”

   
“ And with such professions of friendship you ,

“ I loved your mother with all my soul, girl; I,
but she loved my former friend, Hugh Davis,  features and a ook

Comanche girl, saved my life, and she told me ,

 
l

“While their chief I was able to befriend that he saw was a girl 0

l

i

 
l

l

 
l

i

The girl dashed on ahead and was soon lost
to sight among the timber. When the two
men had come to within a short distance they
halted and waited.

The sound of weeping fell upon their ears:
after a few moments Florence appeared at the
edge of the timber line and beckoned with her
ﬁnger to Davis. who threw himself from his
horse and ran forward to i’oin her, Hazel re—
maining where he was, for tie meeting about to
take place was of too sacred :1 character for
stronger eyes to witness.

To his surprise Florence soon reappeared and
walked thoughtfully toward the young man.

“Mother is wholly herself once more, and
wishes to be alone with him. Father’s coming
has caused her to regain her mind,” said the
girl simply, and leaned her elbow upon the
back of Davis’s horse

Hart Hazel strove in vain against the tempta-
tion; his eyes would wander toward the young

country, but being cared for by outlaws joined , woman who stood so near to him. He scanned

her countenance with furtive fyet eager glances.
‘ twenty, with a
suberb form, an eye of clear, deep blue, a
wealth of ﬂowin , golden hair, exquisitely cut
brave, noble, womanly.
More to herself than to Hazel she ﬁnally at-
tered:
“ If only poor Charlie could be here.”
“We can soon be with him again and his

“A short while ago he came to me to get : wound is slight; it is not probable that it will

disable him more than a day or two from ex-

“ I gave him all he asked for, and was told by ertion.”

“I know; but it seems to me as though we

“ I knew that your mother, yourself ' and i should all be together now, if ever.”

A desire. for talking seemed to seize Florence,

here, and suspected that you I and She continued:

“' Ours is a strange story, is it not?”

“ I have heard some of it——can guess much of
the rest; 'et I cannot say that I fully under-
stand it. lad your mother spoken of Burton
Davis, I might have guessed Something of it
sooner. Your father was a reticent man; he
told me but little of his past life.”

“There is no mystery about it. It was only
that he did not wish to bring up harrowing
recollections. His name is Hugh Burton Davis.
He was, as you know, an American ofﬁcer, who
remained in Mexico after the war, and wooed.
won and married my mother, who had a small
fortune of her own, and was heiress to large
estates upon the death of her father. Pierre
Roscaro was a cousin of my mother and a rival
suitor. He brought down upon my father the
hand of the suspicious Government of Mexico—
as we thought with fatal force.

“My father was arrested, quickly tried, and
thrown into prison, doomed to die.

“ His escape, as he told me last night, was
miraculous.

“ A number of men were also doomed to die
when he did.

“ One prisoner, who was under life-sentence,
was in the cell with my father, and told him he
preferred death.

“ He asked my fathejo let him take his place
in the death line,. and he did so, the change not
being noticed in the darkness.

“‘He was shot and my father lived, and was
that night sent to a different prison far a“ ay.

“ No one knew the difference there, as he was
unkn0wn to the-guards and he was so posed to
be the life-prisoner, am was putto worIc, ~

“ It was years ere he made his escape.

“ But at last he was able to do so, and feeling
that in- the change that had come over him he
Emuld not be known, be determined to venture

ome.

“ Wiien my father. in disguise, revisited our
old home, he found the mansion deserted, and
the estate, as he supposed, in the hands of the
Government. Responses received to guarded in-
guiries caused him to believe that his wife,

aughter and son had been slain, and so it was
that he became what now he is, a Texan guide
and hunter.”

“But how came he to adopt this strange her-
mit life?” .

“ Roscaro, who disc0vered where my mother
had fled from hiln. found me at a place where I
was being educated, and made an attempt to
get me in his pOWer. i r

H At; this my mother’s shattered senses gave
way; though I did not understand it then.

“ She IOI'IIWd a mad scheme; she ﬂed to this
wilderness, bringing with us all that we needed.

“ The Conianches became our friends, and
here we have long lived.

“ WP baVe taken kindlyto the adventurous
life. How we trapped and hunted, how I gath-
ered around me a. few strange petS. who were a
comfort and an aid—of these and many more
things I need not tell you. But we are reunited
at last.”

“NOW tell me, pray, how came you to visit
our camp that night upon the desert. and why
did you ﬂy When 1 started from my slumbers?”
asked Hart Hazel.

“ Strangely enough. My mother—whose mind
was only really unsettled when thinking of my
father and our dangers—dreamed that hi r hus-
band was returning—that be was lost upon the
desert—that he lay dying by the side of that
spring. She forced me to go out to reconnoitcr,
and knowing the place well I left not within}

~......‘.
.

   
..._ . .4. Mm .. «N....1 Mu.-


i
l

      
Hark Kenton, the Traitor. 29

 
brother, and carried by ﬂeet Starlight Whoa BY MAJOR LEWis w. CARSON. BY BITOKSKIN SAM (Major San. 8. Hall.)
the lace. 278 The Three Trapper: or, Tho Mount-win Mon-cor. y u o9 "m.
l “ t was my mistake in plains-craft. .Until .33 [nan Joe; or,Tiio Willa spirnonhe H.i.ls. .84 253d?“ ' Bum” "’ Bum u" “n‘
z the last moment a disbeliever, I then looked for no Giant George; or, The Ang'l ofthe Ran”.
if but one, saw but one; and that one a stran r.” BY W. J. HAMILTON. :75 Arizona Jack; or, an... Goorgo’o ma. 1
K “ You ﬂed from that one, though?” Said 1, o; The Be. 3”“.91,“ . M, The Tux" Ann,“ 897 The Tarantula of Taoo; or, Giant Goorgo’l Rump.
* reproaohfully. 35 undo “In” or. A Lif. {N . Life. 607 The Strange Pard; or, Little Bon’o Death Hunt.
‘ ‘ “ es§for I had no time even for a breathing ‘n 3.“ To... water“, .5, Tm" mm,“ ‘18 Ker-whoop. Ker-whooz or, The Tarantula of'l'hoo.
‘1‘ spell. et afterwards I think, perhaps, I made .37 nu. m“, m. c". K...” 0,, 3,: PM, Scoop. V as: Creeping Cat, the Caddo ; or, n. rm and White rude. ,
  amends. I mIet1 33th some agentures, I saw an Frio Fred: or. The Tank-w-y’n Trim. 
1, a you coming, 1 my train scouts out to m The Fighting Trio; or,RmIm-ke,ihe Tonhavay. ‘
‘  watch, I sent them for tidingsfand from their BY CAPTAIZFEFD' “yum-TAX”; 849 Wild Wolf: of. Bis-Foot W-Ilmw the Fran.
r actions I could learn much. 'I'hen at last they 1‘ The “'0‘”: "" '° "°“ °' QM“ 851 The Ranch Raiders; of, The Siege of Fort rug-my.
I? brought you to our house; and—~you know the '9 T“ mm" I "‘3‘ “Th” D"‘° ' D"“""‘" “4 Snap-Shot, the Boy Ranger.
is rest) 43 "k" mm"! “W PM “W.” Ride“ 375 Chiota. the Creek; or, The Three Thundcholia.
I: ‘50 L...” Had “no; 0" Th" Children of “1° Chm' 881 Bandora Blll: or. Frio Frank to the Front.

“ And you have heard of my dream?"

Hazel looked at hex. quietly as he put this 154 The Sword Hunter-a; or, The Land ofiho Elephant Eldon. 39. Ron” .-d the M.‘ or, Th. Eden-M m.

159 The Lost Captain; or, Skipper anez Coﬂin's Crnlso to tho ‘04 Little Inn.“ on he“ Pew. 3“ hp“

I} qq?8tion;, . Open Pnlnr Sen.
 v '. Yes, She answered: frankly, but Wlth 8 too The Boy Bedouin-g or, The aroma oftho Plninod Lona. 4“ n“ 9“" M. ”°'“'"' V w
;. smnle- , 214 weir”... m. nun... .nh. inn... 4" “e “m Tm'em °*' 0” FM!" “Mm.- /
:3 “ And how It brought us here across the des‘ .49 “Ho Romer the Animal Kinr or Tho Ronnd tho World m Blur Bu" 0" n. Lynx or m. Loo“ A r
* art and through the dangers.” ‘wmierer. ’ ' ' 455 Little Lone Star; or, The Bollo oltho Cith
. I “  dream! It saved us all,” She whiso .65 The Tiger Tar-er; or, Tho League oftho Jua‘lo. ,
\fi  SOftly. . ” 881 Black Nick, the Domon Rider. BY EDWARD WILLETT.
v ' I
5‘ u  you know I stlu  .95 California Joe I WII' Tl’IlL 187 m Scott, ".0 Smmw.‘ Boy. i
5‘ f‘ That—ab, I am bold. I am weak, I am BY BRACEBRIDGE llEIlYNG. m 5"‘:‘:}°kh‘; ‘1‘; 3°" CZ'MP’“ “‘h‘ “'“m ‘4 '
’ meked- In“) your hour 0f Tejm'Cing I thrust 89 Inland Jinn or The Potofth r ‘l “r i M, m mm! “mm”... own“ ‘ :3
my dream.” 91 The ohm-iii .‘r the Club; hr gigs": Athlolol. :3: $333.13??? iiihx'i.g:'.:::ii‘i:, Tm V“
_ n . . .
“ égggggﬁglilhegsgg Yet, what? 101 Jack llorkowoy in New York. on The Roving Sport; or, The Pride ofChnchalnoh M e l
' “ No more I know what Perhaps since the 882 Nezno, the Detective; or, Kit Kenyon‘o Vol-dons. j.
s v ° BY ROGER STABBUCK. 840 Clip, the Contortionlat; or, The Mon-n. with»... ’

night I saw you, for the ﬁrst time at the spring
in the desert, I have felt—n 25 The Boy Captain: or, Tho Pirate‘s Daughter.

3 V
l it What?” 114 The Black Schooner; or. Jib Junk, the Old Tor. BY ’0 Pl}:ch , 7»
g] The uestion of Hart Hue] was coolly cruel. 259 The Golden Harpoon: or, Loni. Among tho Flooo. 397 no]. 0' the Bowery; or, Tho Prim of lolhorry 8M '
‘v She loo ed up into his face and smiled. 848 Fire-Heels; or, Old Skini‘llui, tho Death-Shadow. 415 The vmbond “decay” or, 30",, any. h '
ﬂ ‘ “ Hark! father comes; the murmur of their “4 m! "0"- Ike. the III“ Tramp; or, Tho Odd run. 452 lloup-r Bob. the Street-Boy Detective. ' .
1. voices has E E” l, and he would can us to them. 861 The Phantom Light-house. 460 The Lawyer’s Shadow; or, Lake’- Logoq. 
“ ht us 0!” 370 Breaker Ben, the Reef-Runner. 472 Jan-my Joe, the Young Horn-King. .
-, Hazel drew a step nearer and held out his - ‘94 9""! 3"", ‘5' “W! “"7"” 9mm"- ‘- “V
 . d. BY “'ILLIAM R. EYSTER. 
ngill you take may handg” he;1 said. 1 l 190 Dandy nnrke; or. The rim. of High Plno. BY GE‘IRGE WALM BBGWII- .
‘ orence ropped ers en er, rown itt ehand 210 Faro Frank; or, Dandy Duke'u Go-Down Pam. 7‘
3 into the outstretched palm. With a courtly 3: 22:33:;1‘2rh'i'h‘e2m. Du n t. I)";
i . . . , CXID O I
, grace Hazel raised it to his lips. BY COLONEL BELLE SARA. 99 The Ti¢er erTnoe; or. n-miy Rock’s Angol ~.
3 The one woman I’ he slowly repeated. 108 TI. L f . u , - ~1
._ ‘ u The one man ,, She responded Then she e Ion o the Sea; 0', The \ nllod Lady. 5 The Mad Miner: or, Dandy Roch 0 Doom. 
l ‘ hastily Snatched h’er hand aw And ﬂ t 186 Cool Desmond: or. The Gambler's Big Guns. 181 The Golden "and; or, Dandy Rock to the Room. ,‘
‘ I I, ward-the motm ay ew 0' 164 Dandy Rock's Pledge; or. Hunted to Booth. j '
.3 ’ With that pledge we leave them for Hart BY “Elm "- D- PERRY. U. S. N. "8 Du"? WM” “"1” "’7'" "‘“N “‘4‘”..- . 
Hazel had at last found the womiin of his "a The 3” R‘m'w‘“ “" T’" ""“n‘” "m" 3‘7- v
’ thought, the ideal of his heart. 18° The s" T““"‘ °" " V" we” KW" 1“ J. c' cownnwx'
‘ He had left his old Tennessee homestead a 19’ GIN-1n Kit; or, The My“er of Mont-“k Point. “0 Silver-Mink “‘0 M“ of Mystery- f '
' skeptic about a Womuis love, and in the wilder_ 869 Elia-tn, the Gold King; or, For Sore- Yoarl Dead. {'1
negs be h found one that he idolized. BY HARRY HAZARD. 420 {:5}. Deleoth'e'n Apprentice: or, A Boy Withoﬂ I ' e
The str 6 stories that he had heard, of Hugh sss Arkansaw ck; or The scour ' ' 
, . _ , . A geloeMlncu 4240". t J h ,Red-H i'r. tA to . r
Davis the merican soldier, Isbel Varona the 829 Red-Skin om; or, The Demon’s Trail. 439 Santlv-SatnrtheZtreet Sela. m" ' a“
r. - Mexican beauty and heiress,_of Roscaroand of m The Mountain Devil; or, Yellow Jack, the Outlaw. 432 mm; nu... the Daily nud. -’
:5 Kent/0n»  Of a gener§t1°n before ms own) 490 Broadway Billy the Booiblack Bravo.
.. 1, ﬂitted strangely through his mind. BY COL. A. F. "0LT. ° ' a
1’ ‘ Then came the thought of the present genera- 399 muk B ' ' '
 . , ’ _ uckaki ,Th M It d M {De tli . '
r, -. non, of Florence. Davis, even more beautiful ‘19 Kenneth, the Kn:;;:ﬂg' e M e no s Canyon MISCELLAL EOCS AUTHGRS.

, 2‘ than had been her mot er, of himself, and how 435 “we mum“ m m“ a, u w d 4 The Wild nor-e Hunters. By Capt n.

. " _ he had won the right to claim her as his own, ' ’8 0° " F"""'“" WWW"-

, and he was harpy. . BY J. w. 0830):. j: gammfﬁrﬂ B:'°'BM;Q‘“':"‘°'- 7‘
i ﬁx. Around the    all    409 The RIVI‘ Giant. ofNowh‘ra. l4 Alu‘dd‘rr . Trr‘;,.' )1 an ‘ ‘m‘ '

, , 'Hugh DEV”: With his Wife bf his Side and a 498 Oactus Burr, tho him from llhrd Luck I” 0" '9 “dam my -
,1 . happy smile upon her face. Whi e the borderman ' 1: 2°:r'315'2m' “Elgmm” . 1
' also wore a look of by Charlie the young son BY yum“; " ‘ ° ' °"' ' "“ V°~"‘"‘" '

i 9 1 3 RICK DEWEY. c '
Fliorelilce and H8? “91' and they talked over an Cilnarron Jack the King Pin «mm. shin. ” 11215-5“ sun." 0" Th. 80’ Rom” an.” 

t e a piness 0 two generations, while the ’ ' ' ’ . "

rrot ooked on and Death, Head, and Thigh- “8 Tu'enund' a" M" mum“ 88 “CW-'53??? SIFWEgIM 0" n. M "m. d h -

nes kept watch outside. BY JACK FARRAGUT. 86 {highlioy Clown; or, The Quest! oftho Are-h. By Frank u

“I guess I Won’t turn the old Tennessee home-

stead mm a Bachelor's Paradise, but we can an 815 Ned, the Cabin Boy. 88 Ned “'ylde, the Boy Scout. By Tens Jsch. I A ‘v
. a go there and make it our home, and we will “0 T“ 8“ “mm” ""“‘° WSW“ 5‘ “5'? “°’ Rm” 7‘" """‘"““" Cm" 3' m” H
. , ,. rons. .
T gkfsgﬁgggﬁgzefamt and the waves ""11 BY MAJOR m:an B. sTonnhnn, up...“ 95 {inﬁniv’llkﬂnvelnz hem Froobooten uh. um"; U .-
, . ~ I y I_eui.- To . no line. . . 
I 2the next day Hugh Davis and Hart Hazel 3°“ “Mun” 37"“ d" T'” “"30” PM? 98 Robin ﬂood, the Outlowod Earl; inﬁrm/err, In orm‘ . '
'. buried the dead, and Pierre mm found a 646 Rapier Raphael: or, The Sword-men onocotoeoo. “0011- By Mf-Glldenleen- ‘ " j
5. ave near the home of those whom his _ 891 Kid-Glove Kit, the Dandy oi the Rockies. 105 Old Rube, the Humor; or, Tho Crow Captive. B Copan H 7‘
« 8" page“ 898 Kid-Glove Kit and Ford; or,'l'ho Gold m... “mm” "°'"'“- y ‘

tion had driven to such a. home in thehwi - . ’
lder 40° giloh M“ Mani“.an or. The mph" 0‘ can“ 11. The Mad ﬂoater: or, 'l'hoCuveofDenib. By hmhr I,
II C o

 
\lh , ” ‘,»,.  "
v ,r 4 .

ness. :1 ,
Q As soon as possible the (lilttle partylleft the 1“ Eigggne Ten" 0"“. You" W" n’ M .
cabin in Devil’s Canyon, an a month star the BY uAnnY ST GEORGE. us The Tool Privateer; or Tho Pluto’s sm-
. . 0 i (hold.
2 good people in the neighborhood of Hart Hazel‘s 8° R ﬂ Rd h R k M h a“ "‘"Y 0"“ "l" n, 1-. r
_ one were amazed to ﬁnd that the wander- “ l‘ p M w " ' "'- 148 Sharp Sam; ".11). Advontnroo ofaFHondl. DOV. By J.‘ 1 w
44 Running Rube; or, Tho Nighthawks of Kontnoh‘. Alex-odor rmeh. ' ,. ,.
 . ing heir had returned, and not alone. for he 5, o” m k l, o, P d m . ' "1 "uk l, I /
brought his wife and her kindred with him' but c ° N v In y IISCnlp. I r men I. Tr- w: on'l'be Gm- B-nscronhova- .
he k6 t t h fi 108 Daring Davy: or, The Trail of tho Bordor Woli. ow'wm' y “n”! memn'
h 3 we '5 .° 3‘30 Of how 119 had ound ioo Hickory llarry; or,'1‘lio Tmppor-Brlgndo'l B" '“ £53" F°"'"""v “" N" “'1' 3'7- 3’ “W'- -' ‘
or t rough Trailing A ream. 11o Thunderbolt Torn; or, the Wolf-Hard". "L ’ "
( ml END. .6. 18K;lil::.nk:.ctlbe 43:13:; or, Davy Crochu'o Crook“ Trail. 5
 nr JAMES L. BOWEN on Red Claw. the charm Trim or,!'ho Idloﬂho out.  -
5i  i H I f o o 107 ﬁne-Eyed Bill; or, Tho Abandoned Fomt Homo. '17 I]? cum.” C‘mmmk' / f
f . m ‘ . '
g  e s a   no Tho Black Steed oftho Prairies. AStoryol Tons. “ﬁn. Anne-12%;: 1"", m M M'm“ 3’ u" -
1,? ‘-. BY CRARLt—s’; A BY 0. DUNNING CLARK. "8 {:Sifili‘ryhi'lzfmf: °" A Mum“ '" um“ "m"
. x A. . A. .
5. "It. Bunker. iho Tulip". 1" CID.“- Plnll 0": Th. 303’ 3P! of tho Mountains. “0 Red R“"- 1'“ R"“’ 30V”! "i 1“ WI 30- 
Whi B x lo. A T-lo at tho N uh m “0 Yuk” Rblolu or. The F». of tho mth mm“ B’ N“ Bum"
, 5' Th ‘° " " ° "I‘- M; Bani-ore Ben, the Bootblock Dotocuvo. n, A. r. lens. ,3
‘3 BY JOHN J. nARsnALL. BY “0"” °' "m?" "4 imam“ 7°" °" 3'“ ' Mb" "‘“" 3’ °'°"' 3" ”"
 . 485 on Tliar Owney tho Unknown. are c m i J i m T '
40 Roving Ben. A SW3 oh Young Amorlcon. ' a on a oe o rot rail. I, Colonol The--
i‘ 97 Tho Outlaw Brothers; or, Tho Coptlvo enlion m 6" Th". owner. Plem 418  “McMahon. ti o (‘lilcmnbor Dy! 3. Winthrop}
o ‘ I o . a. .y
’. BY HAJOR E L. ST. VBAIN. 1.0 B: FRANK DUMONT. :40?“  s“ the (Biol: 1:03.:‘4. 3, ‘maou 
The Brando "and; or, The Mu ovas " 5' “ " . “‘0'- ' ~ - -- i
. so: Sancho Pedro, the Boy Bandit - “’V‘ m oeunnehe in k :
- ~ . . 801 Leadvillo Nick. the Boy Spon-  g‘l'lg‘gze‘y 03:",[1'3‘2‘ “1’”,- D. Hem J. Thorn-ac "‘1 m‘ M "Mm ” y
'1. mm Rube, tho Vigilanto Prince. 1?! EM. D :v 11" R_ T; o 7 Bonelmuky h 48. gﬁgwma-Q“ swn' a... n. m‘b '. ‘u  ‘ ‘ _
' h 88. Brimstone Bob, and Ill-lightning Ham Quartotto. I“ E “E u” in; v“ "'l M.“ Y m- - Patton. > ,
' . m Toninan Toni. tho Arisono Boy of" Sand." ' "l "v 0 “hum of the R10 Gmndo. A Now Ioono Eva, had". I
. » .5. Durante Dave, the Yuan ifhnnum-n Wmtlor. BY OApT ALFRED n TAYLoR‘ U s A. m [Inga-o “ h "f ,
' - . . - um lo I" an m“; ,‘_ V
' 371 Mlle Ohria, tho Young Hard-shell Doloctlvo. ' ﬂ . a 1‘ ~-
hfr‘ , I . W N t I ~
‘ g;  A , If ‘ .80 Avalanche Alf. tho Foothills Guido. \ ‘.1  km" “N no, annwhuku' 0" n. M w”, I" :ﬂ. ' \'
I V.“ .90 Jug-al- Joe, of tho Mount in Moll-Lilo. [’4 l” '
  l‘ 1 ~ BIMBIIIbMtthmcmblorm _ I ‘ , .6 "ml- 
r i ‘ r ' i , > if.- l n

    
. 177 Nobhi‘Nlok oI’

1.... . .. .w- —r’s ,1..- av“... ...-—.-

a-.. v-u'a‘ r- a «an .

o w.‘ I’ri in . ~-. .vvn» -..‘.-r.», .u... u ..s,

m... -__.. w

. .;4n:..' ..

BEADLE’S*HALF-DIME*LIBRARY.

Published Every Tuesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Five Cents. N0 Double Numbers.

 
BY ED‘VARD L. “WHEELER.

1 Deadwood Dick, the Prince of the Road.
20 Double Dagger-a; or, Deadwood Dick's Deﬂnnne.
86 Cloven "00?. the Iludalo Demon. I
29 Bulfan Belt; or. Duallwmnl Dick in Disguise.
82 Bob Woolf; or, The Girl Dead-Shot.
85 “'ild Ivan, the Boy (,‘lnudo Dural.
89 Deathdl‘uoe, Detective; or, Life in New York.
4” Phantom Miner: 0r, Deadwood Dick’a bouama.
45 old Avalanche: or. Wild Edna, the Girl llrlgaml.
49 Omaha 011: or, lleadwnod Dir-k in Danger.
58 Illn Bludnoe. sin, the. llny Phenix.
57 Deadwmtd Dick’s- l‘la‘lon; or, The Pards oi Flood Bar.
Cl Buokhorn Bill; or. The lied liiile Team.
'09 Gold Riﬂe, the Sharpuhonter; or. The May Detective.
78 Deadwood Dlt'k on Deck: Hr. Calamity Jane,the Heroine.
77 Corduro Charlie: nr, Ileadwuud llix'k‘s Lut Act.
80 Iloaobmlyllob or, Nugget Ned, the Knight.
l “4 ldyl, the Girl 1 Inert or, Rosebud Rob on Hand.
_ 88 l'ilcto raYh l’hil; ur, Ruaebud Rnh'a Reappearnnce.
9” (lane a (7 not; or, (llrl Allll‘llllllﬂ iu Sitting: Hull's Camp.
96 Watch-Eye; or. Aruba and Angela ofa Great City.
100 Deadwood Dink In Leadvllle.
104 Deadwood Dick'u Dot Inc: or, The Double Cross Sign.
109 Deadwood Diek all Detective.
113 Jack Hoyle the. Young Sta-culatnr.
117 ‘dll'wi‘lil‘ed Diok, the Spwrt Detective.
191 (‘Innmnon Chin, the (Lrl Sport.
125 Bonanza Bill. Miner.
199 Deadwood Dick‘u Double: or, The Ghost 0! Gorgon‘a

Gulch.
‘95 Bull Bob the King of Boothiacks.
19” lll-vnde lllll; or, lleadwmd Disk's Home Base.
141 Rnlid Plain lhe lioy lira-datum.
146 Captain Ferret, the New York Detortlvo; or, Boss Bob’.

Boas Jul).
149 A Game of Goldg or. Deadwood Dick's Ritz Strike.
“56 Dradwood Dick oi’ Deadwood; or, The Picked Party.
161 New York Nell the Buy-Girl Deter-ﬁve.
ﬁcvadaz or. The Sierras Scamps.
181 \Vild rank. the Hui-lulth Bravu.
195 Deadwood chk’a Dream; or. The Rink of the Road.
801 The Black llllla Jezebel; or. Deadwood Dick‘s Ward.
906 Deadwood Dick‘s Doom; or, Calamity Juno's Last Ad-
venture.
9 Fritz, the Bound-Boy Detective.
’1. lF'rItz to the Front: or, The V’entrilaquist Hunter.
"17 Captain Crack-Shot, the Girl Fri and.
3.1 Hagar-Coated Ram: or, The BIM Gown.
inocler, the li--v Sharp; or, The Arab Detoctlra.
‘ “' ““:‘ Die ’. A Roruam-e of Ronghs and Tougln.

. .- ..
‘0 Apollo Bill, the Trail Tornado.

 
0 4D clone Kit, the Young Gladiator.
.44 w: I- 8am, thu. Frontier Ferret.
c. . .. Saliva Secret; or The Bloody Foot rinu,
98 w. ... Sam'a Par-d; or, The Angel oi Big in...
958 crr- Sam’s Seven; or, Tllu Std-ion Bride.
to: Deadwood Dick’s Divide or, That Spirit of Swamp uh.

I08 Deadwood Dick’s Death ‘rail.
278 unsho Joe the Hay Pairul; or, The Rival Heirs.
' Dollch Doll. the Detective Queen.
’81 llenver Doll’a Victory.
8N5 Denver Doll's Decoy; or. thtls Bill’s Bonanza.
3’1 ' ‘urk. the Boy Ferret.
or. Tho Road Quun.
A No. 1, the Dashing oll-Taksr.
:09 'lea Jane, ths Girl Miner; or. ths lton-Nsrud Sport.
0 Deadwood Dick's Big Deal; or, The Gold Brick of

Oregon.
391 Deadwood Dlok’a Dozen: or, The Fakir ofPhsatcm Flats.
Kelley llloke & COIIIFIIIK; the Sleuths of Philadelphia.
Jttle hulek-B ot; or,‘ he ad Face of Da‘garlvlllo.
Kangaroo Kit; or. The Mysterious Nhsar.
.Kan aroo Kit's Racket.
Malignan- Mike, the Bowery Blood.
Deadwood Diek’a Duo-ts; or, Rainy Days In tho Dig-

“! 3313...“ Dick Sentenced; or. Ths Tsrrlblu Vendetta.
858 Pint-Clara Fred, \hn Gent lrnm Gopher.
86. Deadwood Dick’s Claim: or, The Fairy Fm o! Faro

Flats.
“8 Yroka JII. the Gold-Gatherer; or, The Lottary or

i o.

7. Yroka Jin’a Prise.

78 Kabob Ned t or, The Secret of Slab City.

Coal KI the King of Kids; or. A Villaln’s Von calico.
Yreka J I’D Joker; or, The Rivals of Rod on. I
89 Bicycle Ben; or. The Lion n! Lightning Lode.

II. of Yaha Dan.

the Night-Wswh Detoctirg.

 
D a Dick In Dead Cit .
0 1'). ' Dick’s Diamonds {an The Mystery of Jo...
' m .
413 I  lla‘ Harry. the Base Ball Damtivo

Deadwood Dick in New York; or. “ A Cut. Can."
Sal- Slab-Idea. ths Beggar-Boy Detectlvs.
0 Deadw Diok'a Dust: or, The Chained Hand.
[- 3 and Pal, Private Dstoctivss.
8 Santa Fe Sal, ths Slasher.
w ck, Jr.
e ol-l’lato Nod; or, Deadwood Dick Jr's Doha“.
all-dilower 8a., oi Shasta; or, Deadwood Dish Jr’s l'ull
so .
“9 Sinai Faa. the Fanst; or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s Big Round-
4“ gig-Ho Fly. of Phcnlx; or. Deadwood Dick Jr. Rackst a
ll l0

m l

4 1 Boaernan Bill; or. Deadwood Dick Jr's Corral.

‘ C Iianboldt Harry, the Hurricane: or. Deadwood Dick Jr's
De

tat-tin. ‘
491 310“ Mystery: or, Deadwood Dick Jr. in Deadwood.

I ' ﬁgﬁealskla ﬁlm. the S arkier.

, 4.3:

Prince Platol, the in; of the West; or, Deadwood Dick
Jr’s Compact.
Ho.“ Oﬂato, JIM or, Deadwood Dick Jr’s inheritance.

Deadwood Dick’a Dig-[lanai or, Dr. Death-Grip's Sweep.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER. JR.

Yellow-tone Jack: W. Th. DIR"-
ohn tho Road-A at; or. o Outlsw’s Retreat.
Bi.ek J Dill; 07. Mustang Sam and His Pard.
or, The King of the Plains.
it; or, Ths Daughter of the Ranch.
the Boy Sport.

gilt
'1“: IL 0
a one
Paati’ar Paul: or, Dainty Lance to tho Rucuo.
The Black Gilli“ or. Dalntv Lane. in Jeopardy.
Doadl Pools or, ’ightin Fire with Fire.
lien; or, alnty Lana on ths War-Path.

Cale. the Caliban of Caleatlal City.

rranea Wolf; or. The Beautiful Dewy.
Black Rider; or The liona-Thlrvol’ ba‘uo.
Double Flat or, zl‘hs Strange Golds.
King of the nodal or Daniel Boone’s Last Trail.
Fox. the Border Boy Detective.

9
1 9
a 0

4‘
1‘1
1..
1:2 .
k. I: 3:, Patio; or. Dainty Lance Unmashs.
8 1 tel
910 I”
a;
‘49
‘

 
BY COLONEL l'ltENTlSH INGRAIIAM.

7 The Flying Yankee; or. The Ocean Outcaat.
17 Ralph no , the liuy Bncr'nnrer; or. The Fugitiva Yacht.
24 Diamond Dirk ' or, The Myatvry o! the, Yellowstone.
62 The Shadow HlIIp; or, The Rival lieutenants.
75 The Roy Dru-Hat; or. The Cruise 01' the Sea-“'0”.
109 Dick Dead-Eve. the lloy SillllL'Kler.
Ill The Sou-Devil ; or. The Midahipnmu'a Legacy.
116 The lluaaur Captain: or, The llenuit ul' lloll Gate.
197 thue Grit; or, ieasie, the Siock-Temler'l Daughter.
204 Gold l’llllllt': 0". The Kid-Glove Sport.
216 Ill-on Bill. the, Prime oi the Reina.
222 Grit. the Bravo Sport; «Ir, The Woman Trailer.
22” Grim-on 'nlc: hr, The (‘uwlmy'e Triumph.
337 Lone ﬁtar. the Cowboy Ca niain.
245 Merle the Middy ur,’ ho Freelance Hair.
250 The Nlldslhlpman . utlneer; or. Brandt, the Buccaneer.
264 'll lhe Floatan Feather; or, .\lcrlc Moute’u Treasure
a nun.
269 The Gold Ship; nr, Merle. the Cumlemned.
276 got-l}; Monte”; Cruise; or, The Chqu of " The Gold
A lip.
2S0 Merle Monto'a Fate: or, Pearl, the Pirate’s Bride.
9ﬁ4 'l he Hon Marauder: ur, Merh- Monte‘u Pledge.
237 lillly Blur-Eye“ the lloy Rover of the Rio Granule.
804 The Dead Hllot Dandy: or. llenltu, the Buy Bugler.
80H keno Kit; or, Dead 51...: Ilantiy'u mum.”
314  Myaterloua Marauder: or, The lloy Bugler's long
l’lll .
877 Donodel. the lloy Row-r; or, The Flagleaq Schooner.
if!” The llliilull l’llot: lrr. The Search {or Pirate Island.
BN7 “'urpntll “'ill, the, liuy l'hnntout.
 :‘Qii‘r'ulﬂllhe‘liny Lieutenant.
an or. I. N.‘ 'ollng Conn lraior or. The Fatal Les 0.
407 The Ilov Inn-urgent: unll‘he (.‘ulm‘n Vendetta. g“
412 The \\ Ild \ uvhiunsunx M. The War—(:louu’s Cruise.
429 Drum-an Daro. the ﬂu ‘ Refugee.
488 A (‘ubln Ilo "— Lin-ii; or, The Corsair.
487 The Hon Rn dor.
44] The Deena Fireﬂy; or, A \iiddy's Vengeance.
446 lltsphnzard Hurry; or. The Scapegraro “r the Sea.
450 “'Izard \Vlll or. ‘he Ill-y Ferret ofNew York.
454 “'Iznrd WI in Street Flt-outs.
462 The Born uldei or. The Sailor Boy Wanderer.
468 Neptune Ned, the Ho - Canister.
474 Floral or. Willard WI l'a Vagabond Pard.
433 Ferret. Aﬂoat; or Vl'lzurd 'Jl'lll’s Last Cw.
437 Nevada Ned. the Revolver Hunger.
496 Arizona Joe the Hay Paul of Texas Jack.
‘97 Blek Taylor, King M the (lowboya.
508 The Royal Middy : or, The Shark and the Sea Cat.

BY BUFFALO BILL (lion. Was. F. Cody).

Kanaas King; or, The Red Right "and.

' “he Phantom Spy x or, The Pilot of the Prairie.

)oadly-Eye, the inknown Scout.

H ‘Iorder Robin ﬂood; or The Prairie Rover.

158 i'aaey Frank of Colorado; or, The Trapper’s Trual.
it

 
BY CHARLES MORRIS.

118 Will Bot-on. the Boy Dchctm.

1” Phil “8rd , tho Bola Buy.

190 Picayune etc; or, Nicodemul, the Dog Dsiactivo.
190 Detective Dick: 0?, The Hero in Rags.

14. liandaome llarry, the Bouthlsck Detective.

147 Will Wildﬁre, tho Thoroughbred.

159 Black lie-a, Will Wildﬁre s Racer.

167 Mike Merry, llle Harm-r Police Boy.

ii! Will “'iidilre In the “'ooda.

65 BI“, B.‘ age. the Railroad Bog.

70 A Train urd; or. Will Wild rs Wins and Locus.
74 Bob Roe ottt or. Mysteries or New York.

79 Bob Iloeketti the Bank Runner.

188 The Illdden land‘ or, Will Vl'lldllre’s Raven”.
1R7 Fred Ilalyard. the Mo Boat Boy: or. Ths Smugglers.
139 Bob Rocket" or, Driven to the Wall.

19“ [ah-(lowed or, Bob Rochott'l Fight {or Life.

900 iark l'lau . the Tiger King.

813 Dashing Dave, the Dandy Doioctlro.

"0 Tom Tan-u- or The I! ack Sheep oi the Flock.

.95 Rain Chureoa Premium Darky.

.85 tlhadow ﬂan. tit: Messenger Boy.

84. ' “he Two “ Blooda'h, or Shenandoah Bill and His Ga“.
.5! Dick Dashawa t or, A Dakota Boy in Cities .

Bil! "he Young 8! that or, Rolllclrlng Mike’s liar. Trail.
Olly Jl.‘ ths tootlvl An rsntloe.

olly Jill: a Job; or. The can Datoetlvo.

'98 The Water-Bound; or. The nun; Theron hhrod.
805 l‘laahaway. of Dakota; or, A Western in the Cluster

thy.

"4 Ralph Ready, the Hotel Boy Daioctlvo.
841 Tony Thor-no, the Vagabond Douctlvs.

The Reporter-Detective; or, I'm! Flyor’s Blissard.
IO? W Ida-Awake Joel or, A Boy nitho Tlmas.

879 Lan- . the Leveler; or. The Bloods of the Boulsvard.
409 Firedy Jack, the River-Rat Dotartivs.

m The Loot F er; or. The Entrappod Cuhier.

4'8 Fred Fl er. t a Rdlloflrl’ Deter-live.

482 lavinclh 0 Lo an. the Pinkerton Ferret.

450 Bill Brick,t I Jolly Vagabond.

WI e-Awake Jerry, llﬂtoctive; or, Entombed Alive.
479 Detective Dod e; or, The Mystery of Frank Hearty.
48“ Wild Dirk Bar ct.

501 Boots, the Boy Fire-Ian : or, Too Sharp for ths Sharpsr.

ﬂﬂﬂﬂﬂ

 
BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

II The Two Detective-f or, The Fortunos ois Bow. Girl.
1. ﬁhewColt. the Crnw-KI ler; or,Tho Grout ﬁghting an at
r sst.
79 Sol (Huger, tho Giant’l‘rapper.
’88 Joe Back of Angela and His Boy P;rd.
447 New York Nat. A Tale ofTrlchs and raps in Gotham.
458 New En land Viol” or. TM Fortunol olal’mdllng.
464 Nlllblo Ick. the Circus Prince. I
49. Tool Tod, in. Arisona Sport.

BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.

6 Bill Biddoa. Truman
ll Both Juneau or o Captives of tho Fromlsr.
10 Nat Todd ‘ or, The Fat. or the Sioux Cspttu.
I! The Front or Angel.
98 T o oy Miners; or, The Enchanted ltland.
189 T o aated Hunter; or, The Strsn s Horseman.
954 The “air-Blood; or, The Panther u the Plains.
.71 The Huge Ila-ten or, The Steam Prairie Man.

4—

 
BY OLL CDOMES.

5 Vagabond Joe the Young Wandering Jaw.
18 The Dumb Spy.
2? Antelope Abe, the, Boy Guide.
81 keen-knife, llle l'l'im'e ul‘tlie l‘rairieo.

4| I1I|ﬂl0 dark, the Young Muainugrr.
51* ’I he Border King: "r. The Secret Foe.
7| Delaware Dlok. the Young Ron." Spy.
74 Ilttwka-t‘e Harry, the Yuuug Trapper Ranger.
88 Ilullo, the Boy Iiunccr.
184 Hun- Hﬁot Seth, 1hr lin)’ Iiiﬂmnnn,
148 Sl-ur-l‘ ave Nan], the Silent llllllltl’.
l4“ ﬁlli’i‘l’ “tar. the lio) Knight.
158 Eagle Kit. the liny iMuuu.

168 Little 'l‘oxna, the Young Mustnnger.

17% "Id Military, the llrl'lllll ’lra tin-r,

1’42 Little Hurricane. th-- lim’ (,apiain.

I’roa eel. I’oto t nr. 'l‘h» i’uuux Uullaw Hunter;
The 0; Hercule-x or, 'I he I‘rairie Tramps.
Tiger '1 out. the 'l rxna Terror.

Dnahln Dick; M. 'l rapper Tom’s ('astle.
Little ‘ ’lldllri', [he Y: nut; l’mirie Nuumd.

” 'l'ht‘ I'arnon Dc iot-Ih e: or, 'l he Little Ranger.
'l‘ho Ill-grilled Guide; or. “ii-l Raven, the Baum,
Dare-Devil Dan, the Ynulu: hairie Ranger.
.‘linknkln Mike, the lioy >llnl‘prll00lel’.

Little Foxﬁre, the Buy .‘py.

The Sky Demon : or. liaiuin-lt. the Ranger.
“'hIn-klntr Joe. in.- lm Rum-hem.
"(‘rl‘llli‘n: or, i)“ k. ilu- lin) Hunger.

417 “'ohi'mtt “one. the 'I‘miup lh-tmiiw.

Bah ' Smut. lln- i=«._\ Uinnl oi llw Yellowstone.
444 Little Book-kin. the Young Prairie Centaur.
457 “'Itun-di'oot Fruit ur. hid l‘olar Saul.

468 'l'umnrtu- ’I out. ilw ill): in: war liuy.

473 "id 'l'olll Rattler, the lit-ii liiver Epidemic.
482 Stonewall liob, lllc lioy 'l‘roian.

BY T. C. IIAIKBAUGII.

28 Nick 0’ the Night; or, 'l'h-v Boy Spy of '16.
87 The Hidden Lodge; or The Link Hunter.
47 Nightin ale hut m, The ‘l‘orest (‘a taint.
64 "and incl” or, 'he ()utinwu of tho rogon Trail.
89 'It I arefoot the Wood-Hawk.
94 . Iduigltt Jack} or, The Boy Trapper.
106 Did Frossty, the hide; ur, The White, Qum.
123 Kiowa Charley the “'hite Mustang".
189 Jud e l. nolt, Jr.i 0'. The linv Vixilank.
155 Girl Tr ‘ er. llll‘ Sport; or, The Girl Avenger.
169 Tornado out; or, njnn Jack From Red Cora.
18K Ned Temple. the Border Boy.
198 Arkanaaw ; or, The Quwn ol Fate's Remap.
207 Navajo Nit-k. the Boy Gold Hunter.
BIB Captain Bullet: nr, Little Tupknot's Crusade.
Nil l’luoky Phil; or. Rosa. tho Re I Jezobol.
841 Bill Bravo; or, TI e Roughs oi the Rockloa.
2515 Captain A ollv . the. Kine-Pin ni‘ Bowie.
867 The Bucks In Detective.
’79 "Id \Vluohlt or, The iiuckakin Desperado".
994 Dynamite Dan: or. The Bowie Blade of Cnchetopa.
80. T e liountain Duet-live; or, The Trigger Bar Baily.
816 Did Erlipae, Trump Card ul’ Arizona.
830 The Ten Paras; ur. The Town at Take-Noun.
“9 "ll Bell-on; or. The Queen 0! the Lamo.
845 PItIleu Matt; 0', Rod Thunderboit’s Socrst.
35H (hml Hunt and Pat-4; o' The Terrible Six.
3.0 Velvet Foot. the Indian Detective.
8M! Captain Cutlaaat or, lhe ll ccauur‘s Girl For.
990 "on it Rob or,Tho i‘win Champions of Blue Blalu.
4“. The liken .aaao or, The Rose of Ranch Robin.
418 Felix Fox, the Boy Kitten
426 Texas Trurst in min Rattler.
480 Phil Flaa t 0 New York Fox.
445 The City let-that or, Red Rolfs’s Pigeon.
46] on. A 5 ant Flﬂy; or, The Last Man of Keno Bar. a
470 The oy liltadow; or. Felix Fox's Hunt.
477 The Excel-im- Sports or. The Washington Spotter. O
499 single 5i lit, the One-Eyed Sport.
50. Branded en, the Night Ferret.

IY PlllLlP 8. WARNE.

07 Patent-Leather Joe: or. Old Rsttlunaks. the Char-u.
175 {Ll-plain Ariaona: or, Patent-Leather Joe's Big Guru.
19; captain Maak; or, Patent-Leather Jm’a Dohat.

.10 I)o_;pard. the Daellat; or, Tho Mountain Vampires.
h oil“. Boy; or, The Dwari’s Revenge.

1. lo ornadox or. The cutouts of tho Glsu.

Little dingo; or, the Queer l’ard.

Little Oil-my or, Caught in His Own Trap. ’

Little ﬂhoo- lyﬁ or, A Race (or a Ranch.

iLIttle Leather- reoehea; or. Old Jumho’s Cursa.

Little Ah ﬂint or, The Cum 0! Blood.

Colorado Rate. A Tale of the Mines.

'I‘hroe Jolly Parda.

 
LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

604 Five Points Phil. tho Psvsrmut Prince; or, Caught In tho
Spider’s Web. By Jo Pierce.

505 gowoll'a Pard‘; or, The Ono-Armed Giant. By Maj. H. 3.
II o

ioddard, Ix-

500 ﬂotilﬂght Ralph, the Prince of the Road. By J. C. Cosh
c .

507 The Ills-ted lid-hlplaaa. By Col. Pruntiaa lamina.
508 Deadwood Dick’s Deliverance. By I. L. Whaler.
509 Jack Jagger; the Butcher Boy Detoctivo. By Jo my...
510 Cool Colorado, the Half-Breed Detective. By A. W. Alisa.
511 The Outlaw-ed Middy. By Col. Pnntlas lugnhsm.

51. Dodger Dick, the Wharf'Spy Detective. By T. C. W.
518 The De-oa Doctor. By Goo. C. Janka.

514 Broadway Billy’s Boodle. By J. C. Corral-lat.

615 Deadwood Dick’a Prote- ee; or, Baby Bess, the Girl Gold

lner. By E. L. Wheeler. eady Juno 1.
516 Tartar or, Five Points Phil's Hat-uric. By Jo
Pierre. Re um: ii.

511 A, Cold Deal; or, n. Jolly Pads “Down.” By P. 3.
“ re. Ready June 9].

518 (éool Colorado in New York. By Albert W. Aiken.

randy June 98. 
519 Captain Mystery ; or, Fire in One. By William G. Putin.
Ready July 5.
A New lune Every Tuesday.
The Ilali‘aDIme Library is for sale by all nowsdealors, in 1

coats per copy, or uni by mail on rocolpt of six cents each.
BEADLE AND ADAMS Puhllahe .
, 93 Willlaus s’tmt, New at. 

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BEADLE’SrDIMEieIlBRARY. '

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

BY WILLIAM R. EYS'I‘ER.

145 Pistol Pards; or. The Silent Sport from Cinnabar.
160 Soft Hand, Sharp; or, The Man with the Sand.
182 Hands Up; or, The Knights of the Canyon.

192 The Lightning Sport.

814 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch.
8‘29 Captain Cutsleeve; or, The Little Sport.

$8 Magic Mike. the Man of Frills.

NO A Sport in Spectacles; or, The Bad Time at
Bunco.

833 Derringer Dick, the Man with the Drop.
844 Double Shot Dave of the Left Hand.

856 Thr -e Handsome Sports; or, The Double Com-
bination.

875 Royal George, the Three in One.

896 The Piper Detective.

402 Snapshot Sam; or. The Angels‘ Flat Racket.
‘29 Hair Trigger Tom 01 Red Bend.

BY CAPTAIN MAYNE BE“).
8 The Headless Horseman; A Strange Story of
Texas.
12 The Death-Shot; or, Tracked to Death.
lid The Scalp Hunters. A Romance of the Plains.
66 The Specter Barque. A Tale of the Paciﬁc.
74 Tiieagaptain of the Riﬂes; or, The Queen of the
es.

am The Riﬂe Rangers; or, Adventures in Mexico.

KB Tiiie White Chief. A Romance of Northern Mex-
co,

113 The War Trail; or, The Hunt of the Wild Horse.

218 The Wild Huntress; or, The Squatter‘s Veno
geance.

298 The Maroon. A Tale of Voodoo and Obeah.
284 The Hunter‘s Feast.
267 The White Squaw.

BY can. mans). wnrr'raxnt.

89 The Russian Spy; or, The Starry Cross Brothers.
66 The Red Rajah; or, The Scourge of the Indies.
69 The Irish Captain. A Tale of Fontenoy.
96 Double Death; or, The Spy of Wyoming.
98 The Rock Rider; or, The Spirit of the Sierra.
1% The Duke of Diamonds.
115 The Severed Head; or, The Secret of Castle
Coucy.
132 Nemo, King of the Tramps.
169 Red Rudiger, the Archer.
174 The Phantom Knights.
187 The Death's Head Cuirasaiara
193 The Man in Red.
[)6 One Eye, the Cannoncer.
811 Colonel Plunger; or, The Unknown Sport.
915 Parson Jim, King of the Cowboys.
no The Mad Hussein; or, The 0‘s and the Mac‘s.
:30 The Flvinz Dutchman of 180).
we The Fog Devil; or, The Skipper of the Flash.
947 Alligator Ike; or, The Secret of the Everglade.
$8 A Yankee Cossack; or,The Queen of the Nihilists.
$5 Old Double-Sword; or, Pilots and Pirates.
:73 Seth Slocum, Railroad Surveyor.
1:? The Saucy Jane, Privateer.
84 The Three Frigates; or, Old Ironsides‘ Revenge.
no The Lost Corvette; or, Blakeley‘s Last Cruise,
ﬁ Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter.
N3 Tap-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw.
610 The Marshal oi Satanstown; or. The attic-
Lifters' League.
8% The Whitest Man in the Mines.
678 John Armstrong. Mechanic. .“
IN Old Pop Hicks. Showman.
‘12 Larry Locke, the Man of Iron.

BY NEWTON M. ovum-s.

The Texan Sp ' or. The Prairie an“.
3 Giant Jake, all; Patrol 0: the Mountain.

as .110me KNOX-“01¢ Hawk.”

as Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective.
Ci Hawk Heron a Deputy.

BY PBBCY B. ST. J OIIN.

I an t E tor. '
. Hamming at. The Queen of the Woods,

 
BY CAPTAIN MARK WILTON.

176 Lady Jaguar. the Robber Queen.

194 Don Sombrero. the California Road Gent.
202 Cactus Jack, the Giant Guide.

219 The Scorpion Brothers; or. Mad Tom‘s Mission.
223 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain.

227 Buckshot Ben, the Man-Hunter of Idaho.
237 Long-Haired Max; or, The Black League.
245 Barranca Bill, the Revolver Champion.

258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo.

263 Iron-Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destroyer.
266 Leopard Luke, the King of Horse-Thieves.
911 Stoneﬂst, of Big Nugget Bend.

976 Team: Chick. the Southwest Detective.

N Lightning Bolt, the Canyon Terror.

291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck.

306 Silver-Plated Sol, the Montana Rover.

811 Heavy Hand: or, The Marked Men.

323 Hotspur Hugh; or, The Banded Brothers.

BY 81M 8. HALL—“ Buckskin Sam.”

8 Kit Carson, J r., the Crack Shot.
90 Wild Will. the Mad Ranchero.
178 Dark Dashwood, the Desperate.
186 The Black Bravo; or, The Tonkaway's Triumph.

191 Tlip Terrible Tonkaway; or, Old Rocky and his
or

195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, The Magnolias
Maid.

199 Diamond Dick. the Dandy from Denver.

204 Big Foot Wallace, the King of the Lariat.

212 The Brazos Tigers; or. The Minute Men.

217 The Serpent of El Paso; or. Frontier Frank.
221 Desperate Duke, the Guadaloupe “ Galoot.‘

25 Rocky Mountain Al; or, The Wait of the Range.
839 The Terrible Trio; or. The Angel of the Army.
244 Merciless Mart, the Man Tiger of Missouri.

250 The Rough Riders: or, Sharp Eye the Scourge.
256 Double Dan the Dastard; or, The Pirates.

$4 The Crooked Three.

289 The Bayou Bravo; or, The Terrible Trail.

273 Mountain Mose. the Gorge Outlaw.

m The Merciless Marauders; or. Carl’s Revenge.
287 Dandy Dave and his Horse, White Stocking.

896 St§mpede Steve; or, The Doom 0! the Double
ace.

am Bowlder Bill; or, The Man from Taos.

M Raybold, the Battling Ranger.

m The Crimson Coyotes; or Nita the Nemesis.
828 King Kent; or. The Bandits of the Bason.
849 Blanca Bill. the Mustang Monarch.

868 The Prince of Pan Out.

871 Gold Buttons; or, The Up Range Pards.

BY DR. J. n. ROBINSON.

18 Pathaway; or, Nick Whiﬂ‘ies, the old Nor‘wcst
Trapper.

17 Nightshade; or, The Robber Prince.

a Whitelaw; or, Nettie of the Lake Shore.

6? Hirl, the Hunchback; Or, The Santos Sword-
maker.

68 Silver Knife; or. The Rocky Mountain Bangor.

70 Hydrabad. the Strangler.

76 “W22. of the Red Cross; or. The Granada

166 Ben Brion; or. Redpath, the Avenger.

BY FRANCIS JOHNSON.

B The Gold Guide; or, Steel Arm, Regulator.
B The Death Track; or, The Mountain Outlaws,
123 Alapaha the Squaw; or, The Border Renegades.

m Assowaunn the Avenger; or, The Doom ot the
Destroyer.

186 The Bush Ranger; or, The Halt-Breed Rajah.
186 The Outlaw Hunter; or, The Bush Ranger.
188 The Border Bandit; or. The Horse Thief‘s Trail.

BY GEORGE ST. GEORGE. i

M Duncan. the Sea Diver.
417 Tucson Tom; or, The Fire Trailers.

BY C. DUNNING CLARK.

161 The ’a FOOL
18! Gilbert t 0 Guide.

 
:

BY (30].. THOMAS H. MONSTEBY.

82 Iron Wrist, the Swordmaster. ‘
126 The Demon Duelist; or, The League of Steel.
143 The Czar's Spy; or, The Nihilist League.

150 El Rubio Bravo. King of the Swordsman.

157 Mourad, the Mameluke: or, The Three Sword
masters.

169 Corporal Cannon. the Man of Forty Duels.

236 Champion Sam; or,The Monarchs of the Show
262 Fighting Tom, the Terror of the Tcuzhs.

832 Spring-Heel Jack; or, The Masked Mystery.

BY ISAAC HAWKS, lax-Detective.

232 Orson Oxx; or, The River Mystery.
240 A Cool Head; or, Orson On: in Peril.

BY PROF. J. H. INGBAHAM.

113 The Sea Slipper; or, The Freebooters.

118 The Burglar Captain; or. The Fallen Star.
314 Laﬁtte; or, The Pirate of the Gulf.

816 Laﬁtte‘s Lieutenant; or. Child of the Sea.

BY GUSTAV]! AIMABB.

£5 The Tiger Slayer; or, Eagle Heart to the Rosana.

19 Red Cedar, the Prairie Outlaw.

20 The Bandit at Bay; or, The Prairie Pirates.

21 The Tragper‘s Daughter; or, The Outlaw’s Fats.

24 Prairie Flower.

62 Loyal Heart; or. .116 ‘irappers of Arkansas.
149 The Border Riﬂes. A Tale of the Texan War.
151 The Freebooters. A Story of the Texan War.
158 The White Scalper.

MISCELLANEOUS.
6 Wildcat Bob. the Boss Bruiser. By EdwardL
Wheeler.
9 Handy Andy. By Samuel Lover.
10 Vid , the French Police 8 . Written
111933.11. w b,

11 Midshipman Easy. By Captain Maryatt.
82 B’hoys of Yale; or, The Scrapes of Collegian;

60 Wide Awake, the Robber King. By Frank Du-
mont.

68 The Fighting Trapper. By Captain J. l". 0.
Adams.

76 The Queen's Musketeers. By George Albany.
78 The Mysterious Spy. By Arthur M. Grains“.

102 The Masked Band' or The Man withouts ans.
By George L. Aihen: x

110 The Silent Riﬂeman. By E. W. Herbert.

125 The Blacksmith Outlaw or Merrie Inghla.
By Harrison Ainsworth: '

138 Rody the Rover. By William'Carleton.

140 The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Walker.

144 Th1; Hunchback of Notre Dame. By \Vhl
“8‘0-

146 The Doctor Detective. By George Lemuel.

1661 Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief.

158 The Doomed Dozen. By Dr. Frank Powell.

166 Owlet, the Robber Prince. By Septimus I
Urban.

m Conrad, the Convict. By Prof. Gildelslcave. ’
190 The Three Guardsmen. By Alexander Dumas.

as: Black Sam, the Prairie Th

Jo Yards- underbolt.  Cal \ H
m The Sum r Cutter; Th

Cliff. 13?}. n. Conroy?“ ° cum h “I
61! Kinkfoot the Mo tai .

m Hedging, un 11 Scourge Byla- ,

330 Cong Colt, the Quaker City Detective. By Charles
orris. ‘

350 Flash 05:11:09, the Society Detective. By Weldon ‘
868 Bart Brennan; or. ﬂexing of Straight m .

By John Cuth
8661‘? Telegraph Detede By George Ian-y
arse.

410 Sarah Brown, Detective. Ry K. 1'. Hill.

MThIeeglgingGiim;or.ThalslnﬂIm syn... f

A new issue even; Wadnaday.
Boadle’s Dime Library is tor-ab III!

hewadeabmtencentspercopymramtbymaﬂu '-

receipt of twelvecentscach. BEADLIQADAE
WGWMNnYﬂ .

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BEADLE’SrDIMErLLBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

BY COL. PBEN'I‘ISS INGRAIIAM.

2 The Dare Devil; or, The Winged Sea Witch.
85 The Cretan Rover; or. Zuleikah the Beautiful.
89 The Pirate Prince; or. The Queen of the Isle.
94 Freelance. the Buccaneer.
103 Merle, the Mutineer; or. The Red Anchor Brand.
104 Montezuma. the Merciless.
129 Captain Kyd, the King of the Black Flag.

' 1 6 Black Plume; or The Sorceress of Hell Gate.
121 The Sea Cadet; or, The Rover of the Rigoletts.
128 The Chevalier Corsair; or The Heritage.

131 Buckskin Sam. the Texas Trailer.

184 Darke Dan, the Colored Detective.

139 Fire e; or. The Bride of a Buccaneer.

147 ld pur. the Gentleman from Texas.

155 he Comair Queen: or, The Gypsies of the Sea.
162 The Mad Mariner; or. Dishonored and Disowned
1” Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot.

172 Black Pirate; or, The Golden Fetters Mystery.
177 Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair.

181 The Scarlet Schooner; or. The Sea Nemesis.

; 184 The Ocean Vam ire' or, The Castle Heiress.
189 Wild Bill’s Gold ml; or. The. Des crate Dozen.
198 The Skeleton Schooner; or, The Sk mmer.

205 The Gambl ~r Pirate; or, Lady of the Lagoon.

210 Buccaneer Bess. the Lioness of the Sea.

216 The Corsair Planter; or, Driven to Doom.
920 The Specter Yacht; or, A Brother‘s Crime.
224 Black Beard, Ihe Buccaneer.

. an The Kid Glove Miner; or, The Magic Doctor.

. 235 Red Ll htning the Man of Chance.
246 ueen eieu, the Amazon of the Overland.
255 he Pirate Priest; or, The Gem bler‘s Da hter.
259 Cutlass and Cross; or, the Ghouls of the a.
281 TheSea Owl; or, The Lad Ca tain of the Gulf.
m The Phantom Pirate; or, T 1e ater Wolves.
818 The Indian uuccaneer; or, [he Red Rovers.
3% The Gentlem'm Pirate; or The Casco Hermite.
329 The Inague of Three; or, Bull'an Bill‘s Pledge.
$6 The Magic Ship; or, Sandy Hook Freebooters.
341 The Sm. Desperado,
816 Ocean Guerrillas; or, Phantom Midshi man.
862 Buffalo Bill‘s Grip; or Oath Bound to uster.
364 The Sea Fa tive; or, The Quenn of the Coast.
369 The Coast orsair; or, The Siren of the Sea.
373 Sailor of Fortune; or, The Btrne at Buccaneer.
877 Aﬂoat and Ashore; or. The Cor =a1r Cons irator.
388 The Giant Buccaneer; or, The Wrecker itch.
393 The Convict Captian; or, The Battles of the
Buccaneers.

899 The New Monte Cristo.
418 The Sea Siren; or, The Fugitive Privateer.
425 The Sea Sword; or. The Ocean Rivals.
430 The Fatal Frigate' or, Rivals in Love and War.
435 The One-Armed uccaueer.

BY 0 L L COOMES.

7 Death Notch, the Destroyer.

43 Dakota Dan the Reckless Ranger.

44 Old Dan Rackhack the Great Extarmlnator.
46 B Mir-Knife Ben, t e Nor’wrst Hunter.

48 idaho Tom the Young Outlaw of Silverland.
51 Red Rob, the Boy Road—A‘gent.
99 The Giant Riﬂeman; or. ild Camp Life.
137 Long Beard, the Giant. Spy.
148 One-Armed Alf. the Giant Hunter.

BY CAPTAIN HOWARD HOLMES.

278 Hercules Goldspur the Man of the Velvet Hand.
284 Broadcloth Burt, the Denver Dandy.
821 California Claude, the Lone Bandit.

 3% Flash Dan. the Nubob; or. Blades of Bowie Bar.

340 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective.
347 Denver Duke. the Man with “Sand.”
4 852 The Desperate Dnzt-n.
865 Keen Kennard, the Shasta Shadow.
874 Major Blister, the Sport of Twu Cities.
382 The Bonanza Band; or Dread Don of Cool Clan.
392 The Lost Bonanza; or, he Boot of Silent Hound.
' 400 Captain Coldzrip; or. The New York Spotter.
407 Captain Coldgrip's None or, Injun Nick. '
413 Captain Coldgrig in N ew ’York.
421 Father Ferre , t e Frisco Shadow.
434 Lucifer Lynx. the Wonder Detective.
441 The California Sleuth.

BY AN'I‘IIONY P. MORRIS.

5 The Fire Fiends; or, Hercules. Hunchback.
95 Azhort. the Arman; or, The Palace Secrets.
100 The French Spy° or. The Bride of Paris.
167 The Man of Steel. Tale of Love and Terror.
1815 Man S ider; or. The Beautiful 8 hinx.
238 Hank ound the Crescent City etective.
no The Masked M story; or, The Black Crescent.
Elec'ro Pete. t e Man of Fire.
The Roughs of Richmond.
818 Mark Magic, Detective.
834 Th‘g‘ﬁipber Detective; or, Mark Magic‘s New

343 The Head Hunter; or, Mark Magic in the Mine.
57 Jack Simona. Detective.

, Int mason DANIEL BOONE nvmou'r.
‘, :83 Silver Sam, the Detective; or, The Butte City
Rustle

rs. .
ass Colonel Double-Edge, the Cattle Baron's Pard.
411 The White Crook; or. Old Hark’s Fortress. ,
as The Odd River Sport; or, A Man of Honor. '
4M Salamander Sam.

 
BY BUFFALO BILL (Hon. W. F. Cody).

59 Death-Trailer. the Chief of Scouts.

83 Gold Bullet Sport; or, Knights of the Overland.
243 The Pil rim Shar ; or, The Soldier's Sweetheart.
304 Texas ack, the rairie Rattler.

319 Wild Bill, the Whirlwind of the West.

394 White Beaver, the Exile of the Platte.

397 The Wizard Brothers; or, White B aver’s Trail.
401 One-Armed Pard: or, Borderland Retribution.
414 Red Renard, the Indian Detective.

BY MAJOR DANGERFIELB BUBB.

92 Buffalo Bill, the Buckskin King.

117 Dashing Dandy; or, The Hotspur of the Hills.
142 Ca tain Crimson, the Man of the iron Face.

156 Ve vet Face, the Border Bravo.

175 Wild Bill‘s Trump Card; or, The Indian Heiress.
188 The Phantom Mazeppa; or, The Hyena.

BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

28 Three-Flngered Jack, the Road-Agent.
30 Gospel George; or, Fiery Fred, the Outlaw.
40 Lon Haired Pards; or, The Tarters of the Plains.
45 Old ull’s-Eye, the Lightning Shot.
47 Paciﬁc Pete, the Prince of the Revolver.
50 Jack Rabbit, the Prairie S art.
64 Double-Si ht, the Death S wt.
67 The Boy ockey: 0r, Honesty vs. Crookedness.
71 Captain Cool Blade; or, Mississip i Man Shark.
88 Big George; or. The Five Outlaw rothers.
105 Dan Brown of Denvm'; or. The Detective.
119 Alabama Joe; or. The Yazoo Man-Hunters.
127 Sol Scott, the Masked Miner.
141 Equinox Tom the llul'y of Red Rock.
154 Joaquin, the Saddle King.
165 Joaquin, the Terrible.
170 Sweet William, the Trapper Detective.
180 Old ‘49; or. The Amazon of Arizona.
197 Revolver Rob' or, The Belle 01' Nugget Cam .
201 Pirate of the Placer-s; or. J oaquin's Death unt.
233 The Old Hoy of Tombstone.
%1 Spitfire Saul, King of the Bustiers.
219 Elephant Tom. of Durungo.
257 Death Trap Diggings; or. A Hard Man from
‘Wa Back. '
283 Sleek Sam, the Devil of the Mines.
286 Pistol Johnny; 0r, Owe Man in a Thousand.
292 Moke Homer. the Boss Roustabout.
302 Faro Saul, the Handsome Hercules.
317 Frank Lightfoot, the Miner Detective.
324 Old Forked Lightnin . the Solitary.
331 Chispa Charle . the Goll Nugget Sport.
339 S read Eagle am, the Hercu es Hide Hunter.
315 asked Mark, the Mounted Detective.
351 Nor‘ West Nick, thi- Border Detective.
355 Stormy Steve, the Mad Athlete.
360 Jumping Jerry, the Gamecock from Sundown.
367 A Royal Flush; or, Dan Brown's Big Game.
372 Captain Crisp, the Man with a Record.
379 Howling Jonathan, the 'l‘error from Headwaters.
387 D ll'k Durg, the Ishmael of. the Hills.
895 Deadly Alm, the Duke of Derringers.
403 The Nameless Sport; or,'The Kilkenny Cats of

'Way-U&

409 Rob Ro nch- or, The Imps of Pan Handle.

416 Monte im the Black Sheeg of Bismarck.

426 The Ghost Detective; or. T e Spy of the Secret
. Service.

433 Laughing Leo; or, Sam‘s Dandy Pard.

4i Oklahoma Nick.

443 A Cool Hand; or, Pistol Johnny’s Picnic.

BY ED‘VARI) WILLET'I‘.

129 Mimissippi Mose; or, a Stro Man’s Sacriﬁce.
209 Buck Farley. the Bonanza Pr nce.

222 Bill the Blizzard; or. Red Jack’s Crime.

248 Montana Nat, the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
874 Flush Fred, the Mississippi Sport.

289 Flush Fred 8 Full Hand.

298 L gger Lem; or, Lite in the Pine Woods.
BIB Hemlock Hank. Tough and True.

315 Flush Fred‘s Double' or, The Squatters’ League.
327 Terrapin Dick, the Wild wood Detective.

837 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp.

348 Dan Dillon, King of Crosscut.

868 The Canyon King; or, a Price on his Head.

BY NED BUN'I‘LINE.
14 Thayendane' es, the Scou e' or The War-Eagle.
16 The White Vgizard; or, T? Seminole Prophet.
18 The Sea Bandit; or, T'ie ueen of the Isle.
as The Red Warrior; or. The Comanche Lover.
61 Captain Seawall, the Privateer.
111 The Smuggler Ca thin or. The Skipper’s Crime.
192 Saul Sabberday, t e Idiot s .
270 Andros the Rover; or, The rate's Daughter.
361 Tombstone Dick, the Train Pilot.

BY WILLIAM II. MANNING.

279 Th'e Gold Dragoon, or, The California Blood-
ount .

297 Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hotspur.

885 Will Dick Turpin the Leadvllle Lion.

405 Old Baldy, the Bri adit-r of Buck Basin.

415 Hot Heart, the De ective S y.

427 The Rivals of Montana Mil

487 Dene: ke the Silent Sleuth.

«2 w West Walt. the Mountain Veteran.

 
BY COLONEL BELLE SARA.

53 Silver Sam; or, The Mystery of De'tdwood City.
87 The Scarlet Captain; or. Prisoner of the Tower:
106 Shamus O’Brien, the Bould Boy of Glingal.

BY PHILIP S. WARNE.

1 A Hard Crowd; or, Gentleman Sam‘s Sister;

4 The Kidnap .r; or, The Northwest Shanghai.
29 Tiger Dick. aro King; or, The Cashier’s Crime.
51 Always on Hand; or, The Foot-Hide Sport.

80 A Man of Nerve; or, Cahban the Dwarf.

114 The Gentleman from Pike.

171 Tiger Dick. the Man of the Iron Heart.

207 Old Hard Head; or. Whirlwind and his Mare.

251 Tiger Dick vs. Iron D -s ard.

28) Tiger Dick‘s Lone Han .

299 Three of a Kind; or, Tiger Dick. Iron Despard
and the Sportivo Sport.

338 Jack Sands the Boss of the Town.

359 Yellow Jack. the Mestizo.

380 Tiger Dick’s Pied e; or, The Golden Serpent,

401 Silver Sid; or, A ‘ Daisy ” Bluff.

431 California Kit, the Always on Hand.

BY' J. C. COIVDRICK.

890 The Giant Cupid; or Cibuta John’s Jubilee.

422 Blue Grass Burt. the Gold Star Detective.

436 Kentucky Jean, the S ort from Yellow Pine; or,
Blue-eyed Belle of ended Bow.

BY GEORGE C. JENKS.

398 Sleepless Eye the Paciﬁc Detective.
432 The Giant Horseman; or, Tracking the Red
Cross Gang.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

27 The Spotter Detective; or, Girls of New York.
31 The New York Shur ; or, The Flash of Lightning.
83 Overland Kit; or, he ldyl of Whi e Pine.
34 Rocky Mountain Bob, the California Outlaw.
35 Kentuck the Sport: or, Dick [‘albot of the Mines.
36 Injun Dick; or. The Denth Shot of Shasta.
38 Velvet Hand; or, In un Dick‘s Iron Grip.
41 Gold Dan: or, The hite Savage of Salt Lake,
42 The California Detective; or, The Wi'ches of NY.
49 The Wolf Demon; or, The Kauawha Queen.
56 he Indian Manet-pa; or, Madman of the Plains.
59 he Man from i‘vxas; or, The Arkansas Outlaw.
63 The Winged Whale; or, The Red Rupert of Gulf.
72 The Phantom Hand; or The 5th AvonueHcitess.
75 Gentleman Geor e; or. Parlor. Prison and Street.
77 The Fresh of Frisco; or, The Heiress.
79 Joe Phenix, the Police Spy. ,
81 Tue Human Tiger; or, A can of Fire.
84 Hunted Down; or, The League of Three.
91 The Winnin Car; or, The Innkeeper‘s Daughter.
93 Captain Dic Talbot. King of the Road.
97 Bronze Jack. the California Thoroughbred.
101 The Man from New York. .
107 Richard Talbot. of Cinnabar.
112 Joe Phenix. Private Detective.
130 Captain Volcano: or, The Man of Red Revolvers.
161 The Wolves of New York' or, J0.» Phenix‘s Hunt.
17:3 C-ilifornia John. the Paciﬁc Thoroughbred.
196 La Marmoset, the Detective een.
203 The Double Detective; or,The ldnight Mystery,
252 The Wall Street Blood; or, The Tehgra' h Girl;
320 The Genteel SBotter; or. The N. Y Night Hawk.
849 Iron-Hearted it is. the Gentleman Road-Agent.
354 Red Richard; 01 The Crimson Cross Brand.
363 Crowningshield, the Sleuth; or. Pitiiess as Death.
370 The Dusky Detective; or. Pursued to the End.
870 Black Beards; 01. The Rio Grande High Horse.
881 The Gyps Gentleman; or Nick Fox, Detective.
384 Injun Dic , Detective; or, racked to New York-
391 Kate Scott. the Decoy Detec ive.
408 Doc Grip, the Vendetta of Death.
419 The Bat of the Batterv ' or. Joe Phenix. Detective.
42s The Lone Hand; or, The Red River Recreants. J
440 The High Home of the Paciﬁc. .

LATEST AND NEW ISSUES.

_ 444 The Magic Detective; or. The Hidden Hand. By

Jackson nox.

445 J ourne man John. the Cham ion; or, The Win-
ning and. By Capt. F. W ittaker.

446 Ocean 0 . the Outcast Corsair: or. The Good:
Shipo Ill-Omen. By Col. P. lngraham.

447 Vo'cano. the Frisco Spy. By Captain Howard
Holmes.

448 Hark Kenton. the Traitor; or The Hunted Life.
By Maj. Dangerﬁeld Burr. Ready my 25.

449 Bluff Burke, King of the Rockies. By Wm. H.
Manning. Rea y June 1.

450 The Rustler Detective; or. The Bounding Duck
1 from Buffalo Wallow. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.
Ready June 8.

451 Gri lock, the Rocket Detective. By Jackson
nox. Ready June 15.
A new issue every Wednesday.

Beadle’s Dime Library is for sale by all;
Newsdealers. ten cents per copy, or sent by mail on
receipt of twelve cents each.

BEADLE AND ADAMS. Panama,
as William Street, New York.