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COPYRIGHTED IN l589.BV BEADI—E & ADAMS.

ENTERED at 1'!“ POST OFFICE AT NEW YORK. N. YI. AT SECOND CLASS MAIL Rn'la

 

QBeadle (f- JZKZUJI'LS, (Publishers, TenCentaaCopy.

Published Every
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Wedneldfl-Y. 98 WILLIAM STREET. N. Y.. Dr-ccmber 25. 1889-

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‘ MM \‘ I o

 I A RED RANSOM.

A Tale of Oklahoma Banter-

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and Boomers.

AUTHOR or “CAPTAIN mnxmm‘.” “ nannacx
BUCK.” “ SIX-FOOT SI," “ SILVER mer
SID,” THE “ TIGER DICK ” seams, ETC.

CHAPTER I.
THE BRONCHO-BUSTER.
“ FOB ways that are dark and for tricks that
are vain, the Heathen Chinee is” " nowhar"—-
\ 1' as compared with “ the everlastin‘ Yankee.”
‘ k S; Instance the last Indian steal. Oklahoma.
W, I  7 Here are the “ frozen facts.”
"II/H  ' a With the usual solemn pledges, this garden of
‘ '~~—' ~ the West was ceded to the exiled Seminoles and
their descendants “ forever,” which forever was
r I 7 N b;ought tesgg abbrgpt pc-triodlvgjen, in the year
 V > r 7- 7- _ 0 race ,te ones wi.man beganfo
\  ' " flef ' ' casgt covetous eyes on the belongmgs of “ lazy
injun bucks.”

wmmllllflm 

l
4
1 BY PHILIP s. WARNE.

“LET ant as CAPTAIN ADAIR, on wao HE MAY, HE IS HERE FOR Low: or ME!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

2 Captain Adair, the Cattle 7 ing.

 

For their inheritance those then in possession
Were given fifteen cents an acre, plus Hobson’s
choice—-“ that, or nothing."

To sugar- coat this bitter bolus, it was ex-
pressly stipulated that the territor should be
used for the location of other In ians and of
freedmau. No white man should gain a foot-
hold within its limits.

Of course this was a fraud from the mark:but
pol? “ Lo,” if he knew it, could not help him-
se .

After a pretense of settling freedmen on the
land—a more handful, too few to be materially
in anyhody‘s way, but enough to serve as evi-
dence of the honest intentions of the Govern-
ment—the whole country fell into the clutches
of the Cattle Kings, who divided their plunder
among them with barbed wire fences.

But there are lazy white men in the world, as
well as lazy Injun bucks. From Dakota to
Arizona, from Missouri to Utah, 9. Gypsy-like
lot of vagabonds roam the country in the tilted
wagons, moving on when they are “ e’ena’most
starved to death " where they happen to be.

So numerous are the 6 people that they form
a recognized class in the community, and are
known as “ Movers.”

In 1879 a man with all the instincts of a fili-
buster and some of the qualifications of a pioneer
discovered the legal status of Oklahoma; and by
December of the following year he had gath-
ered about him a little army of invasion, six
hundred strong, made up for the most part of
Movers, with—“ to take the curse off "—a s rink-
ling of honest men, seeking to make onest
homes by honest labor.

Then u rose the great and glorious Govern-
ment of t e United States, moved to righteous
indignation b this flagrant breach of the treaty,
and at the go of the sword baled, Oklahoma
Payne and his raiders back over the border.
And the Cattle Kings put up their wire fences

an}, singing peans to their god, the Almighty
- 0 31‘.

But now came the wicked speculator, with his
shekels for arguments, and the Lobby at Wash-
ington as the arena of his triumph. And while
the tram Chieftain wasted himself and his

followers in fruitless raids, only to fall dead one

day some said of heart disease, some said of i-
son by procurement of the Cattle Kings, the ob-
byist made plain tothe American statesman the
sudden dearth of Indians and freedmen, which
rendered it forever impossible to carry out the
terms of the treaty. Whereupou the Government
once more favored its cherished “ wards ” with
Hohson’s choice—four million dollars or nothing,
as equivalent for a waiver of the prohibitive
Condition.

This jug-handle negotiation was concluded
last winter, with the result we all know—the
discomflture 0f the Cattle Kings, the smug com—
placency of the speculators, the m ical rise and
fall of a city in an afternoon, a the buried
hopes of thousands, with the brief epitaph,
£6  l”

The follmving story is an episode in the
stru gle between the tramp “ Movers” and the
Catt 9 Kings for, possession of the spoil of the
heathen.

For obvious reasons the Cattle Kings were ex-
ceedingly polite to the army officers; and it was
a part of this cultivation of friendly relations
that one of their number had a barbecue at his
ranch, to which were summoned as most honored
guests Major Browning of Fort Reno, his pretty
sister Ethel, and her «school friend, Ada Savoy.

Never did the sun shine more brightly down
through the crystalline air, than on the morn-
ing when Major Browning and his party rode to
the barbecue at Owen Adair’s ranc .

They were not yet in sight of the roup of low,
shagging structuresls that gave 3 elter to the
Ca ing and h dependents, when they
descried a moving cloud of dust on the distant
horizon.

“What can it be?” asked Ada Savoy, whose
bright blue eyes had that telescopic power which
has led to the selection of blue-eyed men as the
best sharp-shooters. “ Do you see it, Major
Browning? Just to the left of that clump of
trees. It must be a body of horsemen who have
come through or from behind the timber.
Could it be— You don’t suppose-”

Miss Ads did not finish her question;but look-
ed at her escort with deprecating embarrass-

ment. .
iclint the shot of ridicule came from the other
8 e.
Ethel Browning greeted her friend’s appre-
hensions with a burst of merry laughter.

“ Irndiaus? Do you dream of being scalped,

a

" I don’t care!” declared Ada, with a pretty
knitting of her brows. “I think it is just
horrid to have these wretched creatures all
about one i” ‘ '

“ But as lon as the are harmless? And so
romantic! I lke to eel the cold chills run
down my back when they fix their black eyes
upon me l”

“ I wish you had my share of the enjoyment 1”

Meanwhile Major Browning had been looking
through his field glass.

“1 think there is no cause for alarm,” be

ad, with a quiet smile.

 

He did not explain further, from a wish as it
proved not to mar the ladies’ pleasure.

Soon the approaching cavalcade was distinct-
ly visible to the naked eye, when it resolved itself
into a company of cowboys riding at break—
neck speed.

On they came, drawing their weapons as they
neared the party, which had pulled up, and
brandishing them above their heads with the
peculiar yup-yup of defiance so familiar to the
western wilds.

“It is Mr. Adair!” cried Ethel, the moment
she recognized the leader of the line strung out
according to the various qualities of the horses,
though Ada, who had icked him out long be—
fore, suid not a word of her discovery. “ Doesn’t
he ride like a—like a—Pawnee? N0, ’11 take
that back. There is no bow-legged Injun about
himl He rides like a true prince of the saddle.
I have more than half a mind to cut you out,
my;V dear l" .

his concluding threat was whispered so that
no one but Ada heard it.

Miss Savoy drew herself up with stately dis-
pleasure, disdaining reply.

On came the chargin
around the halted party ike a band of Sioux
braves, swinging out o the saddle to the off
side of their horses, so that only a foot was pre-
sented as a mark to those surrounded, and in
this position discharging their revolvers under
the necks of their horses. »

It was a spirited display, and so realistic that
Miss Savoy’s e es were unusually bright and her
breathing rapid, when Owen Adair rode in to
the center, and rising to place in the saddle,
greeted her with a gracefu bow and a smile of
undisguised admiration.

“ I have come to furnish you with an escort
through the enemy’s country,” he said, laughing
at Miss Ada’s well-known nervousness about
Indians. 9

“ It is very welcome,” she answered, possibly
with a covert meaning in her words.

Certainly her eyes rested upon his face with-
out disapproval.

“ I don I: suppose you have come intending to
take any of us prisoners!” observed Ethel, slyly.

“ I have long been a prisoner myself!” an-
sWered Owen, with a look that gave a mock
complimentary si niflcance to his reply.

But Ethel on nked him by promptly an-
swering:

“ Let me be the first to offer my congratula-
tionsl”

“ You will be asked only for your assent,” he
retorted, not yet willing to acknowledge that he
was down.

But she floored him the next round.

“With all m heart, if I have the promise of
first bride’s- dl”

By this time the covert subject of this little
sparrigg match was looking exceedin ly fresty.

“ ‘not we better move on, Ma or Brown-
If} T’ghle asked, ignoring the laughing allusions
o t e .

Owen made a spasmodic effort to gain her
side, but with a touch of the s ur she placed her-
self under the'escort of the sol ier.

Behind her back her mischievous friend
lau hed silent] at Owen’s discomflture beckon-
ing im to his ate beside her by teasineg crook-
ing her finger.

‘ Where is your generalshipi” she whispered,
when he had submitted to the inevitable.

“ There is no questioning yours.” he returned,
looking with rueful amusement into her twink-
ling black eyes

“ And do you think I would tamely submit to
anything so stupid as my own brother, when
there is so altogether bewildering a personage
as—well, as there is in the field?”

“ I have found your brother right good fel-
low,’though not quite so bew dering as his sis-
ter. .

“ Oh, there’s nothing wrong with Rex but the
relationship. Brothers, you know, are like
plain bread and butter at a party. One has
enough of that at home!”

With this sort of bhafl Ethel Browning be-
guiled the way, at least to her own satisfaction.

At the ranch she found a party of young
cattle-men, who had come in since Owen set out
to do especial honor to his military guests, and
every one of whom was anxious to (play the
devoted to her. Whereupon she gave wen his
release, with only a derisive wink as return for
his efforts to entertain her.

It was not ver, difficult for him to make his

with Mia avoy, though there continued
stench of unforgiving hsuteur in her manner.

She was a stately beauty, and this became her

well. .

She dune ecli the other ladies from the
fort; and even the] hold her own against her
only by the incessant play of the merry fmps of
mischief that were rife in her.

The entertainment was, a truly Western one.
the stifl formality of the East giving place to a
breezy freedom in keeping with the unbounded
“ elbow-room ” of the country.

Everybody was tmisterously gay, without fear
of offending the proprieties. It could not we“
be otherwise, when the principal source of
pleasure was the saddle.

. The cowboys displayed their wonderful horse-
.. . _

cowboys, circling

 

manship, their skill with the revolver, lasso, etc.
There was running, wrestling, and even a some-
what spirited sparring match.

Of course there was the best of good eating;
tobacco suited those who could draw content-
ment through a pipe-stem; and, if the truth
must out, it was not a Cold-water party by
compulsion.

But the crowning feature of the day was re—
served by the young host for himself.

If there was one thing in which Owen Adair
took an irrational pride, it was his reputation as
a “ broncho-bu’ster.”

He always insisted that he liked a horse, as a
woman, “ with a 8 ice of the devil” in him.

On this occasion ewas dressed in full cowboy

rig, not forgetting the clumsy-looking leggings
with which the lower extremities are pro-
tected. ,
When the time came for him to show how the
unturned horse of the prairie is broken, he rode
with his guests to Where his herders were keeping
a large drove of mustangs in a compact 

Pointing out the animal he had selec , he
plunged into the herd to cut out his victim.

The struggle that ensued corroborated the
statement of a fellow-ranchman, that he had
picked out the worst specimen in the let.

“ Adair is welcome to the glory he’ll get out
of that match,” said Carl Berkhardt, who was
for the moment the favored man with Ethel
Browning, if one could be called favored where
half a dozen others were in receipt of a running
fire of smiles and badinage.

“ Is it so hazardous, Mr. Berkhardt?” asked
Ethel, with the off-hand carelessness of one who
had no great realization of danger.

“ Well, the beast nearly broke the neck of our
best bu’ster. That’s the reason Adair has taken
him in hand.” . .

“But why does he tern t Prov1dence in that
way? but strange hes 9 you fellows have on
your shoulders! One would think that a most
excellent reason for letting the brute alone.”

Berkhardt laughed.

“I am afraid that asawarrior, you would
lead no forlorn ho , Miss Ethel.” ‘

“ Indeed I won d not! What is the use in
getting ourse‘lf killed to no purpose
nothing? And on will never know

H Is
what nasalve it is to broken nes, to have a air
-a particular ir, you understand—of bright

eyes look shy a miration at you.”

“ Oh! So you do it for us, do you? I wonder

for whom Mr. Adair is risking his precious
eck’!”

n “ I know whom I should do it for—if at all i”
l u bed Borkhardt.

a‘gWhomf” asked Ethel, with such bright
curiosity, and such a steady and straightforward
look in the eye, that Berkhsrdt was daunted;
and two red s ts that would have become his
sister appeal-aria his fair German cheeks.

“ Why—why—” ,

But he stammered and broke down. ,

“ You haven‘t the pluck to tell, any more
than to ride that friskgnbroncho!” declared Miss
Ethel turning from b With a shrug.

Berkhardt got out of the scraps as best he
could. _
“ You are giving a better answer than I did
to your first question,” he said. “ Do not be
surprised if you hear of my taking to broncho-
bu’sting after this.”

“ When you do ” said Ethel. turning back to
him ”with a dazzling smile, “let me see you
ride. .

“ By Jovel—I—I beg your pardon! But it
won’t be longl”_ _

And the impremionable fellow looked as if he
meant it.

Meanwhile Ada Savoy had heard without
comment. Her eyes grew darker as she watched
Owen flashing back and forth in the surging
mass of horses.

Soon he lhad the vliicious broncho out of the
drove and t rown on t e . ,

To hold him down and bind and blind him
till saddle and bridle could ho strapped securely
in lace, was the liveliest  of Work for him-
selfand two or three others. .

Then the anme allowed to use, only to
stand stock-still trembling in every nerve.

Owen leaped into the saddle, seating himself
securely and gathering the rein in a firm hand,
the beast still standing like a quivsrlu statue.

Then lifting ‘lgs hat to his guests wit a cheer-

ho so :

fua‘l'glliiilleil the last you will see of me for some
time, unless you have light heels under you.
Good- i
The fast hvivas to his horse as he whisked the
blind from s 0 es. -
.Aerasumim up- that:

he m n a on a
I"! “0:811 to make a would-be broncho—bu’ster
of an man.

Fory a moment the horse stood stock-still, his
bloodshot eyes rolling from side to side.

Then, as if propelled by some internal ex-
plosion, he shot up into the air, to come down
stiff-legged, with a force that must have shaken
“Th,” any magi“ (i): the gadget-log the next

is was a nu g; an n
few moments he did everything but turn him-
self inside out.

 

I

i

v
r-r

 

 

.2 _,4\
. . , . . ,,

 

How the rider kept his seat was a marvel. If . gled mustang, at a pace which showed that the

he had been a part of the animal, he could not
have seemed more secure. Owen kept laughing
derisivel as he slatted the beast with his broad-
brimmejhat and prodded him with the spur.

The climax was reached when the maddened
brute threw himself over backward.

Ada’s lips were bloodless, and an involuntary
cry of alarm escaped her. The others were
scarcely less affected; but the asp of a pre-
hension ended in a shout of app ause as wen
appeared standing on his feet, ready torenew
the struggle as soon as his horse arose.

The broncho was not slow in scrambling to
his feet; but he found his master as flrmly
seate'i as before, with only added determination
in his spurs, and in the bridle-rein.

Then, with a squeal of rage, the rebel set of!

at railroad speed, scouring the prairie like a ,
’ without further thought, but that, while she re.

bird on the wing.

“Come on!” shouted Owen.
legs win!”

And away the whole party flashed in pursuit.

It was far more exciting sport than a fox-
chase. The issue might involve a broken neck.

There was one in the following company who
outstrip d all competitors.

Ada vaoy was superblg' mounted. She had
had the choice of horse-fies at the fort, and had
proved her knowledge by selecting the best.

Now she led everything, but not keeping pace
with the wild mustang, nor with even a fair
promise of holding him in sight to the end of the
raw.

“ Now the best

 

CHAPTER II.
BIVALS.

ON the banks of the beautiful North Fork of
the Canadian River stood a fair young girl, fish-
ing with a hazel rod for a lily that floated on
the surface of the water in a shallow edd .

She had cut the rod with a reversed ork at
one end, and, supporting herself by clinging to
a branch of a cottonwood tree t at grew out
over the stream, she sought to pass her im ro-
vised hook round the stem of the lily, an so
pull it up by the roots.

When she had secured the trophy, and having
cleaned its stem of slime, held it in triumph and
pleased admiration at her bosom, the easy-flow-
ing lines of her lithe young figure were charm-
ingly striking.

Her face was ust the accom niment one
would wish—red-l pped, fair-chee ed, and with
clear, fearless gra eyes, the whole framed in a
silken wealth of ark-brown hair.

Her dress, of utmost simplicity, had no charm
save that it borrowed from her person. There
was not the relief of even a knot of ribbon, as a
an cation of maiden coquetry.

earl Pancoast—no one thought of disputing
it—was the bells of Oklahoma.

To see the effect of her sim in ornament, she
threw herself down on the ban and leaned once
more over the water, to use its smooth surface
as a mirror.

Yet it Was not with vanity that she gazed at
her own beauty. :

As the thought flashed across her 'mind that
some day Some one would rize it even more

‘ than she did, rival roses sud only glowed in her

 

a

 

‘, woul welcome his blufl love-making wi
‘. same indulgence.

cheeks, and she started back in pretty shame.

But it left her with a dreamy light in her
eyes, growing softer and darker as she lost her~
self in castle-building:

Who would it be? Not one of the clumsy
young fellows who sought in their boisterous
way to win favor in her eyes. She knew them
all, with qualified admiration of their strength
and boldness in some cases, but with none of
that sweet satisfaction which her heart craved.

They thought that a pinch on the arm, or a
stinging slat with their broad-brimmed hats, fol-
lowed by a roar of laughter, was a suitable pre-
liminary to the more serious business of “ keepin’
comp’nfy.”

Her ather’s aflection for her found its natural
expression in a rough-and-tumble “ tousle,” as
he called it, or more often “ mauling " or “ dev-

ili g.”
fiat this roughness lost sight of in the tender-
ness of heart underlying it, which she had ex~
perienced all her life, did not in him offend her
delicacy, as it did in the younger men who
sou ht a like familiarity.
o be, when the right one came alon , she
the

But meanwhile she dreamed of a prince, gen-

” tie without unuiauliness; winning, but no weak-

ling: a poet in fancy, yet a hero in action.

Even as she heaved a sigh of fear that it would
never be more than a disappointed dream, she
was startled out of her reverie by the rapid thud
of a horse’s hoofs in the rairie loam behind her.

As is common in the country, the course 0
the river was marked by a belt of timber.
Where she sat she cplpld not war he soon by
an one passing on e open 0.

urious to know who it mi ht be, yet cautious
about discovering herself, I e sprung up and

‘ stole through the chaparral, to peer forth from

her leafy covert.
She saw, not one of the is of her dail as-
sociation, but a cowboy, mg a mud- -

 

spirit of the animal was yet far from being
broken, though both he and his rider had had a
des rute time of it.

he horse’s breast was dappled with flecks of
bloody foam that flew from his champing lips,
and his heaving flanks reeked with sweat, in
spite of the fact that he had more than once been

i submerged in the waters of a ford.

The man’s scratched face and torn shirt
showed that he had been swept mercilessly
through tangled brush.

It was evident that he had turned the untamed
beast so as to follow the course of the river, in-
stead of dashing into it.

Seen from where Pearl Pancoast stood, there
was nothing in Owen Adair’s ap arance to dis-
tin uish him from any other roncho-bu’ster,
8.1M? the girl would have allowed him to pass

garded him with—fora reason presently to be
given—a frown of displeasure, the horse stepped
into the hole of some burrowing animal, and
went down, taming a complete somerset.

With a cry of horror, the girl stood for a mo—d
merit to see the extent of the mishap before re-
vealin herself; but neither horse nor rider
arose rom that tumble. The former struggled
in vain to regain his feet, uttering cries of pain.
The latter lay quite still.

Then, abandoning all further caution, the girl
ran out upon the prairie, to see if her help might
avail anything].

The speed ad been so great and the fall so
sudden that Adair, his wonted activity dulled
by exhaustion, could not save himself; and he
went down with stunning force, narrowly es-
ctfiitiling the crushing weight of his horse on top
0 im.

It was the shock of fallin on the broad of his
back that left him insensib 6. Though the soft
gerairie loam precludes bruising, it is possible to
' thoroughly shaken up by a fall, with a severe
Jar or wrenc .

With low murmurin s of itiful distress the
girl cast herself on her nees side the prostrate
rider, and sought to lift his head.

Even in that moment she felt a strange thrill
of recognition. Not the recognition of personal
acquaintance. She had never seen him before.
But he, or his like, had been in her thoughts only
a moment ago.

Now with a feeling of appropriation, as if he
belonged to her, her sympathy went out with a
tenderness she had never before experienced.

In vain she chafed his temples and beat the
palms of his hands. Then seizing his hat, she
ran with it to the river, and returned with water
to revive him.

It was all done ver uickly; and when Owen
Adair came to himss f, 9 saw that he was tend-
ed by a remarkably prett girl, where he had no
region to expect to flu girls, pretty or other-

W .

As he 0 ned his eyes, she started back, with
tender so icitude, and maiden shyness, and ap-
prehension, all visible in her eyes and manner.

“ You do not think,” he said, with reproach in
his voice, “ that 'I would return your kindness
by betraying on?”

A sw1ft flus swept from chin to temples, and
she returned quickly:

“ I hope you don’t believe me so mean as to
look out only for myself when I saw you hurt?”

He smiled as he read her countenance.

What a charming one it was, in its exquisite
purity and shy simplicity!

Gazing at her and wondering who she might
be, he was for the moment oblivious to his poni-
ble hurts.

“ Let me thank you for your kindness, and in
the same breath ask you to run away and hide
yourself a ain,” he said, speaking to her in a
confldenti way, as if a secret between them put
them at once on a footing of comradeship.

The girl felt this in his voice and saw it in the
smile with which his eyes lingered u n her
face; and the conscious blood aspen in her
cheeks.

“ Desert you!" she exclaimed.

Then, in a low, determined voice, she de-
clared:

“ No; whatever comes of it.”

“ You are very kind: but you need luvs no
scrupges on my account. I have friends com-

ing—

But suddenly he broke off, and put the situa-
tion a little differently.

“ That is to say, there are some ladies and
gentlemen who are follOwing me for the fun of
seeing that unlucky broncho bu’sted, but I am
afraid,” he added, icoking at the faintly strug-
glin animal, “he is bu’stcd indeed.”

“ e ought to be put out of his misery,” ob-
servedthe girl.

And to Owen’s surprise, she drew a revolver,
as if about to take the task I: herself.

“ He has broken his l short. He is of
no further use. Shall I o it?"

“ Oh, leave that for the men who will present-
l{ be along!” protested Owen, shrinking from
t e idea of a woman, and so delicate a one, as-
suming such violence.

\“ He had better be dead than snflorlng,” an-
swered the girl.

And the expression of countenance with which

i . ‘

\

 

  e causing". ' l  ‘ M ' 3

a

she looked at the beast showed that she shrunk
from pain with nick womanly sympathy.

“Here,” said wen to himself, “ is womanlis
ness without squeamishness.”

Aloud he still urged an objection.

“ Besides, it might give rise to question. Will
you think of yourself now—and of others? You
have no right to needlessly compromise them.”

But instead of acting on his suggestion, the
girl returned to his side, and gazing down at
him With an odd blending of firmness and shy-
ness, said: .

“ You haven’t told me how badly you are
hurt yet. What can I do for you? Are you
thirsty?”

“ Oh, I am all right,” he assured her. “ There
isn’t a bone broken in my body. There never
was. It has only knocked the breath out of me
a bit. I shall be all right as soon as theyfetch
a horse for me to ride.” ‘

“ Could you ride a horse, if you had one?”

“ To be sure! How absurd! You don’t sup
pose I am made of glass, do out Meanwhile,
you are losing time. They wi 1 be here in a mo-
ment, and catch you. I should be sorry to have
you annoyed because of me.”

“ How far will they have to move you?” asked
the girl, ignoring his anxiety on her account.

“ Oh, I don’t know. A donen miles, maybe.”

“ Where do you live?”

Owen almost caught his breath at this pointed
question. .

What was it that moved him to deceit?

“ I hang out at Cap Adair’s,” he answered,
with an ofl-hand air.

“ Cap Adair’sl”

The girl’s eyes flashed, the color receded from
her face, and she compressed her ii an ly.

“ I’ve heard of him,” she said, in a ow, (lo-u
flant voice.

Owen felicitated himself on his subterfuge, re-
flecting with not a little amusement:

“ Here’s a go! Now I have a chance to real-
ize the poet’s aspiration, and see myself as others
see me. I wonder if I am regarded as such a
terrible fellow." .

To the girl he observed:

“ I hope it wasn’t much
always on hand when pay
and that suits me pretty well.”

“ I wonder at your staying there, all the
same " persisted the girl.

u wb 1 °

“ Why? Hasn’t he, and his father before
him, been bribing Congress to cheat honest set-
tlers out of house and home? Where did they
get the ' ht to fence of! the whole earth so that
pobpydy e shall have a spot for the sole of his

oot

She spoke wrathfully, with heightening color.’

But as suddenly shechecked herself, and went

on:

“ But, that has nothingto do with the present.
The point is, that you cannot so far. It will
injure you after such a fall, w other you think
you are much hurt or not.”

“ But I can’t stay here."

“ You can be taken to our camp. It isn‘t
more than a mile from here. And, once there,
you can have as good care as you’ll get at Cap
Adair’s ranch any da !”

Owen could scarce re rem a smile at tho
spiteful fling at the on of r speec

But a point of curiosity arose in his mind, and
he sou ht its satisfaction at once.

“ 0 will tend me!" U

There was just the quiver of the girl’s e elids
a scarce perceptible catchin of her breat , and
she answered, without allow ng her eyes to drop

inst him. He’s
y comes round,

before his steady gaze:

“ Mother will,” and then she went on a little
hurriedly: .
“ We can make a litter to ca you in, so

that you will not be jarred at all. at it won‘t

do for you to go {citing on horseback. I’ve seen
men hurt before.

“ You are very kind,” persisted Owen. “But
I still think that on are making an altogether
unnecessary sa flee on my account. If it,wers
only yourself, I might be glad to accept it. But,
think of your frien 8.”

He instantly regretted the pointednem of his
commonplace compliment.

The girlde hack almost as if hehad insulted
her—not anger, but with a look of hurt re-

proach.

“ I—I beg your pardon!” he stammered. “ But
I am anxious that you should go before it is too
late. Hark! Ah!

Following the direction of his glance she saw
a woman comin round a point of timber that
had hidden her rem view, while the soft prairie
loam muflled the thud of her horse’s hoofs an
she was close upon them.

“ Heston. before the rest see out” be ex-
claimed. “ I will appeal to this y to has our
secret. But one of the officers from Fort
must be close behind her. Hurry! hurry!”

From a momentary scrutiny of the a
:1; pofrrwoman, the girl turned her eyes again

s ce. '

“I hope yourgrand friends will take better
care of you than we could. We haven’t much,
but you would have been welcome to it, such as
it is. Good-by!”

And turnedshortronnd.nottorun fortha

i

 

4

Captain  the Cattle King.

 

 

 

cover, as he had urged, but to walk away with
. stately dignity.

Owen was charmed with the whole proceeding.
Her resentment was as harmless as that of an
offended kitten. What could be prettier than
this disiilafi of pique?

If he hat seen this alone, he might have thought
it a sign of a weak, ineffectual nature. But the
firmness with which she had offered to shoot the
horse gave him another view of her character.

He called after her:

“ One word, if you pleaser Will you tell me
your name!”

She turned to look at him OVer her shoulder.

There was a momentary pause, in which she
seemed to study his motive, or weight the advis-
ability of compliance.

Then she answered simply:

“ Pearl Pancoast.”

And resuming her deliberate march, she kept
on to the timber, neither looking back at him,
nor deigning so much as a further glance at Ada
Savoy.

Miss Savoy, bewever, as she agproacbed, tool;I
Pearl in from head to foot. S e knew every
curve in her figure, every shade in her hair,
every tint in her cheek.

“ Owen! Mr. Adair!” she cried, breathlessly,
as she dashed up and hung herself from the sad-
dl

e.

“ Don’t be alarmed, Miss Ada,” he returned,
cheerful! . “ I have had a little shaking up,
that is a .” v

“ You have been thrown! Oh! oh!” inur-
mured Ada, kneeling beside him with clasped
handS.

She could only gaze at him helplessly.

“ It is nothing,” he insisted, with just the
faintest possible contraction of the brows.

Was it possible that he was annoyed by her
solicitude

The woman was exceedingly sensitive. She
instantly rose to her feet, the color ebbing still
more markedly from her cheeks.

“ Let me say a word while we are alone,” he

nested.
quick wave of color flashed into the wo-
man’s-cheeks, and she caught her breath.

But before she could bend over him again, his
words checked the impulse to do so.

“ The girl you saw here is undoubtedly from
some boomer’s camp, secreted somewhere about
here. Of course I do not wish their presence to
be discovered through her kindness to me. I
will trust to your sense of delicacy not to men-
tion having seen her. And—”

He glanced toward the timber, and saw Pearl
standing] just within the edge of it, quietly ob-
serving is interview with Ada.

“ If you happen to meet her ever and should
chance to speak of me, would you 0in e me by
calling me Cantwelli—as if I was a roncho-
buster and nothing more, you know. My mid-
dle name is Cantwell. And if discovery should
come out of this I would rather not be known
in the matter. They hate me enou h already.”

“Oh, certain! !” acquiesced Miss voy.

And though s e spoke with perfect politeness
Owen could not help contrasting a subtle thr
of asperity running through her voice with
what he had heard in Pearl's.

Of the two, Miss Savo , in anger, would suc-
ceed in making the sub ect of her displeasure
the more thoroughly uncomfortable.

As if that matter were disposed of, she said:

“ I will get you some Water.”

And she instant] started toward the river,
catching up the ha that Pearl had used for a
like purpose.

“ A woman !” murmured Owen to himself, in
despair. “ How she will knock everything into
a cocked hat!”

He looked to see if Pearl had retreated or
would retreat before the formidable society

lad .

“yBlem her heartl” he said to. himself, lau h-
ing in spite of his annoyance. “ She stands er
mud ike a plucky li tle bantam! I’d like to

r what passes between them.”

CHAPTER III.
ran WRONG lax.

Ir was true that the pioneer belle awaited her
metropolitan rival with very bright eyes and a
determined defiance in every line of that erect
little a re.

If M Savoy had thou ht to overawe her by
assumin the grand role, t e event left her wiser
than be ore.

“ You have laid us all under a debt of grati-
tude. my good girl, b your kindness to Cant-
well,” she began, sail ng up to Pearl with the
loft condescension of a ducbess.

S e was cut short by the prompt answer:

“ I hope%ou won't feel ourself op ,
madam! hat little servos I have bad op-
portunit to offer was to the gentleman him-
self; an Cantwell, as you are pleased to call
him has sumcientiy expressed his appreciation.”

“What an ill-bred person!” ejaculated Mi:
r

 

Savoy, and, drawing herself up to her su
be t, she swept Pearl with a stare from
to 00th:.“ turned scornfuily away.

“ t a forgetful person ” rctorted Pea'rl, in
as nearly the same tone as she could for laugh-
ing. “She appears tohave come for water;

but perhaps she found it too hot for her pur-
86

Then, still loud enough for the retreating
Miss Savoy to hear:

“ I reckon we are quitsl The vanquished re-
,turn in ii! temper, leaving the victorious
jubilant! Her ‘dear girl,’ indeed 1”

And tossing her head with a. fine scorn as Miss
Savoy’s own, she slipped away in the cover
iiiist as Major Br0wning came into sight, fol-
owed at varying distances by the rest of the

arty.

Taking the bank of the river down-stream,
Pearl ran with the fieetness of a fawn till she
reached a point not likely to be visited by any
of those whom she wished to avoid.

Here she crept again to the edge of the tim-
ber, carefully screening herself in the bushes,
from which she peered forth upon the scene on
the open prairie.

She saw the incoming party ther about the
fallen broncho-bu’ster, with w at struck her as
marked attention to one of no higher social
position.

But she knew that men triumph over adverse
circumstances, and make themselves favorites,
in all walks of. life: and her own estimate of
Owen’s natural parts made it easy for her to
suppose that he thus won for himself unusual
consideration.

She realized this fact with a thrill of pride
and gladness; but, even as her heart warmed to
him. it was pierced with a poisoned dart.

Who was this lady who had ridden so hard
after him as to outstrip all the others?

That she was a person of social standing, her
voice and manner indicated.

Then, what was to be made of her extreme
solicitude for a mere broncho-bu’steri

Pearl Pancoast, though only a rustic belle, was
not so entirely free from this world’s ile as to
be ignorant of the fact that women 0 high de-
gree, as the ballads have it are sometimes at-
tracted by men in the humbler walks of life.

“ He guaranteed her silence!" reflected Pearl,
bitterly; “ and she commanded—Hands of! As
if I would touch anything belonging to her,
with a forty-foot pole! ’

The fierce scorn of this finish was very fine
indeed; yet Pearl instantly thereafter burst into
tea

rs.

She looked down at her, simple dress and then
back at Miss Savoy’s elegant riding-habit, till
the fast-coming tears made the offensive city
belle and all of her party a wavering blur on a
field of green.

If she had only know that this wonderful
creation of art, which seemed to her the most
perfect thing possible in the we of dress, was a
commonplace to the broncho- u’ster who had
seen enough tailor-made owns not to dazzled
b them; if she had only nown how the perfect
s mplicit of her dress had charmed him, as
a thing t at was a part of her own bewitching
personality—maybe she would have felt the in-
elqualities of life less keenly than she did just
t en.

As it was, she had the bitterness to see even
her suggestion carried out by others.

The soldiers out two long saplings, and stretch-
ing a blanket between them, made a horse-litter
for Owen to be carried in.

Was he so severely hurt, then! And should
she have no means of knowing how he was
faring?

That favored one might be near him! She
might fan him! She might slip her wrist under
his neck, to lift his head while she held a cooling
drink to his lips!

How he would raise his eyes to her face! In
some moment of gratitude would he tell her
that he loved her? Would be draw her, resist-
in , yet ielding, down! down! with her eyes
he d by h s, till—till—

But by this time Pearl had tortured herself in-
to a paroxysm of sobs.

The one thing she had dreamed of, to flit
across her life path and disappear forever, like
a meteor in the depths of space!

IBig-nded by tears, she turned and fled the
s h

ut before long, when she knew that they
were gone, her feet were drawn back to the spot
where he had lain.

Why had he been so anxious to get rid of her?
So as not to excite the jealousy of the lady he
wished to please?

There was nothing to ustify such a view, yet
she insisted that it was t e true one.

He was gone; she would never see him again;
circumstances would be too strong for her. and
she would sink into the household drudge of—

But at this point in her reflections, as the
image of a rticular one of her admirers rose
before her magiuation, she clinched her little
fist. and vowed that she would rather go down
to the grave a cross and crabbed old maid, in de-
fiance of fate!

A chill touch of air mused her to the fact that
she had lingered near the spot till the sun was

set. ‘
Then she set out hastily to return to the
boomer’s cam which she knew as home. ,
Hurryinga ong the river-hank, she was met by
the very man whose image had stirred her to

 

such wrath not long before.

 

He was a typical borderman. He had out!)
and a. kind of comeliness in his favor. road
shoulders, a deep chest, a rather massive jaw, a
certain air of independence that stopped just
short of a swagger—he was generally held to be
a fine-looking young man by the women of the
camp.

He was smiled upon by the most and least
coquettish of them, whenever he turned from
Pearl Pancoast, to break the monotony of his
attentions to her.

“ Is that you, Pearl?” he asked, hurrying to—
ward her in the gathering twilight. “ I’m
mighty glad to run across you all right. Your
mother was gettin’ anxious about your stayin’ so
long, and so was all of us.”

Pearl had let her sun-bonnet slip off her head,
to hang b the strings at her back. At sight
of Seth endover, she had quickly put it on, so
that in the gathering gloom it hid the expreion
of her face.

“You needn’t have troubled yourself about
me,” she said, ungraciously. “I can generally
find my way home when I get ready."

Seth s face fell. She was in an unusually un-
ap reachable mood. .

e had come out there With a gradually form-
ing purpose to come to an understanding with

I‘.

“As the “hull of the camp,” it was gen-
erally conceded t at Seth had the best right to
take his pick among the marriageable young
women it afforded; and of course nobody woul
think twice between Pearl and any other, who
had the slightest prospect of being able to win

her.

Seth had made this election. with a general
feeling that the matter rested chiefiy with
him. Pearl, he believed —- and everybody
else was of the same opinion—would eventually
“ get into the traces,” as he expressed it, from
the absence of any one worthy to compete With
him.

To be sure, she was a little restive just now.
But what pretty young girl would not enhance
her value by a season of coquetry before she
finally submitted. He had a youn filly that
acted just that way before she won d come to
his outstretched hand.

He knew that her parents were satisfied with
blim, and looked upon the match as virtually set,
t ed.

With Jason Pancoast, his daughter’s admirers
were a stock theme for teasing; and he always

wound up with a smile of proud affection and I

the assurance:

“ Pearl shall please herself. When she picks
out her party, he has my blessin’ in advance.
So go in, boys; an’ the best man win! She’s
Worth a scramble you take my word.”

Every man Jack of them believed that; but
the best of them admitted that Seth had the in-
side track.

Never was there a better chance for coquetry.
if Pearl had cared to pla of! her admirers
a inst one another. But s 6 treated them

th such equality, that it was Seth’s supremacy
in other things, rather than any es ecial favor
she showed him, that game him the ad in this.

Now he fell in beside her without repl ing to
her rebuff, and they proceeded some distance
with dead silence on both sides.

In that gloomy meditation the native obstina-
cy of Seth’s sullen dis ition grew with the con-
viction that his fine success was far from 89'

sured.

He had come out to speak to her, and he grad-
ually yielded to a dogged determination to make
her listen to what he had to say, whether it
pleased her or not.

“ I’Ve got my books on the best bit 0’ land thal5
lays outdoors, between the Canadian an’ “‘9
Cimarron anyway !” hedeclared,abruptl . “ 1‘“

ot the spring, so’s I’ll have water whfie there

any goin’; an’ it won’t be tram into
mud by nobody’s cattle, neither. en 1’"
t meader-land an’ woodland, an’ perairie
hat’ll raise more. grain than on kin stack on it.
When we git things to mov n’, I won’t take 110
back seat for no man in this communit ."

As this announcement seemed to call for 0*
least an expression of sympathy, Pearl 80"
swered:

“ I hope there won’t be any bitch in your 89’"

tin it.”

33m), I’ll git it fast enough!” said Seth, with
much the same air as he would have defied any
one to knocks chip of! his shoulder. “Thar
ain’t men enough in this gover’ment tastst
me ofl when I git sot on it.

“ An’ now what I want to say is, it won’t be
no satisfaction for me to squat on this thing 0“
alone by myself.”

But at this point Pearl hastily interrupted

m.

“ I wouldn’t go into an partnership if I wow
you,” she suggested. “
scheme to form a sort of compan or somet ing.
and work thne land :51 merov git-gadgets; 1:3

e tit. eargu tatoneg seo ‘
pier-92m: could be worked more economically
ban half a dosen poor sets; and that there W”
money in a division of labor. instead of one
in to do half a dozen different things. 3“
I l him that there were he and I and mother-
We had got along well enough so far,

 

ather was talkingbof & ‘

I desperately.

 .-. , 1.4; ., .   _ K  .1..-~,.R-.,‘
heap- . . “gown”  a». as,» V g" , g...

,, ‘ 

 w-v

Captain

Ad

t

'r, the Cattle King. 5

 

ro to stick together as long as we lived.
If 0 had a notion or dairy farmin , I could
manage that. We could have his d vision of
labor among ourselves, as well as by admitting
others to make trouble.”

“ But you won’t be with your father always,”
objected Seth.

“ Why not?” demanded Pearl, looking him in
the eye as directly as if she really wondered
what he could mean.

“You’ll be for gittin’ married one 0’ these
days,” he explained.

The girl shrugged her shoulders with a scorn-
ful laugh.

“ Not to the best man I have ever seen yet !”
she declared. “When Iget ready to be any
man’s drudge, I’ll pick out somebody outside of
Oklahoma!

“Ain’t there as good men in Oklahoma as
outside of it?” demanded Seth, with almost sav-
age artisanshi .

“ a be so,’ assented the girl, carelessly.
“ That ain’t sa ing much for outsiders!”

If a man ha said this, Seth Wendover would
have retorted With a profane challenge to in-
stant combat.

As it was, the implied depreciation goaded
him to smothered rage.

His face turned purple. His breath came
hard. His eyes burned with slumberous fire.

Without appearing to notice him, Pearl saw
this, and congratulated herself on not being in
his power, so that he would have no reason to
curb his tyrannical nature.

While he choked in the effort to retain com-
mand of himself, she went on, with increased
positiveness: ,

“ No! So far I have never seen a man who
could hold a candle to my father!"

There was a slight wavering in her voice as a
picture of Owen Adair flitted before her ima '-
nation: but she did not stOp to modify til
sweeping assertion.

“And I will never give his place toaman
who is not at least as goo-i a man as he.”

“ But it won’t be givin’ bisplaee,” urged Seth,
“A father ain’t a husband 1"

“ But a husband,” insisted Pearl, quicereck-
less as to the consistency of her argument. as-peo-
ple are who care only for the conclusion, and
are determined to have their own way anyhow,
“is a father—at least in some respects. I al-
ways do as my father says; and I mean to
always do as my husband says—if I ever have
one.

“Thar wouldn’t be no quarrel about that,”
said Seth, with something like grim humor, as
he thought of her yielding this implicit obedi-

ence to his will.

‘ “ But I think there would,” objected Pearl.

“Your husband would kick at your doin’ jest
what he wanted you to?” exclaimed Seth,
amazedat this sort of reasoning.

f‘ I think I should be the one to make trouble,”
“1981) etaILhJuieliy. id posed d

u t ou t on sa on re to o
as he wanted Em tg.” y p

Seth felt t at he was getting more and more
entangled in the subtleties of 'her woman’s logic.

“ Exactly," assented the girl. “ But he must
wgpéfig to do as I want to, just as father does.”

Pearl could hardly repress a laugh at the sud-
den drop in Seth’s voice.

There was a dogged draw] in it too, which told
as plainly as words could have done, that, if he
was a rty to that arrangement, there would
be an o tinate contest over the matter.

J‘Now,” pursued Pearl, in a confidential tone
“itch implied that her listener had no personal
interest in the issue, “ I have yet to see a man
With father’s heart, or his good sense, or his
comfortable ways. When I do, if I find that
bein an old maid is such a horrid thingas most
geop e say, ma be I’ll think the matter over.

at until then, have a mitten of Jersey stufi.’
warranted to fit the paw of any man who is fool
enough to ask me for it.”

When we talk at each other, nobody is ever
deceived b the pretense at generality. Seth
knew that shed been deliberately headed off.
He had got his answer in the most unmistakable
terms, yet in a way intended to spare his pride.
Avowedly he had not proposed; openly he had
not been rejected. Yet the matter was settled
for all time. He knew that well enough.

However, there are people who pride them-
gelves on not taking no for an answer, and Seth
wendover was the most mullsh of the lot,

“ I reckon you'll think better 0’ that,” he said,
with a determined setting of all the lines of his
face and a contraction of the eyes that was uglt
in the extreme. “ I've been gittin’ things in
sba‘p; to gmrry you myself—”

‘ on

The girl flashed round at him as if this prepos-
terous suggestion took her wholly unaware;

“ Me i" answered Seth. doggedly. “ You need-
n’t play 03 innocent. You know as well as I do
that it is a settled thing all round.”

“ A what!”

“ The old man is agreeable-J

Seth had gone on steadil , ignoring her inter-
ruption; but she cut him s ort again.

‘ What old man i”

“ Your father—”

 

“ When you speak of m father, I'll thank
you to call him by name! e is no ‘ old man’
to you, nor to ten times your better!”

“ What’s the use 0’ puttin’ on airs about
nothin’?” asked Seth, impatiently. “I call him
old man to his face; an’ I reckon he won’t kick
if I call him it behind his back.”

“ Whether he kicks, as you say, or not, is
nothing to me. When you speak of my father
to me, you will show him the same respect that
I do, or you will find yourself without a
listener l”

If Owen Adair could have heard her now, and
compared .her present tone of displeasure with
that she had used to him, he would have learned
a thing or two about women.

There is one thing, however, to be said in her
favor. Though her voice was decided, it did not
become shrewish. She spoke in the same low
tone that was habitual to her, only with a mark-
ed distinctness of enunciation.

Again, instead of flushing with anger, her
face whitened.

“ Call him what you please,” said Seth, yield-
ing the point. “ What I’m after is the fact that
both your father and your mother air willin’ that
I should have you; an’ nobody else don’t think
no different.”

“ You are mistaken,” replied Pearl, quickly.

“I reckon not,” insisted Seth. “I hain’t ask-
ed either of ’em point-blank; but they’ve as good
as said it was all right, both 0’ ’em.”

“ My father or my mother tell any man that
he might have me, before he asked for me?”
cried the girl, with a stare of indignant repudia-

tion.

“ But that isn’t what I meant,” she went on,
in a changed voiceas if this were not worth a
disclaimer. “ You said that nobody else
thought any different. 1 say, you are mistaken.

person of some consideration in this matter
has views as diflerentas it iswell possible for
them to be.”

“ That means you, I suppose?”

" You’re a mighty good guesser, after you
are told !”

“Then you have give me the Jersey mitten
you was tellin’ about ”

“ You have hunted for it persistently enough
to find it without my troubling myself. ’

“ All the same, I’ve got it?”

“ You are the best judge of that. You have
been talking so at random, that I am puzzled to
know just what you meant.”

“ I’ll put it plain, then.
me?”

H No.”

The answer came with merciless quietness and
directness.

She could not have answered with less feeling,
if he had asked her if she had a pin about her
to give him.

The man stood looking at her with a dull
glare of hatred in his eyes, his face flushing pu r-
ple, and then turnin gray with pallor.

She returned his g ance with perfect calmness.
She was her father’s dau hter; and the Pan-
coasts were not easily cow .

“(gas any 0’ the fellers got the best 0’ me?” he

ask .

“ None of the fellows has the best of you,” she
assured him, with exasperating explicitness.

“ That means, I go out on my own merits,” he
said interpreting her manner.

“ f you will have it,” she answered, “ that
means that you go out, as you put it, on your
own de-inerits.”

“ You hain’t acted so, ’long back,” he persist

Will you marry

“ Haven’t I treated you exactly as I did every-
body else—with common politeness? But may-
be you think that my gamnts and I have man-
aged so that it woul be all right, no matter
who pro ed, when they got round to it?”

“ I rec on I’ve made a fool of myself,” growl-
ed Seth, wincing at the sting of her sarcasm.

“ I don’t pretend to be a judge of such inat-
ters " she answered him.

ithout more urging he turned toward the
01mg, and she contined at his side as if nothing
had a n .

When they came within sight of it, however,
he stopped.

“ I reckon I won’t £0 in with you, if it’s all the
same to you ” he sai .

“ I am oh iged to you for your attendance,”
she answered. “ But, if you will excuse me,
think it will be more agreeable to dispense ith
it in future, when I am alone. Of course I s all
always be prepared to show you the same cour-
tesy that mv other acquaintances receive at my
hands, on a loccasions.”

He regarded her with the same dull stare with
which he had received her unconditional rejec-
tion, and then dropped his eyes in silence to
allow her to pass on.

When we have known people for years, it is
not easy to imagine them developing unexpected
possibilities of evil.

Pearl Pancoast went her way, never dreaming
that she had anythin serious to fear from the
resentment of her sul en lover; instead, she felt
relieved, now that the matter was settled defi-
nitely and forever, as she supposed.

During the lagging davs that fol10wed. while
she was a prey to suspense till she grew pale and

 

hollow-eyed, and‘almost peevish, as nobody had
ever known her before, she had no suspicion
that she was under jealous espionage.

Yet Seth had folIOWed her, and found that she
visited the same spot every day, till, secreted
near, he witnessed a sight which turned hisde
soul into a hell of murderous hatred.

CHAPTER IV.
0N DANGEROUS GROUND.

F03 days our border belle had been eating
her heart out. It was a case of love at first
sight; and it had “ taken ”——as they say of vac-
cination—well.

“ If he does care,” she had said to herself
again and again.

And though she left the conclusion unex-

ressed, her daily visits showed that it was 3.
Relief that Owen would seek her there.

If he could have seen the tremulous anxiety
with which she strained her e es across the
stretch of prairie in the direction whence she
believed he must come, it ought to have been
enough to make a very jubilant lover of him.

And why did she think that he might care,
and so might come?

It was only an interpretation that love’s in-
stinct put u n a certain ex ression in Owen’s
eye as it dwe t upon her that ay.

The little god knews his own reflection, they
sa ; and why, indeed, should he not?

but there were moments of treasonable un-
faith, when she accused herself of folly, and
worse et, of unmaidenliness.

On t is day of days, when. doubt and despair
hung darkest over her, when she told herself
that he was dead or indifferent, she went on
as she had done many a time before, and s
beside the spot where he had fallen.

Scattered about at no great distance were the
bones of his horse, which the carrion birds and
beasts had scraped as clean as ivory.

The thought that they lay like her dead hopes
drove her from the spot; and in a paroxysm of
despair and humiliation she cast herself down
on the bank of the river, where she had first
heard the sound of his approaching horse.

With her face resting upon her knees, she was
shedding the bitterest tears of her life, when she
was electrified by a voice saying:

“ Pearl!"

She did not spring up; but a quiver ran
through her, and then she held her breath.

A step approached, but she did not move.

Some one sat down beside her, but she only
premed her hands harder upon her face.

An arm went around her waist, a hand was
slipped under her wrists. and she was gently
lifted and turned round till her face, still cov-
ered by her hands, rested hard against the breast
of him who had come to her—at last.

He said not a word, but fell to stroking her
hair. tolifting it and letting it ripple through
his fin ers, to kissing it as the Wind blew it
acrom 's face.

And all the while she could feel him chuckling
soft! , in silent self-gratulation.

en he went further than this, bendin to
touch his cheek to hers and feel it burn like re,
she suddenly forced herself away from him to
the greatest limit his clinging-arm would per-
mit, with her two hands on his shoulders.

And facing him with eyes that flashed as her
cheeks flamed crimson, she cried:

“ But you don’t! You know you don’t!”

d “”But I do!” he contradicted. “ I know I

o! t

“ You know nothing about me—absolutely
lq<f>th§ngi You never saw me before in your
' e!

“ I know ever so much about yon—more than
you know about me. I have been watching you
when you hadn’t a like advantage. As for see-
ing you before. I have seen you once, on know;
and once seeing is enough. I’ll ta 0 you on
trust!”

With an emtatic cry, she threw her arms
about his neck. ,
“ I’ll take you on trust !” she answered him.

And this was the treat that eavesdropping
Seth was favored with.

She was very much ashamed of her easy sur-
render,'and it required a stru leto get her face
away from Owen's neck wh re she had hidden
it, and hold it between his .palms, so that she
could not evade his devouring gaze.

Even then she put her hand over his month,
while she demanded point-blank:

“ Who nursed you?”

As the significance of this transparent chal-
lenge burst upon him, Owen went 08 in a roar
of aughter. .

She shook him, and called him a horrid thing,
and declared that she hated him, but in a way
not calculated to break his heart.

When he could control himself he asked:

“ Who do you think? The most devoted crea-
ture in the world! Would you believe it, she
never left my bedside for a mo—”

“ Let me go! Let me go! Oh, you wreteht
I’ll never speak to ou again—never! never!” I

“ Never! never he took the words from he
lips. “I will never let you go till you have
guessed. Who do you think? You will love

er, I know, for her constancy to me in my suf~
fering.” '

 

 

 

6

 

 

Captain Adair, the CattleflKing.

 

 

“ I'll hate her all my life!
thin l”

“ old on! I won’t have you talk so about
one who is so fond of me, and whom I—”

“Go to her, then! I wish you all the good of
her! But you sha’n’t have me, too !”

“But I will! I have yet to see a little wild-
cat ,of this description that can get away from
me.

“No doubt you have struggled with enough
of them to prove your brutal strength i”

“ Never anything like this before. What a
contrast with my gentle—”

“ Oh! oh! I hate her—and you!”

“ And I love her—and you i”

“ You ought to be ashamed of yourself to—
to_n

She was sobbing.

“ Little Pearl, haven’t you guessed i” he asked,
surprised at her continued misapprehension.

“ There is nothing to guess,” she sobbed, now
resting helplessly quiescent in his embrace. “ I
knew the minute I set eyes on her. She claimed
you—the horrid thing! And you needn’t have
told me, if it was so.

“ Needu’t have told you that you have not
been away from me—”

“ I haven’t been near you !” she cried, sharply,
com rehending him at last.

“ flat I saw you, dear,” he insisted. “ I had
[a tog’close my eyes, and there you stood, as
P n—'

But her arms were about his neck again, and
his speech obstructed.

And while Owen chuckled with huge satisfac-
tion, Seth Wendover ground his teeth till they
almost Splintered.

What should he do? Stand there and watch
this proceeding! But to what end? For the
sole purpose of self-torture?

It did not take Seth Wendover long to arrivo
at the conclusion that he could put his discovery
to better use than that.

To begin with, he had the advantage of Pearl
in knowing who her lover was. On the other
hand, he fell into the natural mistake, under the
circumstances, of supposing that Owen had
been making secret love to her for some time.

This Lt once suggested the thought that these
clandestine meetings were not for the girl’s real

“ A man who meant honestly by her would
come out an’ show himself,” be reflected.

Suppose, then, he should take her vindication
upon himself?

He could make a very pretty case out of it.

To protect the girl for whom every one was
willing to do bottle from the villainy of a rich
man whom every one hated, he had let his
righteous indignation him to the point of

,mur— But he thought 0 a better name for it
than that. He called it just vengeance.

He knew very well that, in the existing state
of feeling, it would not be difficult to play upon
the rejudices of the boomers so that they would
he! him in a rather heroic light than otherwise.

There was one thing, however, to be con-
sidered.

If Pearl came out against him, declaring that
he had murdered her prospective husband from
motives of jealousy. it would at least divide
£1):ch sentiment, so that there would be enough

betray him into the hands of the law even if
a Vigilance Committee was not organised against

him.

“ But if I’m fool enough to git caught, I ought
to l” he said to himself, with a dog ed set-
ting 0 his massive jaws. “ I’ll lay fur h m; an’
the coyotes will take care of what I leave.”

Meanwhile, our lover, though his conquest
was complete enou h, had some details tosetr
tie before the artic es of agreement were ready
to ht? signed and sealed by one of the contracting
par es.

“I suppose,” said Pearl, with a ret t,
“ that she is just breaking her neck afgrwgu.
Do 1y;ou offer her any encouragement! .Look me
in t e eye, sir!”

“ My dear,” protested Owen, with affected
embarrassment, “ have you no mercy on my
natural modestyi You surely do not expect
me to say that a lad is ‘just breaking her neck
afltfeg,me’—that is say, any lady except your-
Is

She shook him.

“ You are tryin to evade me! But you can‘t
do it that way. am Willing to admit that I
have made a fool of myself. But, I just as
funkly declare that I am not a bit sorry, and
that I intend to continue to do it. Answer my
question! I insist!” ‘

“ Will you compel me to make a fool of my-
self, hy solemnly a-urin you t a lady is
not ‘ ’ust breakin her use after moi" ”

“ e'll waive t t. I don’t care what she is
doing. The question of importanoeis what you
have been domg."

“ I think I may honestly say,” answered Owen.
with a mock effort at seriousness, “that I have
never, by word or deed, save, perhaps. by an
occasional polite smile, and b now and then
Such a compliment as every y knows has no
meanio -

What right have you to compliment a lady

Mi
like that!" . \
demand came so short and sharp that

Oh, the brazen I

 

tsrrihlefeilowi”

Owen gave an involuntary start of <1)!‘pi‘i§6. He
had not quite fitted himself to the role he was
playing, and to all that it would naturally in-
volve.

It required a second thought before he realized
just what Pearl meant.

She did not leave him to think the matter out
by himself.

“ You know Very well,” she said, “ that she
would never dream of marrying you. Then she
ought to keep her place, and let you alone. And
you have no business to be paying her compli-
ments, whether they are supposed to mean any
thing or not.”

“ If I go wrong in the future, at any rate, it
won’t be for the want of a very exacting moni-
tress,” laughed Owen.

“ You sha’n’t call me jealous!” insisted Pearl.
“ I am not i”

“ What do you call it?” asked Owen, gravely.

She looked at him in momentary hesitation.
Then, putting both hands upon his breast, and
so pressing a ainst him, as i to hold his atten-
tion, she fldi ressed him with the serious air of
one who had taken him in charge, for his own
good; of all her bewitching moods, the one he
thus far found most captivating.

“ You naughty boy—"

But here she broke off and with a quick open-
ing of the eyes, and a qush accompanying her
low laugh, asked:

“ By the way, what shall I call you? To think,
that 1 don’t even know your name yet!”

“ Oh! ah! yes, certainly,” stammered Owen—
“ah—Cantwell, you know. I thought Miss—”

“ Never mind miss .’” she interrupted, with a
quick knitting of her browa “ If you please, we
will drop her out of our conversation, after I
have said what I wish to about her.”

“ With the greatest pleasure in life,” amented
Owen, glad to et away from that other awk-
ward matter—his name.

But he was not out of the woods yet.

“ But you don’t expect me to call on Mr.
Cantweil like an intolerable New ngland
woman I used to know? I want a name that
will bring me nearer to you than that. Every-
body has a right to use it. Haven’t youa given
name! I hope you have two, so that I can take
my choice.”

“ Thank Heaven I have one other,” anwered
Owen, with what he flattered himself was a very
deep and dark equivoke in his words, “ since you
are prejudiced against Cantwell.”

“ Out with it! If it don’t suit me—I warn you
in advance—I shall change it!”

“Like coflee, you can sugar to your taste,”
lau hed Owen.
un er a name that is displeasing to you, I shall
feel sorry. It is Owen.”

“ Ugh!” she ejaculated, starting back from

m.

“ Now it’s done!” exclaimed Owen to himself.
“ If I don’t handle her just right, I shall lose her.
But I should like to see her get away from me!”

Of course he meant that he shou dn’t like to
see her get away.

" l heavens!” he exclaimed. “ What’s the
matter? Won’t Owen do?”

He spoke very innocently, and took some
cil‘eteiiit to himself for skill in acting when she re-

i :

p “ Owen himself will always do; but the name
—I just hate it!”

“ Oh, m dear!” still with wondering inno-
cence. “ ut why! You ought to have heard
mylmother pronounce it!” .

is voice dropped with tender recollection,
and the truest part of him came out as he went
on:

“ It was the sweetest name I ever heard, as it
fell from her lips. I have often wondered if it
would sound the same from the lips of my wife.”

That was his master-stroke. His tones did
the business. They had a rin of unmistakable
honesty as he s ke of his mot er.

The girl sud enly threw her arms about his
neck with a bur-it of tears. '

“ It shall! it shall 1” she assured him. “ Even
your mother did not love you more than I do,
and alwavs shall! Oh! believe that, Owen!
And I will forget that it is the name of that
villain too.”

“ Of what villain?” asked Adair, now playing
his part boldly.

“Of that precious Cap Adair of yours!” she
replied with a fling of sarcasm that nearly com
vulsed er listener.

Then, very decidedly, she went on:

“ You must throw up your job.”

“ Of broncho-bu’sting ”

It Ya.”

“ But—” '

“ I won’t have any buts nor ands. I want to
get that fellow out of my mind. It is bad

enough for him to be the scoundrel he is; but I
shall never forgive him for having your name.”

“ How can you judge him so harshly! Do
you know him!”

“ Know him! Well, if I did, I shouldn’t
know how to purify myself!”

“Ob, Pearl W y. my dear!”

“ I hate him, Itell you. I know enough about
him without knowing him personally.”

“ But, do you thin that he looks like such a

\
i

z»,

‘ But if I have gone all my life -

 

“ How should I know how he looks? I thank
my stars I have never seen him; and I would
shut my eyes so as not to see him, if I knew he
was about.”

Owen was at a stand.

“ But this is blind prejudice,” he protested,
feeblv.

“Then,” she said, “ you won't quit him, even
if I ask you to?”

It occurred to Owen that here was a chance
which would not often present itself, to test the
temper of the girl to whom he had so abruptly
engaged himself.

“ Is it to be a square issue between you?” he
asked. “ Must I give up one or the other?”

She looked at him steadily, her gaze shifting

from one of his eyes to the other, as we do when
we strive to gaze into the innermost: soul of one
whom, after all, we can read only by outward
31 us.
a 03” she answered, in a hushed voice, slow-
! shaking her head. “ Nothing that on could
(K) or refuse to do would make me ta e such a
stand as that. Only it would hurt me to know
that you held my wishes so lightly, even if they
seemed unreasonable to you.”

He drew her close.

“ And do on suppose,” he asked, “ that I
would not give up all the world at your bid-
din ?”

T en she smded brightly.

“ You were only doing it to try me—weren’t
on?” she asked. ” I ought to have known that!
ut then, on know, our acquaintance is of such

short stam ing!”

She was laughing and hiding her flushed face
in his breast.

With a quick transition of feeling that charm-
ed him, she returned her former playful
m

00d.

“ That matter disposed of, we can go back to
our lesson in deportment.”

“ Our what?” asked Owen, who did not follow

er.

“I was interrupted in my disposal of miss,”
she said, archly.

” Oh, yes! had quite forgotten her.”

“ I am glad to see that she passes out of your
recollection so easdy. But, to prepare you for
any chance meeting with her in the future, I
purpose to favor you with my ideas on the sub-
‘ect of ladies and their relations to broncho-

n'sters!”

“ They are sure to be charming ideas, what-
ever they are; and I indorse them in advance."

“ Wait until you hear them. You as cod as
said that I was of a jealous disposition, cause
I objected to your 1payinlg compliments to this
particular miss] ow maintain that I am
not. The point is, that, not being on her lane
in society, whatever your personal mer ts, a
compliment from you to her is a liberty which
she ought not to permit, and you ought not to
venture upon.”

7 Owen almost let his jaw drop in his astonish-
ment at this view of his pesition.

But he was devoured with curiosity to get at
the thoughts and feelings of the girl who was to
11:9 his wife, and about whom as yet he knew so

tt e.

“ But ‘you are as fine a lady as she,” be pro-
tested. ‘Is it wrong for me to pay you com-
plimentsf”

“ The case is uite different,” answered Pearl,
not at all distnr by the dilemma he thought
he had placed her in. “I may be quite as ex-
cellent aperson "—and she smoothed her dress as
a bird mlfiht have preened its feathers—“ as this
conde ing miss. I he I have a bettefiv
temper than she displayed t e other dag. But.
she added, as if weighing the matter onestly,
“ I don’t know. I fancy I gave her about as
good as she sent.”

“ Tell me about it!” cried Owen, laying siege
to Pearl with delighted eagerness.

But she shook her head. -

“We have secrets as well as you. Do you
tell us about your 6 but DO not try to spy out
more of our unlove iness than is forced upon
your attention. _

“ Let us return to the paint. Social position
has nothing to do with personal qualities. If a
king were to disguise himself as one of his own
huntsmen, and a lady of his court, supposing
him to be a real huntsman. and so, of course, a

at, were to permit the liberty of scam-
pliment from him, because he he pened to be a
charming fellow like you. it won! beall wrong;
though the king, in his pro r person. mi ht

y 'the same compliment to t e same lady w th-
out impropriety.”

“ But suppose this king of yours—you see, if I
should ever happen to be a king, I want to know
how to act becomingly—were to meet in the
forest the loveliest of al lovely maids. sweeter a
hundredfold than the mart noble lad of his
court—in short, a charmin creature, l ke you,"
laughed Owen, as he mim cked her designation
air fun, “ and were to pay a compliment to

“ It would be an insu unworthy of him, and
which she should never orgive, were he a thou-
sand times a kin l”
hi:What'l 1%: onsstly iiiéendegogo make hi:

queen c was t— in hetua—w
maria-d the beggar maid! Whereas my (inlaid.

I .
I ‘ ‘ s L .1 '
. ., i y a“. ‘3‘», .

 

i

    
  
    
   
       

 

,1; .. .. .

"e. .V  ,v I ~  r,  3 

Captain Adair, the Cattle

H}. _w,' w. 'v

 _"“n- g. 

.rw

King. '7

 

would not be a beggar by any means, but a lady '

of education and refinement. Oh, I wouldn’t have
anything but the finest roaming about in my
forest!”

Owen was treading on slippery ground; but
his manner disarmed suspicion.

“ That might make a diflerence,” conceded
Pearl. “ But kings don’t go wandering about in
forests in quest of unknown maidens in our day.
So, if you will look to the one case that is likely
to occur, we will say no more about it.”

So it was settled between them; and gazing
serenely into each other’s eyes, the?, had no sus-
picion of what was going on fair y within the
sound of their voices.

Hanging with quivering fury upon their every
word and gesture, Seth “’endover felt a grip on
his arm, and heard a voice hissing into his ear:

“ So! You are a man, yet you will endure
this!

Turning with a violent start, he stared into
a?) vigiitest face, the fiercest eyes, he had ever

8 s

 

CHAPTER V.
axcxnnssnnss—anuoass.

WHAT was it in Owen’s voice or manner that
attracted Ada Savoy’s attention to Pearl Pan-
coast? Was it the coldness with which he re-
pelled her solicitude!

The taking of the hat for water was, of coursa,
a woman’s subterfuge. What Ada was after
was a sight of a ible rival.

She ot it; an one glance was sufficient.

Pear ’s beauty was enough 0f itself to make
the lady feel that she must look to her laurels.
Her readiness of tongue and her evident ill-will
added very uncomfortable suspicions.

“ He is deceiving me!” said Ads to herself.
“ This is not the first time he has met with this
rustic Jezebel. His interest is in her personally,
and is not a mere question of generosity.”

And now the subtlety of the woman appeared.

Instead of returning to Owen with haughty re-
sentment, she composed her face to tender solici-
tude, and her voice was so sweetly regretful that
he was completely taken in by it. .

How thoughtful she was of his comfort. She
would not hear of his being taken home. The
Fort was nearer; and her suggestion was that he
remain where he was till an ambulance could be
brought. ,

It was only because she did not know of a
hone-litter that this plan of Mayor Browning’s
was substituted for hers.

So Owen was taken to Fort Reno: and though
the roprieties would not admit of Ada’s volun-
tee ng as his nurse, she was faithful in her in-
quiries after him, and sent him flowers, and even
made him little dainties to eat.

When in the course of two or three days he
was about again, lookingl pale, and with just
enough Ian uor to lend e egance to his move-
ments, not ng could be more winning than
Ada’s atttendance upon him.

She read to him, Ifor him, got whatever
he could not reach ban ly.

“Don’t baby me!” he protested

atent lover would have amumed,

the tone a
psi-{papa ‘You make me ashamed of myself.
at I want is a horse and elbow-room.”

“ I want you to promise me not to ride that
sort of a horse again,” said Ada, looking at him
shyly, from under drooping eyelashes.

‘ Oh, that is absurd! was his protest. “My
only rat is that that splendid fellow had to be
shot. sha’n’t rest easy till I find another, his
match for deviltry, or his better at it, just to
prove that there nevar was a horse that any de-
cent man couldu’t conquer if he tried.”

As if restive under her solicitudo, be disposed
of the army surgeon’s recommendation to quiet
with a fling of his hand, and securing a. mount,
rode to his own home. .

It mi ht have been the climate; it might have
been ha original constitution; at any rate he
carried ed this revolt against authority with
a parent impunity. At the end of a week be de-
c ared himse f ready for another bout with the

, not quite in

‘ best broncho that ever bunched his back.

Meanwhile he was not idle. Again and in
did he ride to the scene of his adventure, to cop
out of sight, howaver, and watch the girl who
re ired so religiously to the spot.

hen it became apparent that she was look-
ing for him, his heart throhbed‘, his face glowed,
his eyes gleamed with the sweetest poison that
is avg: dlistilled iqtohthe gains.
e oves me ’ e cr exultantl . “ She’s
as'll‘ililsrd hit  I am, I do believe!” y
en. 00 as secure. as rha no ver ever
on ht to, he toyed with hiya-might ‘0
e ke t her waiting, till day after day the
anxious ht in her e es deepened, and with‘a
hundred l ttle bursts o indignation and drspair
she betrayed the passion that was gnawing at
be}; Jill a meal ”
eepen the imp on, was his -
fication of this proceeding. “ I’ll never ‘9 3? a
tear to her eyes after I ones get her. The little

minxl—to think that she should love me so!”
Perhaps it was by no particular!
inflation that Ada Savoy also re

subtle
to this

Owen left her to eat her heart out in solitary
neglect. If he had not declared himself, at
least he had been particularly attentive till now.
He had found plenty of excuses for riding over
to the Fort.

But now the (la 5 passed, and be neither came
nor sent word of is condition.

Then the woman roused herself to possibilities
of which even she had never dreamed. Till now
she had floated with the stream, everything
of life coming to her hand. But now the
desire of her heart threatened to be lost to her
unless she had the courge and address to snatch
it from the reluctant hand of fate.

She who had feared Indians, now feared noth-
ing! Alone she rode away, no one knew
whither. She was plainly annoyed at Major
Browning’s expostulation,

“ Every soldier in the Fort is at your com-
mand, Miss Ada,” he said. “If we, our
friends, are no longer amusing, you can ave
attendance that Will not interfere with your
solitude any more than so many ms.”

“ You know I like my own way better than
anything else, Major Browning,” she answered,
with an ai‘fectation of archness which had the
lie given it by her employment of his formal
title.

“ How have I been so unfortunate as to offend
you?” he asked, between banter and serious-

ness.

“ To oflend me?” she repeated, lifting her
brows.

“ You seem to have forgotten my name.”

“ Nonsense, Rex!”—conceding so much.

“ That’s better. But how about the Indians?”

“ I have become convinced of my folly.
Haven‘t we talked enough about—nothin i”

Ethel, who could see further into a mil -stone,
of this sort, at any rate, than her brother, of-
fered no open opposition.

So this woman carried the bitterness of her
heart to the spot where its gall would be thrice
envenomed.

She too witnessed this meetin
addition the discovery of Seth
appomtment and hatred.

Did the savage hatred of the man fan here in-
to hotter flame! Did the expression on his face
suggest thoughts that otherwise might not have
come to her!

What prompted her to creep up upon him with
that fierce clutch and the breathing of that sav-
age challenge into his ear!

At any rate the mischief was done. He
turned, and the two looked into each other’s

e es. .
y“ Who be you?” asked Seth, in a muflled
voice..

and made in
endover’s dis-

“ Never mind who I am,” she retorted. “ The
question is: t are on!”

“ What do on think be?” '

“ A cowa !”

The jibe came likg a flash of lightnin .

Seth winced as stung, and his sa low face
turned livid.

“ What’s the reason I’m a coward!”

“ Because you talk when it is time to act.”

“ What kin I do about it?”

“ Bah! Are you a man; and do you ask me!
I would give half my life to be in your place.”

“ No you wouldn’t! You’d give half your life
to be out of it.”

“ Dare you risk the whole of yours to t out
of it! W at do you want of the miserab e rem-
nant that is left you! Your face tells its own

stor .”

“ You’re jud in? me by ourself, I reckon.”

“ If I were, should be ieve you equal to the
occasion, and leave you without a word. As it
is— Bah! I shall have to seek a better man
than you, or take the matter into my own
hands.”

“ You leave it to me,” said Seth, with sudden
resolve. ” I reckon I don‘t never take no points
0! o’ no woman.”

" Very well, then. See that you act promptly
and decisively. But let me make one sugges-
tion. If you get into trouble, and you want an
ally, g0 teColbnel Flood. Through him you can
get powerful support, if you make it worth
their while.”

She gazed straight into Seth’s eyes, and saw
that he understood her, at least in part.

He seemed equally surprised and shocked that
such a recommendation should come from her.

“ You ain’t gone on him, than!” he observed.

With something likea snarl of fury she turned
away without a word.

“ Waal, I’m glad you ain‘t down on me !”
muttered Seth. “ Ef you was a man, you’d be
a corker.”

What was there in his last audible words that
so stung the girl to the heart!

‘ “ You ain‘t down on him, then?” he had said;
and clutchin her hands as if she could have
torn him wit her nails for the suggestion, she
fairly rushed from his presence.

Her horse was secreted at some little distance.
Mounting him, she rode away, at first cautious-
1y, but as she gained the security of distance,
with the wild abandon of a mad creature.

If she had been seen by an one in that head-
lon flight from the dev is o hatred and despair
the haunted her, they must have thought her

 

distracted.

   

 

Now furious tears rained from her eyes, only
to be dashed contemptuously asuie, and to be
burnt up by the fires of hatred.

“ Down on him!” she repeated. “ Oh, that I
might tear him—and her! Will that lout have
the courage and address to end it all?”

But, there were moments when love conquered,
when she drew up her horse and hung between
going on and leaving matters to their course,
and going back to warn Owen of his peril.

“A black-brewed villain !” she reflected, re-
calling Seth's sc0wl. “He will have no pity.
He will kill him without warning. And 1—]
shall have set him on 1”

At last the pain and terror of this thought
became unendurable.

Turning back, she headed her horse directly
for the spot where she had left the lovers.

“ I will cast myself at his feet. I Will confess
all. If that does not touch him, I will 0 away
and die. What matters humiliation? 8] would
rather he despise me than forget me entirely.”

The further she rode, the fiercer became her
anxiety to reach Owen before it was too late.

“ Oh! I was mad! mad !”shc cried, reflectin on
the time that had elapsed since she had lef‘: th
hanging likea wolf on Owen’s trail. “ What

me! It is as bad as if 1 were to kill

im with my own hand. And I love him! I
love him!”

No longer regarding discovery, even by the
girl she hated, she dashed up to the spot, only to

nd it abandoned.

“ Thev are gone! Where? He has followed
him! He may have overtaken him before this
time!”

She shuddered with horror at the thought.

Then lifting her voice in a wild appeal, she
shouted:

“Owen! Owen! Owen!”

She-had heard of people being tracked by the
trail they left, and she tried to find some trace
of the direction Owen had gone. But this effort
was soon abandoned. The ground had been
traversed in every direction, and she could not
distinguish the footprints of wild beasts from
those which might have been made by a ho se
broken to the use of man.

Even the thought of finding the boomer’s
camp, and warning Pearl, flashed through her
distracted brain. But that depth of humili-
ation was too much for her woman’s ride.

“ I will follow him. He must ave gone
home.”

With this resolve she set out to retrace the
course she had ridden after the broncho.

But, suppose the murderer was before her?

up he overtook his victim and accom-
plished his bloody mission—Abe. work she had
set him l—before she can intervene?

No 10 r thinking 0 self, she cried out the
name of t e man she oved; she fired her revol-
ver—anything, to frighten the murderer for the
time from his prey; but all was ineffectual. She
reached the vicinity of Owen’s ranch without
having overtaken him.

“ I have primed him. He was dead 1” she cried,
read to cast herself on the ground, to writhe in
her iring remorse.

Shou she make inquiry at the ranch? But
her woman’s instinctive reserve saved her from
this humiliation.

The day was advancing. She would have
barely time to reach the Fort in time to escape
being the occasion of a scene.

It would not do to have attention called to her
absence by having a rescuing party sent out to
look for her.

That ride home was the most terrible of her

life.

With a lea of headache from over-exhaustion
she reti to her room, even denying admission
to Ethel Brownin .

All that night e tossed on a bed of torture.
When at last exhausted nature succumbed, it
was only to rsue her with visions of horror.

She saw wen riding away with the absent
smile of a happ lover, ounging in the saddle,
and paying no eed .to the course of his horse.

She saw the murderer following. She saw the
working of his features. Even to his hatred
murder was not easy. But in a paroxysni of
madness he drew his revolver.

What was it that Oppressed her so that she
could not move a muscle in defenSe of the man
whose life now seemed to her the one thing do.
sire his in the world!

She struggled to cry out; but her voice was
on“: rssp ng his.

ihen cadme the flash, the report, a cry of an-
s , an —
g“The tortured girl leaped upri ht in bed, to
cower, dripping with sweat and vering with
a cold that came from within.

No force short of physical coercion could have
kept her from the spot where now her whole
soul centered.

Heedless of Ethel‘s anxious looks and of Major
Brown‘s constrained politeness, she rode away.

The utter desolation of the tr sting- lace,
when she reached it, struck a chill her cart.

Pearl did not arrive at her usual hour.

To quiet her agitation Ada leaned her head I

against the trunk of a tree and closed her aching
eyes

.. _-.'. 4., , . - .'_.
.. i- '\\>',‘_?§"fi‘g _: -, :.,4s

The quiet, the warmth, the drowsy hum of a”

 

 

{forced to protect himse f by immediately after-

8 ’ Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

 

 

bee, soothed her, and insensiny she yielded to
exhaustion, and sunk into the first dreamless
else she had enjoyed for many a day.

as it a footstep that roused her into sud-
den and complete wakefulness?

She was conscious that some one was near her;
but the sun flashed in her eyes, and involun-
taril y she closed them, pressing her hands upon
them.

Who could it be? Could it be bet—the one of
all men she longed to see alive and well?

A quick breath, a thrill between delight and
terror, and then—

“ Good heavens!”

CHAPTER VI.

POISONING THE CUP.

SEIK Colonel Flood! That suggestion rung
in Seth Wendover’s ears with the fascinating
persistence of an evil genius.

But his native independence fought against it
with dogged obstinacy.

 

“ What fur should I go a~beggin’ Colonel
Flood, or ary other man, to back me? I kin ;
hoe my own row, an’ a heap o’ resk saved. What '
nobody don’t see, nobody can’t give away. I’ll .
salt the snoozer fur all he’s worth!”

With many a lingering pledge of undying I
constancy, Owen at last tore himself away rom
his Pearl.

As if she could not bear to part with him, she
insisted on seeing him on his way; and he would
have been less the lover than he was, if he had
not returned the compliment by going back
with her; so that, with gay laughter at their l
sentimental folly, they finally parted on the
spot which left neither the other’s debtor in this
manifestation of fondness.

If they had planned to exasperate the eaves-
dropper, they could not have fanned his rag'e in-
to flercer flame.

Raging like a. madman he raced along the
watercourse, to gain a point of timber which
jutted out into the prairie, near which Owen
must ass on his way home.

He “new the spot well. Even if Pearl linger-
ed tesee the very last of her lover, he would
pass from view around the woodland promon-
tory before he reached Seth’s ambuscade.

At that distance a pistol-re ort could not be
heard; and so all won (1 be as e.

He gained the point sufficiently in advance,
and peered forth to watch for the coming of his
vkfim.

As Ada afterward pictured him in her dream,
Owen came leisurely along, his bridle-rein hang-
ing loose on his horse’s neck, a dreamy smile of
happy reverie on his lips and his eyes noting
nothing of the emerald and blue panorama that
moved across their field.

Lying flat on the ground, the murderer cocked
his revolver, and held it at a deadly rest.

“ Now good-by to ye!” he muttered. “ I reckon
the goyotes won’t leave much to tell tales ag’in’
me!

Holding his breath that his aim might not be
deflected a hair’s breadth, he‘ sighted along the
barrel of the weapon, bringing it to bear direct-
ly upon the unconscious lover’s heart.

But at that moment he was arrested in his
murderous design by the sound of a hasty step
approaching him behind.

Death an’ blazes!” he muttered, hastily se-
creting his revolver, that he might not be taken
in the very act of assassination.

He knew instinctively, even before turning his
head, whose stepit was. If he rslsted, the man
he hated was inevitabl his; at he would he

ward taking the life of one against whom he was
not yet ready to turn a murderous hand, what-
ever might be the outcome of the future.

With hurried panting and the swish of her
skirts through the undergrowth Pearl Pancoast
flashed by without discoverln him.

“ Owen! Owen!” she calleit

And radiant With smiles she sprung from the
court and stood in his path.

She had taken the same path that Seth had
followed to intercept her lover, but with how
different a. purpose!

0 “ Pearl! What in the name of wonder!" cried
wen.

He leaped to the ground and caught her in his
arms; and pantin with her rapid run, she hung
in his embrace while she recovered herself.

“ I on! came to tell you,” she said. looking up
into his ace with the laughing love-light in her-
eyes, “ that, when I come to repeat it over to
myself, your name sounds just lovely. I would
not have it anything else for the world.”

“ Nonsense !” cried Owen, fain to cover his de-
light With mock incredulity. “ You didn’t
come for any such reason. That is only an ex-
cuse for something else.” '

Yet Pearl was well content with his interpre-
tation of her motives, and with his way of
gratifying them; and little dreaming that her

yful fondness had saved his life, she allowed

im to lift herto his saddle. and then walk beside
her. while he warned her that this was the very
last time he would take her back, and if she fol-
lowed him again, he would carry her ed for

o

 

flamed, Seth Wendover dropped his face flat

on the ground, and so lay, clutching the grass

with his fingers, and breathing heavily, like a
man struggling with a possessing demon.

Even when the lovecadences of their voices
no longer tortured his ears, he could not look
after them.

Wrestling with his mighty assion, he lay
motionless till the waning day iglit left him in
darkness.

Returning, Owen Adair had passed too far
out on the prairie to be attacked without warn-
ing that would have made it a fair fight between
them.

“ That ain’t the way to git after him,” was

Seth’s final decision. “I reckon it’s lucky she
stopped me. Whether anybody else suspicioned
me or not, she’d always believe I done it. I
must strike him without gittin’ the recoil o’ the
blow myself.”

So, casting about for some means of effective
revenge, he made his way to the boomer’s camp.

“ I’ve got it! I’ve got it!” he cried at last.

“ I’ll fix himl—I will so!"

And, his pulses leaping with malicious satis-
faction, he at once sought Jason Pancoast.

The leader of the invaders was a born master
of men. He stood full six feet in his stockings,
and had a depth of chest and breadth of shoul-
ders in proportion. J eve-like locks and beard
fell upon his shoulders and lay upon his breast.
Though they were streaked with ray, his pierc-
ilng black eyes had lost none 0 their pristine

re.

“ Waal, Seth,” was his hearty salute, “ what’s
the row with you, that makes you so down in
the mouth?”

“ Matter enough,” replied Wendover. “ But
suppose we step aside fur a bit. What I’ve got
to 3:; to you ain’t fur everybody’s ears."

“ hat you’ve got to say to me? What any-
body’s got to say to me kin be said in open
meetin’, as fur as I’m consarned. That’s me,
Jason Pancoast, every time!”

“ Pon’t shout so loud till you’ve hyeared me
out.

“ Oh, waal, if it’s any accommodation to you.”

And, with a careless wave of the hand, Pan-
coast followed Seth out of earshot of any chance
listener.

“ Now, out with it!”

“ Do you reckon as I’m your solid friend, Jase
Pancoast?”

“ I’ve always allowed as you be.”

“ You kin tie to it.”

“ I always have, so fur.”

“ Waal, then, ou’ll take what I’ve got to say
now qgiet, I rec on, as from one friend to an-
othe .

“ What’s the use 0’ somuch hedgin’? I reckon
you’ve got somethin’ disagreeable on yer mind.
Out ,with it! I’ll take what suits me, an’ let the
rest alone.” ‘

“Thar won’t none of it suit you; but it ’1]
stand youin hand to take it all, jest the same.”

“ Spit it out, man—spit it out!”

“ Do you know where Pearl goes ever day?”

“ Eli? What? What’s the row with earl?”

“Do you know whar she goes every day, I

“ I reckon she goes whar it suits her, as she’s
always free to."

“ What suits her might not suit you.”

“ Thar’s whar you’re wrong. hat suit her
is bound to suit me. She’s had her swing this
many a day' an’ she swings as true as an eight-
day clock. leave it to you yourself.”

“ I ain’t flndin’ no fault with her when she
ain’t bamboozled.”

“ Bamboozled! What in Cain be you gittin’
through ye, Seth Wendover?”

“ Suppose,” said Seth, slowly, “ she was seek-
in’ company what you’d druther see her nestin’
with rattlers than to have part or lot with?"

“ Compang blazes!” roared Pancoast be-
gnning to ame with wrath. “ Look a-liyar,

th! be you drunk, or—”

But here the boomer captain checked himself,
and the li ht of anger giving place to a merry
twinkle in in eyes, he resumed:

“ Company? hat sort 0’ company!”
Then e suddenly burst intoaroar of bois-
terous laughter.

“Waal, dang my buttons, Seth Wendover,
I’m blowed of I don’t b’!ieve you’ve lost your
grip! I did ’low as you always calcalatedto

oe er on: row; but last my dirt hide—”

“ old on!” interposed Seth, h s dark face
taming livid with rage and humiliation. “I
hoe my own row when I git a white man’s
chance—”

“ It’s a man, ain’t it?"

“ It is so; an’ one—”

“ Haw! haw! haw! Waal, I’ll shake the da -
lights out 0’ that leetle busy, to please an o d
friend. But! reckon it won’t do no good, of
she’s sot. Ho! ho! ho! ho! hoo! hoo! boo! So
she’s stole a march on the lot of us. an’give Seth
Wendover the sack! Waal, ole man, you need-
n’t come to me whinin’ with yer tail between
yer legs. You've hyeard what I’ve got tosay
on that subject, time an’ time ag’in. When
Pearl picks out her man. the job’s let!”

Seth listened to this outburst with folded arms
and face the color of putty.

“When you’re done.” he said. as Pancoast
came to a' full stop, “ I’ll say my say.”

 

“Waal, wade in! I’m done fur the present,
till it’s mgeput ag’in.”

“ It’ll your put mighty quick, ef you’re
man enough to put it."

“ Man enough i”

“ I’m ’lowin as you be, an’ that’s the why I’ve
come to on.”

“Waa , you’ve gone as fur as you kin git,‘
an’ keép me waitin’l I’m a. mighty patient man
tell you r’ile me; but I’m tetchy whar my gal is
consarned. Now come to the point.”

“The man what she ’lows to put over my head
is a-foolin’ of her.”

“ What l”

“He don’t mean her no good-”

“Thar you lie, Seth Wendover! You lie in
your black heart! An’ I’ll ram it down your
throat with my list, an’ ull your cowardly
heart up through your gu let! The man don t
stand in shoe-leather what kin court my girl,
meanin’ her harm! The man hain’t got eyes in
his head what kin look at her, an’ believe it
would pay to try it on! You’ve got the suck,
you lyin' hound; an’ you think to git squar’ by
strikin’ your venomous fangs into her tender
flesh! Draw our shootin’-irons! Ef you didn’t
stand on two egs, I’d shoot you fur the cur you
be! Bah! it ’u’d be wastin’ lead on your like!
I‘ll thrash you with a whip!"

And the boomer leader, in contempt at the
possible peril he had drawn upon himself by his
reckless vituperation put up the revolver be
had half-drawn, and began to roll up his shirt-
sleeves.

Seth made no attempt to meet this attack.
He stood with folded arms, looking the enraged
man in the eye.

Never had his face been so bloodless as now.
NeVer before had his voice dropped to so deep a
pitch of iron resolve.

Whatever else he might lack, he had the
nerve that commands respect among men who
kn0w what physical courage is worth.

“ Jase Pancoast,” he said, s10wly, “ you’ll take
that back, or you or me, one of us, will claw
lead, of you were twenty times her father l”

" Take it back? Make your words good; show
me the man what has dared to look on my girl
with an evil eye, an’ I’ll not only swaller it all—-
an’ I never swallered an thin 0’ that sort be—
fore in all my lifel—but ’1! stand fur you to
kick me to your heart’s content, and never look
round to see when you’re through. But come
short of it, an’ I’ll peel the hide of! 0‘ you an’ use
it fur—

“ That’ll do! You’d orter ’low as I ain’t fool
enoug —”

“ His name! That’s all I want to know.”

“ Owen Adair!”

“ Adair!”

If he had been struck by lightning, the effect
could not have been more abrupt on Jason Pan~
coast.

The whole possibility of the case flashed upon
him at once.

That Pearl would be attractive to any man,
he did not need tobe told. Hers was a royalty
that kings do homage to. Gold has always bow-
ed down before beauty.

But what prostrated him was the thought that
Pearl would countenance the advances of the
man he hated most.

As if all the strength had gone out of his body,
he sunk down on a fallen tree-trunk, and there
sat, bowed and broken the sweat starting in
beads on his forehead, his hands trembling with
the palsy of deep emotion.

Seth was moved by the eflect of his words.
To do him justice, he liked Jason Pancoast for
llgimsflf, independent of his relationship to

ear .

Puttinglhis hand on the father’s shoulder, he
said soot ingl :

“I know w at’s flabbergasted on. But, it
iasi'i’i,’t so bad as that. She don’t w who he

“ Don’t know him! Then what have you been
givin’ me?”

“Don’t know who he is I mid. He‘s been
lyin’ to her. She thinks he’s only a broncho-
bu’ster what’s workin’ on Adair’s place.”

If Owen’s designs wereto be put in the black-
:st light, it only needed this deception to do

“I’ll kill him l” muttered Jason Pancoast, in a
hoarse whisper. “ I’ll kill him!”

“ No you won’t,” declared Seth.
read to turn her ag’in’ you yet.”

“ are her ag’in’ me?”

“That’s what I said.”

“ ’in’ her own father?”

“ Ag’in’ the Lord himself! She’s got her heart
sot on this hound. You hain’t seen em together,
as I have.”

Seth ground his teeth; but the lare of utter
hatred that blazed in his eyes to] a more con-
vincing story.

“ Seen ’em together?” repeated stout old Jason
Pancoast, now a very weakling in his pain.
“ When? Wharf”

“She goes out to meet him every da . You
musth’a’ noticed that she ain’t around t 0 camp
muc .

“I have so!” groaned the father. shaking his
head despondently. “ An’ she nevor told me!
Why, I’d ’a’ put my life up on it, as she’d git mo

7 (H)
' .A flit

“ You ain’t

*‘ . ..
311.“.

;  ‘ , r

l

 

 

’1
“I

 

 

'    the Cattle I i i V 9

 

into some quiet corner, an’ hold my face away
so‘s I Couldn’t see her, an’ give me the hull story
right off the reel.”

This added poignancy to his bitterness of soul.
Was the girl bewitched? that had won her
confidence from him?

“ How long has this hyar been goin’ on,
Seth l"

“ The Lord only knows! I’ve been suspicionin’
as somethin’ was up ever sence a day or two
after we struck this hyar section. I didn’t know
what it was. I ’lowed as it was one o’ the boys
cuttin’ the dirt from under my feet. I never
dreamed o’ follerin’ her till the other day. Then
1 found as she went to the same spot day after
day, an' watched, an’ waited, an’ nigh about
cried her eyes out because somebody what she
was lookin’ fur didn’t come.

“ You hyeared about this snoozer nigh about
gittin’ his infernal neck broke off a bronchol
\Vaai, that was what kept him away from her
till today.

“ You never see nobody all broke up like she
was. I Wonder she didn’t cut loose, an’ go after
bun, make or break.

“ Waal, be come to-day; an’ you never see sich
a makin’-up._ Ef he had her before, she’s ten
times worse now.”

Jason Pancoast groaned, and dropped his face
into his hands.

“ That’s what’s the matter with her. I no-
ticed as she was lookin’ peaked all the week' but
to-night she come home jest wild. Iseen it in-
side of her, bu’stin’ out everywhar, like light
through chinks in the wall, though she tried to
keep quiet, an’ not let on.”

But the thought that his bitterest enemy—or,
rather, the man he hated most—had power to so
move his cherished daughter, oaded him to
madness, and smiting his knee with his clinched
fist, he said again:

“ Curse him, I’ll have his biood!”

But once more Seth interposed.

“ l’d ’90 killed him myself, but I didn‘t want
her curse. The thing’s got to be managed mighty
gingerly, or she’ll throw the lot of us overboard
{lur ,bim, or his memory, whichever we leave

er.

Before Jason Pancoast’s imagination a
picture of his daughter’s face as he had t seen

it.
. Pearl had come into camp a transfigured be-
ing. '

For days she had been restless, with all her
movements jerky and angular' but she had re-
turned from her meeting with the desire of her
heart; with her old grace a hundredfold re-
newed.

The old spring had returned to her step, com-
bining strength with flowing smoothness of mo-
tion. The healthful lightness of mien had come
back. It seemed as if it was only by constant
watchful repression that she kept herself from
bursting into glad song.

But it was the shy light in her eyes that her
father had liked best. She‘ had slipped by him
so that he got only a single glance. At the time
he had got the impression that it was a tele-
graphic communication, such as eye speaks to
eye, that she had something to tell him.

And so it was. Ever since she had been able
to tear her thoughts away from absorbed medi-
tation on her lover’s perfections, she had thought
of the moment when, full of delicious confusion,
she _should double her happiness by sin ’ng his
praises into the sympathetic ears of or dear

other. Her mother would know, too, of course;
but she was her father’s girl at heart, and it was
chiisl'teliiIising that she looked forward to with most

e lg . -

It was because, back of the mask of ridicule
he so heartily entered into all her hopes and
plans, droppin here and there a word of wis-
dom, so casual y that it never seemed like guid-

ance.

But of all her little confidences, what could
compare with what she now had to tell himl So
she evaded him just at first, to gain time to plan
how to break the secret to him.

But thinking that the secret was an old one
and that he had been kept out of it for days, if
not for weeks, her father forgot the look, and‘
how he had interpreted it at the time.

He only remembered the change wreu ht in

her. and {tangled by it the dominion Owen dair
had got over or mind.
As he looked back upon it. he believed that

Seth was right, and that the love of ears would
be ousted at a breath b this new infatuation.
If she had told him, s she was even now plan-
ningto tell him, it would have seemed a gain.
Coming as it did from the jealous lover, he in-
sensiny imbibed Beth’s feeling, that he had been
robbed of the dearest thing in life to him, his
“filth?” d rhea-hes, less-
can we 0 wi
ness and dependence altogether newflln‘hlihli?
“ We’ll let him hang himself,” answered Seth.
“ Hang himself!” repeated Paneoast. " It
’u’d be a queer man that would be in the notion
of‘it with such arms as them around his neck.”
What I mean is, we’ll let her know who it is
that has been takin’ her in. She hates Owen
Adair like p‘ison. I hyeard her tell him so to
his face, never dreamin’ as it was Adair she was
speakin to. She was like to break with him

 

only because his name was Owen, when he told
it to her.”

“ Eb! is that so?”

“You’d orter ’a’ hyeard her go on. I reckon
he’d druther she’d think him the devil than the
man he really is.”

“ Ef that’s so, we’ll fix him. You leave it to
me.”

“ Don’t you let on as I’ve put you up to what’s
goin’ on. She’s down on me encugh already.”

“ Don’t you lose no sleep about me. I’ll take
this thing in my own hands.”

With this new hope, Jason Pancoast went his
way, leaving Seth a prey to such anxiety as can
best be imagined.

And later in the evening, when he was alone,
Pearl came tiptoeing up behind him, and sud-
denly cast herself on her knees beside him,
clasping him tightly about the body, and hiding
her face in his board.

In silence he put his arm about her loosely.

This was so at variance with all her experi-
ence of him, that she started back abruptly,
gazing up into his face with anxious wonder.

For the first time in her life his sadl re-
proachful eyes gazed down into the dept s of
he

rs.

Their mute questioning frightened her, and
with a low cry of appeal she flung herself upon
his breast, clasping him about the neck tightly,
and cowering close to him.

This was t e beginning.

 

CHAPTER VII.
TRUE, on FALSE?

WHAT demon of perversity is it that
us when we have most need of the gentle in-
spiration of our guardian 'angel, edging our ten-
derest appeals with the harshness of reproach?

Jason Pancoast’s heart was bleeding' yet his
face was stern, his voice coldly rope out, his
words ill-chosen. .

“So,” he said, “the old confidence is gone!
The one I trusted most issoonest won over by
the enemy!”

“ Father! father!” cried the girl, clinging to
him in terror.

What was this intangible spirit of evil that
had risen between them, shutting her away
frfom the heart she had leaned upon all her
i e! A

If he had been hopelessly insane, she could
not have felt more helpless to cope with his in-
fatuation.

“ 1190 not wonder that you were afraid to tell

e—

“ Afraid l"

“ Ashamed, I should have said.”

“No! no!” she protested, starting up in in-
dignant re udiation. “ Neither afraid nor
ashamed! was about to tell you everything.”

“ The ~more shame that you should have the
hardihood to tell me. But thar ain’t no call
now. I have found out for myself.”

She had started out of his loosely-folding arm,
stungb his bitter imputation, so at variance
with al his past tenderness that she could only
stare at him dumbly.

He had let her go, rising to indicate that this
was a time for penance, no longer for their old
relation of mutual pride and love.

“ l’ve ve you a free foot,” he went on. “ I
thought con d trust you.”

“And you can! you can! Oh, father!” she
cried, extending her hands in an agonized ap-

l.

p6: To sell me out to the first scoundrel that tips
his hat to you i”

“ What can on mean!"

“ I mean to obey though I never laid
commands on you before. ’

“ You shall be!” said the girl, dropping her
head upon her breast.

“ From this day, you are not to set foot out of
this camp till I give you leave.”

“ Not to leave the camp?”

She started back with such a look of distress
that his pain burst into a sudden flame of

wrath.

“Girl! girl!”‘he cried, “have I nurtured a
viper all these years who would rather be the

laything of this villain than the wife of an

onset maul”

“He is no villain i” she replied, fiamin up
with a defiance that equaled his reproach. ‘ on
are my father. You can saying anything you
please a last me; but on shall not malign the
man I ove, and who oves and honors me as
much as I love and trust him."

“Lave—the double-dyed scoundrel!” soofled
stout old Jason Pancoast.

“He is to be my husband: and the man who
marries me will be as good a man as my father.

He—”

“A robber! a iver of bribes! a murderer!
Have you lost a shame, asde as all affec-
tioni But, hark to what I say! YouIars not

to quit this camp again till you get leave from
me.
He turned to go' but she sprung before him.

“8 l You s all not away like this.
There some mistake. on surely do not
know—”

“ I have been mistaken in my daughter. 'I
have never known her. But she has come out

 

in her true colors now. She defies me for a
poisoner!”

“\Vhy do you call Owen Cantwell such ter—
rible names? \Vhat has he done to you?”

“ Owen Cantwell i’” ejaculated Puncoasi, sud-
denly recalling that Seth had defended Pearl’s
conduct on the ground that she did not know
her lover in his true character. “Did he tell
you that his name was Owen Cantwell?”

“Of course he did. What else should he tell
me?”

“ He should tell you that he is a black—hearted
liar, as I will tell him when I cut the heart out
of his villainous body.”

“ What is his name, if not Owen Cantwell?”

“ Oh, it’s Owen Cantwell fast enough, only
with the addition of Adair, when he is bribin’
Congressmen with one hand an’ robbiu’ honest
settlers with the other.”

“ Owen Adair!”
“Owen Adair! And he is to be your bus-
band! Do you fancy sol Curse him! I'll make

a husband of him!”

Now as white as she would ever be in her
shroud, the girl held out her tremulous hands.

“Sto , father! There is some terrible mis-
take. he man I love is not Captain Adair. I
hate him as bitterly as you do. But he is in
his employ, breaking horses. Oh, you should
see him! You would know at a glance that he
is all that even you could ask in my husband.”

“You do as I have bid you. I’ll show you
who an’ what he is!”

And with this covert menace, Pancoast strode

awa .

Hi); daughter stood trembling, her brain in a
whirl of bewilderment. r

What did it all mean? How could such a
mistake have arisen?

That it was a mistake she never for a moment
dreamed of questioning]. Her OWen had only
to be seen to prove that e was not the man as
hateful to her as to any one. Therefore she was
distracted by no fears for his personal safety.

But now her father’s words came back to her.
She had heard them without quite grasping
their full significance at the time.

He had said that the Cattle King’s name was
Owen Cantwell Adair.

Suppose that was true?

But at this thou ht she was shaken by such a
storm of emotion t at in terror at its possibili-
ties she uickly banished it.

But it sit her with a quivering sense of dread
which she did not define.

So weak that her steps tottered, she followed
her father into the tent where he had taken
refuge, and stood before him wringing her cold
and clamm handS.

“Father,’ she said, “let me fetch the man
I filv’? given my life to here, to you. You
w: —-

“ Fetch him here, with the soldiers he carries
in his brooches pocket, and his accursed con-
spirators, at his back?”

He recalled Seth’s words—that the daughter

.of his love would turn .against even him in de-

fense of the man with whom she had become in-
fatuated.

So he went On with increased bitterness:

“ You want them to fetch the gallows for
your father, and the bayonet for the men,
women and children who have come to strike
root into the soil.”

But she had fallen at his feet with a cryot
dismay. .

“A gallows for my father! 0h, do youhe-
lieve that of me?”

“ 1 can believe anythin’ of you, after you have

sold yourself to the devil. Come! oaway an’
make your 09 with yourself. will meet
this hushan of yours in the proper way an’

place. If he downs me he’s welcome. If I
down him, thar won‘t be no tracks leadin’ the
enemy to this camp.”

Without another word of protest she got up
and went out of his presence.

She kept assuring herself that the quiverin
of her nerves, the great waves of faintness
weakness that swept over her, were nothing!
nothing! nothing!

What she meant by that “nothing” she

shrunk from seeing. Desperately she fou ’ht the
sense of fear that oppressed her, as if t were
treasonahle.

Out into the Open air, where she could breathe
more freely; out under the star-lit sky, that
its serenity might calm her perturbed soul, she
went.

What figure was that, which at first sought to
skulk away, and then, seeing that it was too late
to escape observation, assumed a careless air!

Almost at a bound she stood before him, quiv-
ering with scorn and rage.

“ You coward! you liar! you infamous
hognmflh h ked nd stood wing spas-

ut s e c o , a swallo
modicall and gasping for breath.

Seth endover was not a patient man at his
best. Repnoach of any kind oaded him to
murderous fury. Now he st as if about to
spring upon his reviler and tear her with the -
hands he kept clutching as a wild beast might
sheaths and unsheathe ts claws.

While bestruggled with his swelling rage he
could not speak.

 

 

 

 

10

Captain Adair, the Cattle 

 

 

“ This is your work!” she cried. “ How have
on poisoned my father’s mind against me?

flow have you dared to tell him such false-
hoods?”

“ Ef ye want ary thing kept, keep it yerself!”
said Seth, bitterly. “I ’10wed as the ole man
’u’d give me away, though he swore not to.
Waal, as the thing’s out, you might as well git
it flat. Thar ain’t no use 0’ yOur tryin’ to cover
a smudge fire with a chip—basket. You might
’a’ knowed l’d foller you up, an’ find out who it
was as had got the whip—end 0’ me. I trailed
you home: an’ you bet your sweet life I know
Cap Adair when I see him.”

“ You are tolling an untruth. You never saw
me in the company of Captain Adair in your
life.”

“I hain’t, eh? Was], 1’]! fetch you Cap
Adair’s scalp; an’ the next time you see this gay
lover o’ yourn, you’ll see him in a wig, or bald-
headed.’

“You scoundrel! You know that it is not
Captain Adair. But I see through you. You
want to dispose of a rival with a blow in
the back, under cover of the pretended belief
that it is a man for whose death nobody will
seriously condemn you. Now listen to me! I
am only a woman, but one who can and will
keep her word.

“Whether you think him Captain Adair or
not, you lay the weight of your treacherous
hand upon t ie man I love, and I will—I will—”

“ But. shawl He is in no danger from such
a cowar as you. You dare not fire at his
back!”

Once more Wendover could scarcely keep his
hands off his scorner.

But she had said all she wished to say, and be-
fore he could find voice she was gone.

That night he spent wandering about on the
outskirts of the camp planning dire revenge
against the man who had so shattered all his

purposes.

At first the sentinel swore at him, in that way
intending no offense so common among men of
that class; but he ended by laughingly accepting
his presence as a relief from the monotony of his
solitary Vigil.

“ Ef you git a hole blowed through your hide
whar it ain’t convenient, blame erself, not me i”
he laughed. “ What in Cain you skulkin’
around fur, anyway? You must be gittin’ mag-
gots on the brain.”

“ You go ahead an’ do your duty; but before
you shoot, give me a fair challenge; an’ ma be
you’ll it a chance to be head-man at a first-c
funera .” ‘

"Jinan while Pearl Pancoast tossed on a sleepless
p ow.

Never for a moment did she admit to herself
that she doubted Owen; yet the ver intensity of
1 her ionate clinging to her belie showed that

her' ather’s and Seth’s conviction had fastened
upon her faith like the dread octopus.

There were moments of wild elation, in which
she felt that Owen would vindicate himself glori-
ously, and that best evidence of her love would
be to leave him to the test.

But there were other moments of terrible agony,
in which she saw him lying on his face on t e
prairie, with a shadowy to m, which could be
none other’s than‘ Seth endover's skulking
away in the darkness.

“ He will never be given a chance!” she said
to herself. “ What satisfaction will there be in
tearing his murderer limb from limb, after he is
gone forever?”

With the dawn of a new day and the approach
of the hour of their tryst, she was in no better
case

On the one hand was her father’s command;
on the other, a life of maiden idowhoodl

That Seth would kill his val if he got the
chance she did not for a moment doubt.

Should she leave him, then, unwarned in this
awful peril?

“ It is but once,” she pleaded with herself,
struggling with the habit of obedience of a life-
time. “ And my father is mislead by that arch-
villain! If he knew, he would not hold me to
obedience at such a cost. And what is the
allegiance I OWe him. after all, when the very
;- life of one whose claims upon me are even
’ . greater is at stake? Do I owe more to my

ather than to my husband? Must I sacrifice
the one utterly to a mistake of the other, when I
' can save him with only the sacrifice of duty to
that other?"
‘ Of course her love and fear won the day.
Out of the camp she stole, not without self-
coudemnation the wrung her heart.
she persisted, love stru gling with love,
.‘ till she came in sight of Se Wendover also
making his way to the st.
. p “The skulkinpiJ a ni It is as I feared,”
she cried within erself, all breathlessly. “ Now,
 Irinust kill him, I will do. it without falter-
DZ
She drew a revolver with which she always
want armed' and for a moment it was her pur-
g a)“ 3 dog Seth’s footsteps on she saw him in
' s a of stumth]? her lover’s life, and then
anticipate his to areas design with an unor-
u et.
‘- t it was only love that served her to this
"desperation. In defense of her lover she would

 

!
be equal to any act of tragic violence; but need

it come to such a crisis?

After the first moment, in which the innate
savagery of our nature manifested itself, the
acquired ruth of civilization came back.

With the thought that murder might be pre-
vented without homicide, duty and inclination
coincided.

Hastening forward till she was within easy
pistol-range, Pearl leveled her weapon, and com-
niaiided:

“ Halt!”

Wendover had get near enough to the tryst-
ing place so that he had begun to creep forward
on the alert; but his attention was fixed before
him, disturbed by no suspicion of vigilance on
his trail.

A shot could not have brought him to a stand
more abruptly, nor caused him to whirl round
with greater apprehension.

Like a flash of light his hand went round to
clutch his revolver; but the weapon was not
drawn.

He found himself looking straight down a
group of six pistol bores, held as firmly as if
resting on a rock.

“Now, yo miserable hound l” cried the girl,
“ ought not to serve you as you have it in
mind to serve another? If I had sent you out
with a shot in the back you would have had no
cause for complaint. ut draw your weapon,
if you are not too cowardly to meet even 8. WO-
man. You are after blood; you are welcome to
mine, on equal terms.”

Of course Seth would entertain no such chal-
lenge as this.

Aside from his passion for his challenger, he
was not read to be tortured to death, as he
knew he won! be, if convicted of fighting to
the death a woman in whose defense all the
camp would 8mg to arms at once.

“ You’re a- rin' down on me purty hard,”
he said, sullenly. “ Ef on was a man, I
wouldn’t whine at that. ut est remember

ou’re a woman, with a womans lease 0’ gab.
’llbe beholden to ye to go as light on meas
you conveniently kin.”

“ You owe it to my being a woman that I do
not do a service to the rest of mankind, b mak-
ing them a present of your room in the p ace of
your company. About face! You have gone
far enough in that direction.”

.“ You’ve ot the drop on me; but ef you was
a man, I’d c ance it.”

Sullenly he stepped out of the trail to let her

pass him.
SW, with her head erect, her nostrils
dila and quivering. She did not fear r-
sonal violence, nor den or to her lover, now hat
she was by. So she t rust her weapon back
into its retreat in the folds of her dress.

“You’re bound to make me out as tough as
ou kin, now you hain’t no further use fur me.
ut I come to have it out with that thar gent on

the squar’; an’ have it out with him I will, be-
fore he steps into in shoes.”

“ Into your shoes ” cried the girl, scornfully.
“ He never will. Nor will you ever step into
his. You may depend upon—”

But she abruptly broke OR, and throwing up
her hand in warning whispered hoarsely:

“ Hush. Not another word. Not a sound to
betray your presence here. If you follow me, it
will be at your peril.”

And, with her face alight with radiance that
could have but one meaning, she glided forward
out of sight.

h In spite of her warning, Seth followed after
er.

He saw her unconsciously assume the graceful
poses of tender passion, as she ‘flitted from cov-
ert to corert, with the purpose of givmg her
lover a playful surprise.

At sight of him approaching, all her doubts
were dissipated, as mist before the midsummer

sun.

Her brave Owen! Be a deceiver with that
look of eager expectancy on his facei

With wild exultation she imagined herself
folding him in her arms and pouring into his
ear, with blent laughter and indignation, the
slander that had been voiced against him.

How he would smile her fears to rest. With
what roud confidence would he go with her
into t e camp and confront her father, and
Seth, if he dared to show himself.

But at this point she stopped suddenly, as if
turned to stone by the si ht of the Medusa.

With a gaspsshe lifted er hand to her heart.
Wonderingd may and nameless anguish were
in her eyes. And Set , who saw her in and
its cause, with difilcu ty repressed a ye i of ex-
ultation. .

CHAPTER VIII.
mo 'rnn samows.
3:: there ever a happier lover than Owen
r

The women he had known all his life hadan
trained to a set code of propriety, like a squad
of soldiers moving at the word of command.

Whatever fate sent to them they took with
lad like self- session, and never by any -
hil ty overs pptd the line drawn by their

mammas.
But here was a veritable child of nature,

 

 

whose feelings translated themselves into action
as s ntaneously as a bird bursts into song.

e fell to picturing his new home, brightened
by her presencw—the gay surprises she Would
spring upon him, each more charming than the

fist.

This happy anticipation filled him with such
buoyancy that unconsciously he spurred his
horse into a headlong dash across the free ex-
panse of prairie.

So it happened that he reached his ranch con—
siderably in advance of Ada Savoy.

All night long the laughing face and flexible
cadences of his sweetheart’s voice haunted his
dreams, and on the following day he set out
with greater eagerness than ever to renew com—
munication with the bright reality.

Resolved that she should not put him to shame
by anticipating him at the tryst, he went early,
intending to hide his horse and then secrete him-
self where he c0uld watch her coming and note
the expression of her face while she waited for a
sn used laggard.

he could only get her to display a bit of
temper at his apparent delinquency, and then
discover himself and tease her about it.

So it hap ned that he stole upon the spot
where a fias of color filled him with disappoint—
ment and delight.

“She is ahead of me! The little rogue! To
think that she should be so eager for the meet-
ing, and, above all, let it be Seen l”

She was sitting, half reclining, at the foot of
a tree. He thought that she was sunk in a ten-
der reverie such as lovers know. Might be steal
upon her unawarcs?

He get within a step of her, approaching from
the rear, so that she was half-hidden by the
trunk of the tree, when the snapping of a twig
betra ed him, and reused her.

See ng her start forward, he covered the inter-
venin distance with a single bound, casting
himse f on one knee, and imprisoning her in his
arms.

One hand caught her under the chin, and tip-
ped her head back, so that he kissed her over her
shoulder, full upon the lips, before he had fairly
seen her, and indeed before she Saw him.

So little did he dream of any possibility of
mistake in that wilderness where women were
almost, if not quite, as rare as angels, that he
only noticeda month between two hands that
covered the rest of the face; “ an’ he went fur it
thar an’ then ” to discover that he had stolen
that for which restitution could not be made by
giving it back.

hen——

“ Good heavens!” I

But it was too late to start back with that look
of utter dismay. The mischief was done. A
woman was gazin at him as a woman ares
only at the man w 0 has her heart in his eep-

in .
lWith cl hands, with flutterin breath
with eyes fa rly scintillating, she lean toward

him, breathing tremolously:

“ Owen! Owen!"

Here was an awkward situation for a man
who, on the one hand, was so leal a lover as our
enamored young Cattle King, and on the other,
had the instincts of gentlemanly consideration
for the unfortunate lady before him.

For the moment Owen could but stare dum—
founded.

But the eye speaks the forming thou ht. She
read it, and threw out her arms as i to clasp
him about the neck, but reaching only far
enough so that her hands fell upon his shoulders,
and so sunk forward till her face was hidden in
his breast.

And at a little distance. yet out of earshot, a
dead-white face appeared above the foliage of
an intervening clump of undergrowth, and 9 es
that must havo pierced him to the heart, ' be
had seen them, took in the scene, and interpret-
edit fatally amiss.

“ Wait! wait!” pleaded the wretched woman,
whose every nerve was yet quivering With the
shock of his kiss. “I know what is trembling
on your lips. But, in return for what I give
you, - give me a momentary respite. It will
cost you nothing .butapassm anno once; and
one wife is so rich in your ove, wi 1 not miss
what does not lessen her store. Remember, I
am a woman too!” '

How e! could she have so appealed to him?
A woms' too—like the woman he loved!

What if it were Pearl, so pained, so humili-
ated, so utterly desolate?

The woman’s words of self-abasement had
choked her. She was shaken by a storm of
sobs that rent the heart in labor with them.

Was he a man; was he a lover; and could he
push her coldly away?

But what could be said? Nothing!

Clinging to him so desperately, it seemed as if
she would swoon, and slip from his breast to the

ground.
His heart swelling and aching with pity. be
utasustaining am about her, and scarcely
nowing what he did, stroked her hair with a
scothing touch.
There was the violent agitation of a bush, as
a woman staggered a step forward and clutch-
ed atit,sin ng to herknees With agrasp of
anguish. I

 

 

 _»  we»      “

Gap ain Adair, the Cattle King.

 

11

 

 

 

Knowing nothing of this, the other actors in
the scene went on.

The woman lifted her face and her streaming
eyes, leading piteously:

“ hat shall I do? what shall I do? I am
here, like this, and not ashamed! My heart is
dead to evorything but the agony of my love for
you, and the tearing anguish of the knowledge
that it is to be cast away as something worth-
less—worse than that, as a plague, an annoy-
ance—something that you would despise, but
for pity!”

The quivering wail in her voice imparted its
tremor to his heart, till his eyes grew humid and
sad beyond expression.

“ No, no, Ada!” he protested, involuntarily
using her name, as an expression of the depth of
his commiseration. “ Not that! Not to be cast
awav, nor despised!”

How was it possible that she Could misunder-
stand him? Only the egotism of love, of pas-
sionate longing, was equal to such blindness.

So suddenly that it was a moment before he
realized how it had come about, she cast herself
once more on his breast, clinging about his neck
with her lips to his.

“ 3h. Owen! Is there hope?" she cried.

Then she was overcome, and hid her face with
a renewed gush of tears.

What, with a modest man, could equal the
embarrassment of such an appeal?

Owen Adair flushed scarlet to the tips of his
ears.

“ There is some—some mistake!” he stammer-
ed. “ I—I would shoot myself, if I felt that I
was to blame through carelessness. But—but—
I beg your pardon !—I must tell you your first
im ression was correct. I—I—”

ut he could not give expression to the words
that trembled on his li By one of those sud-
den transitions over which we have no control,
he was convulsed with a ghastly im ulseto burst
into a roar of laughter at the grizz y ridiculous-
ness in such a situation, of the hackneyed
phrase.-

“ I love another.” '

Do we fch one another’s emotions without
any outward sign?

As if by a subtle clairvoyance the woman
seemed to divine what went on within him; and
springing up with a snarl like that of a furious
beast, she urned him from her, and stood for
the moment unable to speak.

\Vhat man can look unmoved upon the pas-
sionate intensity of a thoroughly desperate
Woman?

Of course it was fear of what she might do,
not to him, but to herself, that thrilled Owen to
the heart, and made him extend deprecating
hands, with the protest:

“ Ada! Ada!’

His voice, now raised, pierced the shrinking
ears of one who lay prone on the ground, shud-
dering and quivering, as might a patient under
the torturing instruments of a sur con.

1 “ Do not dare to touch me! f you lay a
hand upon me, I will kill you or myself! I
hate you! Do you hear me! fput my heart
:Jtlilldeli yl'ourhfeet; and you—Tyou have outraged

1” oat e you as nothing—nothing— Oh

Throwing up her arms wildly, the wretched
woman turned and tied.

Could he do less than follow her? .What was
her fault? Her love for him! Could he aban-
don her to the ravages of unbridled passion, if
{pa ?will, but—not to be forgotten—passion for

m

He had raised the storm. Was it not as little
yes? he could do, to make some eflort to allay
1 i
What that one who loved him more tenderly,
and perhaps quite as desperate]? as thisone,
lay panting her life away as she card his re-
treating footsteps

Of this he could know nothing. He saw only
a momentary disappointment to her, which he
could compensate, while this one till struggled
with her despair. g ‘

Let him see her safel y home, with that parox-
YSm . . He could do no more. Could he
well 0 lost?

He followed after; and the woman left behind
reasoned it out all amiss

It was the lady whom be seriously prized, for
her wealth, perhaps-her social poaition.

Prized her, selfishly. It would be desecration
to say that he [Oved her, She had not the
power to keep his fan from straying to a sim.
ple girl, in nothing is equal as the world
gauges such things. I ’

He had sought er for the amusement of an
hour, beguiling her with thOse tender perjul‘i“
to which she had lent an all-too-crednlous ear.

Detected in his faithleasneas by the 1m who
claimed his allegiance, he had gone to ma 9 his

co with her, abandoning the one he could
ism spifm h i h '
utw owast is man, nw omahehgd m
ed so blindly, by whom she had been so 
defeived?Be
twas th Wendover who brou ht
answered this question. 8 up “d

“ I reckon ou’re satisfied, now, that this cha
don’t put in t e heft of his time bmncho—bu’stin‘:
I could ’;i’ told you this thing long ago, of you’d

 

asked me. He’s been danglin’ about her at the
Fort fur months.”

Without a word Pearl got up; without a
glance she passed Seth; neither hurrying nor
loitering she walked toward the boomers’ camp.

On the way she met her father, evidently out
in quest of her.

Struck by the stony expression of her face,
Jason Pancoast waited for her to speak first.

“Father,” she said, in hard, inflexible tones,
“ I have disobeyed you. I went to my punish—
ment.”

“ W hat’s all this hyar?" demanded her father,
scanning her anxiously.

The great change in her chilled his anger.

She looked away from him wearily, and made
no answer.

Seth, who had followed her at a little distance,
answered for her. -

" She has caught that snoozer up to his tricks.
Thur ain’t nothin’ left for us to do. He’s cured
her himself.”

“ He? Who?”

“ Cap Adair—curse him!”

“ Adair!" .

“ We ketcbed his lordship at a bit 0’ promis-
cuous courtin’—”

“ Enough!” cried Pearl, whirling upon her
rejected suitor with a wrathful stamp of her

oot.

But this was only the flicker of a dying flame.
As if her spirit were broken, her head sagged
again on her shoulder, and with a sigh of weari-
ness, she said:

“ Let us go home.” -

Her father, however, would not hear to this.

“ An’ you let him go?” he said to Seth, not
heading his daughter.

Sturdy old Jason Pancoast’s wrath blazed up
finely. With a contemptuous glance he pressed
past the man who had disappointed his expecta-
tions. . -

“ We’ll see of he walks off out o’ my clutches!”
he growled, ominously drawing his revolver.

But he found his path obstructed.

“ Father,” said the girl, without excitement,
yet immovably, “ on shall not go after him.”

“ What!" roaredyold Jason Pancoast, staring
at the daughter who now for the first time in
her life not her will ainst his.

“ You shall not f0 low him,” the repeated,
as quietly as before.

“ What’s the use?” interposed Seth, more dis-

uieted by the prospect o a collision between
t ese two than if it had been two men. “ He’s
cooked his own goose. We hain‘t got no more
use fur him, dead or alive.”

He looked straight into Pancoast’s eyes, with
an earnest protest in his glance.

This probably had as much effect as his words.

The boomer chief yielded the int with a
readiness that might have arou his dau h-
ter’s suspicions, had she not been so absor in
the visions that ran riot in her brain.

All three turned and walked together to the

camp.
Pearl went to the tilted wagon which washer
home and hid herself and her misery within it.
Seth Wendover seized Jason Pancoast’s wrist,
and with the grin of an ogre whispered: /
“ You hvear me, J asel—we'll have that
snoozer yit

 

CHAPTER IX.
- m LION’S nourn.

Tim next day, sorely perplexed what excuse
to make for his failure to cop tryst so soon
after the happiness of securing his sweetheart,
yet in no dou t as to the impossibility of telling
the truth about it, Owen Adair sought the
place of meeting. . -

Of course disa paintment awaited him.

“ She is repayihg me in my own coin, he re-
flected. “I deserve it' yet—yet—”

After all, he would have been better pleased
if she had proved less quick at resentment. Is
not the best love long-suffering, and above all,
trustfull

But his was not the nature to take pique from
pique. If he had that vanity which most people
misname pride, it was not so strong as is in—
dulgence. .

So he went home disappointed, yet making
excuses for her.

But on the fbllowing day, when she came not,
his faith in her would no longer let him receive
this explanation of her prolonged absence.

“ She would never punish me like this,” he re-
flected. “She couldn’t hold so bittera grudge.”

Then‘he stood in anxious speculation. What
had happened? What was to be done?

“ She has been detected; and there is inter-
ference,” was his flat surmise.

But where is the lover whose fears would not
cougars up a more direful miechance than this!

I was not long before he had convinced him-
self that she was ill, or had sustained an acci-

dent of some sort. At any rate, she might be ‘

at the point of death from some cause or other
for aught he knew; and of course it behoov
him to know.

It was not personal fear that deterred him
from walking into the boomers’ camp and
makin a peremptory demand on her father.

But 9 know that, oonsiderin the estimation
in which he was held, this would nothing short

“ 13" a ,__‘ I.:,,_ H. . _:,:

- clo’es to help you to a. squar' feed.

 

of an open declaration of war, and that hence-
forth his chance of getting his Sweetheart would
be rather slim, if he did not have recourse totho
primitive method of carr ing her off bodily.

“I’ll go in disguise. hat’s the ticket!” was
his final resolve. “ I ain’t much of a bush-
whacker, if I can’t make my way into that
camp in the dark.” ~

And this plan he proceeded to carry out be-
fore caution blunted the edge of adventure.

Though he was thus prompt, Owen was not
the less prudent. Not only his personal safety,
but the happiness of the woman he loved, was at
stake. He would therefore take every precau-
tion to insure success.

Though he had never seen Pearl till his fall,
yet he had known her father’s party before it
effected its entrance into Oklahoma; and a dis-
covery he had since made with reference to it
was now the basis of his plan of reconnoissance.

That night be repaired to the vicmity of a
road-house, known as Roscommon’s Roost—a
place with an unsavory reputation, the resort of
many of the worst characters in that section of
country.

His most intimate friend might have paSSed
him by in the dress he wore on this occasion;
and his slouching gait was as different as possi-
ble from his wonted athletic movements.

Skulking about in the outer darkness, he
watched those that entered the tavern till he
had found his man.

“ Good!” he cried, rubbing his hands in grati-
fication. “ I’ve hit him the first pass. I’d have
risked it anyway, rather than wait; but this
will make it easier.”

Then he waited till a very talkative roisterer
made his appearance and staggered off in the
night by himself.

t was now well on toward ten o’clock; but,
thou h the watcher’s patience had been severely
tax the condition of the man for whom he
had Iain in wait restored his good nature the
moment he saw him.

“He hasn’t staid in there all this time for
nothin !” he laughed. “ Mr. J imson, I’m really
Ob¥u toyou.”

hereupon he set out to track the reeling
inebriate.

J imson Was not “ blind ” drunk, but just so an
to be “monarch of all he annoyed :” so there
was no difficulty in keeping track of him,.though
he all the while flattered himself that he was
covering his trail with consummate skill.

Leaving the road-house, ostensibly to make
his way to another of the same character, he
soon left the road, shaping his course across the
prairie by a- landmark on the distant horizon.

When satisfied of his destination, Owen made
a detour, and by rapid riding gained the point
for which he was making sufficiently in advance
of him to receive himon his entrance into:
tract of timber.

“Halt! Throw up your hands 1” commanded V .
in the dense shadow of the

Owen, standing
woods, while the other sat his horse unsteadily
in the open prairie, lit only by the stars, at
staf‘ficiently to make him clearly distin 'h-
a e.
“ Is that you, J ack?” hiccoughed the inehriate.
“ Why, blast your dirty hide! how often have I
ggt to give you that infernal countersig‘n!
hat is it! Okla-boomer? Boomer-homo!
Blow me if I’ve got the scurvy thing about me.
What in blazes is the matter with Cap, that he

isticks us with this confounded nonsense? An’

what be you doin’ hyar, anyway? I ’lowed as
the twist 0’ this blessed landscape was in my
topknot; but blow me if I don’t believe that that
d -gone cam has gone on its travels.”
wen let t e fellow ramble on, in the b

that he might drop something that couldog
turned to account.

Despairing of this, he now called him up with
a round turn.

“ Air you waitin’ fur to have a skylight
blowed through the top 0’ your knowledge-box!
Hands up. you drunken fool!”

“Eh? Blow mé tight! That's gota businem '

ring. Don’t shoot, box! I’m mighty slim
pickin’s, though. You might about as well let‘

me pass. If you’re down on yer luck, an’ '

hungry, I reckon I hain’t got enough about 11:
You’re w

come to what you kin find on me.
it kindly it you’ll put up your shootin’-iron. If

An’ r11 take ' "

you’reasshaky as I’ve been, many’s the time, Y ‘

the thing might go OR by accident, like, before
you got ready fur it.”

Meanwhile, J imson com lied with the demand
of the supposed road-agen

In that country it was not a surprising thing
for a man who found himself “ hard up” to sup-
plv his pressing wants in this way.

He might be a ood fellow, for all that.

“ Ride ahead
manded Owen.

“Side-step to the right! That’s me, every.

time!”

And J imson set his horse in motion by thump-
ing him with his heels.

Owen’s ad on the bridle-rein checked the
animal: and with equal readiness he disarmad'
his captive. :

“Use me as well as on kin,b088.”PW-..

Jimson. “Iain’tmakin younotrouble.”

, ’ _ .5.»
 , walk. ‘-

yar into the shadder,” oom~

 

 

 

Us.

12 Cap

tain Adair, the Cattle  .  ,_

 

“ Pile off 0’ that hoes!” commanded Owen.

“ Oif’s the word! Thar you be.”

“ Now, shake them duds, quicker’n greased
lightnin’.”

“ What’s that, boss?”

“ Snake your dirty carcass out 0’ them duds,
I say.”

“Git out o‘ my clo’es, pardneri”

“ Peel! Blast you! hain’t you got no ears!”

“ Oh, I’ve got cars like a over’ment mule,
kwoheu, you speak loud enoug . I hyear you,

ss

And J inison got out of his clothes forthwith.

" I’m always talkin’ business when I shout-
now don’t you disremeniber itl” observed Owen,
while he awaited the completion of this process.

When it had gone as far as suited him, he
called a halt.

“That’ll do, pardner. I ain’t a hog.”

“ A hog? You! You’ve left me my shirt an’
boots!” responded J imson, with rueful sarcasm.

“ You wasn‘t born with as much as that on,”
answered Owen.

“ An’ I reckon I won’t need as much after I’m
dead," admitted Jimson. “ But meanwhile do
you ex t me to stand shiverin’ through life,

11 gin my knees fur to keep warm?”

‘ You kin do as you blame please,” was the
captor’s permission. “ That ain’t no funeral o’
mine.”

And he coolly took possession of the clothes.

“ Ef you’re ’lowin’ to leave me a raglan o’ yer
own fur to cover my nakedness, don’t stop to
hunt the vermin in it,” petitioned Jimson, with
the sardonic philosophy of the West.

“ About face! Cross yer hands behind yer
back,” commanded Owen, unmoved by the
other’s gibe.

“ What be you ’lowin’ to do by me, boss!"
asked J imson. anxiously. “ Who be you, any-
Way" an’ what have I done to you i”

' t ’u’d be a godsend to your friends fur you
to it a Spell o’ the lockjaw,” observed Owen.

nd this was his only answer to the anxious
inquiries of his victim, as he proceeded to tie his
wristS.

Thus secured, he marched him into the timber,
apd there made him lie down, and bound his feet
a so.

Leaving him to meditate on the rplexing
features of this unexpected situation, wen made
off with the clothes he had confiscated, and with
his captive’s horse as well as with his own.

He took with him, among other things, a jug
which Jimson had taken to and brought from
Roscommon‘s Roost.

In addition to these things, he took the coun-
tersign, which be last forced from Jimson’s re-
luctant lips.

Then riding to a point at such a distance
from the boomers’ camp as best suited his pur-
pose, Owen doffed' his own ragged garb, and
donned that of the unhappy J lmson.

Leavin his horse secume tied, he rode bold-
ly to the mers’ camp, mounted on Jimson’s
animal, habited in Jimson’s habiliments, and
simulating J imson’s mien.

On his approach he was promptly challenged
by the sentry.

“ Halt, an’ give the countersi i”

“ Oklahoma boomers, you b asted fool !” he
growled, Jimson to the Very tone of his voice.

‘You orter know a pard when he’s fetchin’ a
jug o’ whisky. ef you don’t no other time.”

‘ I‘m obeyin’ orders,” answered the sentinel,
not at all displeased b the o robrious title he— ’
stowed upon him. “ don’t now nobody when
I’m on duty.”

“ All rig it By the same token, you won't
know the smell 0’ this hyar dimijohn when
you’re on duty.”

“ Hold on, J imson! You hain’t goin’ back on
a pard like that!”

“Ohol you do know the man with the jug,
even when Iyou be on duty!”

“ After git an eye-opener, Jim 2”

“ Waal, don’t you suck all the eye-opener out
o’ tpisnhyar before you let up' your death-grip

“ I’ll know you when I see you a n, Jim, on
'duty, or 03 duty ” was the sentine ’s assurance,
as he swung the ug upon his elbow.

Afters few spasmodic gurglss, he was sum-
marily dispossessed, and Owon rode on into the

camp.

He had scarcely passed the on bkirts, however
when he was met by a group of men, one o
whom greeted him with:

“ You’re the snoozer I’m layin’ fur, Jim Jim-
son! I reckon this hyar is about as good a time
an’ place as I’ll git for to have it out with you.
So git down out 0’ that, an’ peel. You're my
meat, and don’t you disremember it !"

 

CHAPTER X.
to run assent!

To say that Owen Adair was rather taken
aback would be to “ draw it mild.”

“Well! well!” he said to himself, “here‘s a
a)! Peel—and betra myself! Can I knock

is fellow out and ye preserve my identity!”

The risk was too great. He resolved to
“ hedge,” if possible.

“ You go ’long!” he growled. “ I hain’t no
time to bother Wltll you jest now.
“You’ll have to make time, then,” responded
his challenger, pugnaciously.
Of course he gathered courage as his adver-
sary showed adisposition toavoid an encoun-

r.

“ My rocks is talkin’ fur Billy Blowhardl”
shouted one of his backers.

“ I’ll handle the lot 0’ ye to-morrer,” promised
Owen; “ but I’ve got bigger fish to fry to-
night.”

And he sought to go on.

But Billy was now confident that his fears in
the past, which had led him to submit to indig-
nities from J imson till he had at last been goad-
ed to desperation, had been baseless.

“ You don’t fry no fish, big or little, till I’ve
ecoked your goose,” he declared, putting him-
self directly in Owen’s path, and arresting him
by seizing his bridle-rein.

“ Go in, Billy !” yelled his friends.
the ground with him.”

Owen saw that if he was to win by a bluff, he
must lay himself out in it.

“ If you make me put my hands to you,” he
said, in a low, rumbling growl, “ I’ll leave noth-
in’ but soap-grease 0’ you i"

Bill’s vowe was nv t as steady as before; but
he had resolved to make a stand, make or break;
so he answered doggedly:

“ I’m waitin’ fur ye, boss. Git down out 0’
that, or I’ll snake you off by the crap.”

“ i’m in for it! reflected Owen. “ Now, if
there is any real excellence in the manly art, I
must ut it to the test.”

An he leaped from his horse.

“ Peel,” said Billy, now trembling in every
nerve, yet determined to die hard.

“I don’t do no peelin’ fur the like 0’ you,” an-
swered Owen, scornfully.

He had no idea what sort of an antagonist he
was to encounter, but in any event it was im-
possible to betray himself by removing his dis-

uise.
g “ I have one chance to come through this con-
founded thing all right,” be reflected. “ I’ve got
to clean this fellow up without turning'a hair
myself.”

“ I’ve give you your show,” said Billy. “ Don’t
say I took you—” ‘

“ Look out for yourself!” cried Owen, making
an instant spring and lungs.

He got in a clean knock-down, and Billy might
have capitulated, but the friend who had goa ed
him on e'aculated:

“ Waa , I’m blowedi An’ this hyar’s the
coyote I’ve been backin’i Jim J imson, will you
do me a personal favor? Will you kick me
clean through this hyar camp? I give you my
word, I’ll never look round to see who’s a-doin'

1

At that Billy gathered himself with a snarl of

H  

fur .

“yHold on tharl I reckon I’ve got a right to
the same show as ary other man. One knock-
down don‘t make a knock-out.”

“ Toe the scratch then, an’ go fur him ag’in.”

“ Hyer's at you, boss!’

Then followed as lively a set-to as the crowd
need wish to see."

Mad all through. Bill was no mean antago-

mat.

“ If he knew how to handle himself, he’d 've
me to hands full,” reflected Owen. “ Ahi n-
foun him i” .

For, recovering from a staggering blow, Billy
jumped in and clinched.

Now there was nothing for it but to bring the
affair to a conclusion as soon as possible.

Owen got his antagonist across his hip, and
swinging him from his feet, sent him to grass on
the broad of his back with a stunning force.

A yell of deli ht greeted this feat.

But alas for t e victor! His hat was torn ofl'.

‘1‘ Jim J imson never done that thar !" shouted a
v0 ce.

And Owen found himself confronted by Seth
Wendover, who scrutinised him with suspicious

e es.
yOwen reached to recover his hat; but with a
quick movement of his foot, Seth kicked it
awav.
;:iYou don’t want that thar, J im—not yet,” he
so

“ Maybe you want some 0’ the sort that that
snoozer has been treated to,” growled Owen,
trying to hide his face as much as possible.

‘ Id like a good squar’ look at you first.”

Of course this was the last thing Owen could
think of rmitting.

He at ered himself for a spring such as the
man 6 counterfeited m ht have made in the
circumstances, only to nd himself lookin
straight down the bore of a revolver which So
bad swung to the front.

“ We’ve got you, stranger!” wasthe announce-
ment of detection. ya, a espy !”

Like a flash revolvers bristi on every hand.

The jig was u Owen folded his arms, and
bewed coolly to is captors.

At this moment a yell of astonishment went
up on the minkirts of the crowd.

“ Throw up yer hands!” commanded Beth,

 

As for com romising the di i of the man
he represented: he cared nothinggnagmt that.

stem] .
“Geyntlemen, I am your prisoner, if you

.legs,lif nghmsoas to take thestrain

 

choose to consider me so,” said Owen, in his
natural tones. “ There is no need—”

“ Up with yer hands, blast ye!” roared Seth.

OWen complied.

While they were disarming him the crowd
parted, to admit one whose scant toilet Owen
reco nized at a glance.

“ fir. Jimson, ’ said Owen, “ I have to apolo-
gize to you for any inconvenience I may have
caused you. I hOpe you will not take cold from
your ex ure.”

“ Col be hanged l” growled Jim. “What I
want is a good squar’ show at you. Ef you air
a better man than me—”

“That’s nothin’ to the purpose,” interposed
Seth. “ Boys, do on know who this hyar is!”

“ Nary,” repli one of the crowd, without
particular concern.

“ It’s Owen Adair!”

The breathless pause that followed this an-
nouncement was succeeded by an outburst of
fury.

HA I”

“ He’s been sent b er to kill Cap Pancoast!”

“ It was his fat er as poisoned Oklahoma
Payne 1” ~

“ Or hired somebody else to do it.”

“ Down him! down him!”

In a twinkling a score of hands were upon!
Owen’s rson.

“ Hol on, entlemenl” he rotested. “ I de-
mand to be ed to Captain ancoast himself.
None of you have any right to act without his
sanction.’

“ You’ll git all the Cap Pancoast ye want!”

“ Who’s callin’ fur me?”

And Jason Paucoast appeared in person

" It is Adair, the poisoner!” shouted Seth.
“ He waylaid Jim Jimson, downed him, confis-
cated his clo’es, rigged himself out in ’em, an’
stole in hyar lookin’ fur you. It was only by
chance that I run acrost Jim, an’ then follered
this snooser into camp. I reckon of I hadn’t,
you might ’a’ woke up before mornin’ in glory,
with a knife in you.”

The fact was that Seth had been on the look-
out for some such venturing into the camp by
the distracted lover; and so had made his dis-
covery. ,

For a moment Jason Pancoast stared at the
man he hated, now more bitterly than eVer.

It gave Owen time to interpose:

“ Mr. PanCoast, there is no cause for personal
enmity betWeen you and me. Indeed, there is
every reason—on my rt, at least—”

But here Jason ancoast interrupted the
speaker, looking away from him at the crowd.

“Boys,” he said, “ reckon I must ’a’ took
cold last night. I’m deef on the right side 0’ me
an’ blind in the right eye so’s not to see nothin
as is oin’ on. This hyar is your ni ht ofl'. Ef'
you ave any leetle amusement, a l I ask is,
don’t make too much noise about it.”

A yell drowned Owen’s up . Jason Pan-
coast turned away. Then a was in wildest
confusion.

“ A re l” shouted some one.

“ We’l send his carcass back to them as sent
him hyar!”

“ Not till it’s utrid l”

But intelligib 9 speech was lost in ageneral-
burst of execration.

Owen Adair was not the man topassivel sub-
mit to such a fate as this. Summoning a his:
energies, 'he began such a struggle as his captors
had never witnessed.

He succeeded in tearin himself free, and for
a time knocked them to r ght and left. But in
the end numbers prevailed; and, bleeding, ex-
hausted, stunned a most to unconsciousness, he
lay under amass of assailants.

One b one they scrambled 03, or were pulled
away. hen he was dragged to his feet, and bus--
tled toward a tree, a limb of which aflorded the
gallows designed for him. .

Covered with dirt and streaming with blood,
Seth Wendover quite lost his head. .

It did not occur to him that this tree was in
the full flare of the firefight: or he might have
borne his victim in another direction.

His one thought was to get his enemy—the
man who had maddened him with the smart of

hysical in in addition to the chagrin of de-
feat at ova—dangling between heaven and
earth.

Even he must have been satisfied with the
celerity with which the noose was put about
Owen’s neck.

Then, with a yel they bore away on the other
end of the rope, an the victim of mob violence
was writhing in the air.

But now every ear was pierced by a shriek of
fear and anguis .

There was a violent hustling amid the crowd,
strong men being knocked aside: and in a mo-
meat a rl a red clasping Owen «bog:r gait;
neck, while she appealed to his murderers with
inarticnlate cries.

A mob is as nnnsasoning in its relenting as in
jurifiuespcm u- : hat oi ‘ trated to

e o t v ce pens every
heart, filling it with dismay.

The same impulse seiaed all at once. To a man
they sought to ease u on the rope, and to op-
pose the persistence o the rest.

 

 

 

 

‘ {alp

r_""'s.‘. e ‘
i, I“ 'l:)"v"’\- v“.

tain‘ Adair, the Cattle King:

13

 

 

The result was, that the re ran rapidly over
the limb, so as to let Owen 3 weight fall sud-
denly upon his rescuer.

Under it she sunk to the ground on her knees
but transferred her hold as the body lop
over, so as to save his head from a stunning
bump on the ground.

He was still dimly conscious, and gasped and
swallowed spasmodically when her eager fingers
had torn the noose from his neck.

At sight of her, Seth Wendover’s first im-
pulse had been to seize her and restrain her by

rsonal violence till her interference would no

onger avail, but, in the height of his rage, he
yet retained sense enough to know that this
would not do.

“ Her father!” he though and immediately
ran for the one man who coul assume authority
over her.

To escape the legal responsibility of the hang-
ing, Jason Pancoast had betaken himself to one
of the tilted wagons.

If arraigned, as the leader of the mob, he
could swear that he had not seen it.

Here Seth sought him.

“Jase! Jase! fur God's sake, come hyar
Pearl!”

Pancoast was fairly dragged out of the wagon;
and guessing what had happened, rather than
understanding Seth’s broken explanation, be
rushed to the spot where his daughter was spoil-
in all his lens.

0 fouu her bendin over Owen, holding his
head on her bosom, an gazing distractedly into
his white face, while her tears rained upon it.

With a howl of ra 9, he seized her by the
shoulder of the dress, s ing her, and striving
to drag her to her feet.

h " agar]! Git out 0’ this! What air you doiu
yar

“Father!” she cried, extending her arms to
him in supplicatiou.

“ Don’t father me! Git out 0’ this, I say!
This hyar ain’t no place fur you.

“ But it is murder! They are killing him—”

“Quit it! Do you hyear mo?”

“ You too!” cried the girl, starting back from
him in horror. “ Is my own father a murderer?
Is this with your consent?"

“ Will you go?"

“No! no!” ‘

Tearing herself away by a sudden writhing
movement, she sprung back to Owen’s side, to
stand over him. his defender to the death.

“ Hear me!” she cried, raising her voice to a
note that thrilled every one that heard it. “ If
you are a nest of murderers, you shall have two
victims instead of one!”

And in either hand, from the folds of her
dress, leaped a cooked revolver!

It’s

 

CHAPTER XI
wno Is wrrn n.

annm from the deceptive spectacle of
her lover’s association with her rival, Pearl Pan-
ooast had been plunged in the most abject

misery. .

To the ordinary observation, she was merely
iistleu and dull' but her father knew that this
was more signiiicant of entering than would
have been the wildest abandonment of grief.

Ordinarily she would have no to him for
consolation; but this, the first rrier of their
livhes, shut them hopelessly away from each
ot er.

Lyin in her tilted wagon, alone with her do-
spair, s e id no heed to the oils of a mob and
t eexci running of men in their direction
till she heard Owen Adair’s name coupled with a
vindictive oath.

“ We’ve ketched him—the infernal spy! He’s
la in’ fur Cap Pancoast like his father laid fur
O lahoma Payne. The ole man give us the
gap; but we’ll swing him fur the cussednem 0’

th.

One instant the girl lay as if para]

It dawned upon her in a flash t at he had
hasarded his life, not to reach her father, but
to find her!

In that ecstatic moment all else was forgotten
save the fact that he loved her.

With a bound she was out of the wafin. By’
the flare of the flrelight she saw him. ow she
got to him she never knew.

But she had snatched the fatal noose from his
neck. She held him in her arms. It might be
yet alive: it might be dead!

Then came the interference of her father.
And when she realized that he was one with the
rest of them, she faced them and him with
drawn revolvers.

h Jason Pancoast started back with a look of
error.

“ What did I tell ye?" demanded Seth Wend-
over. “ She’s ag'in even you.” '

:: fig’iin’ me—hgggwn flrh an’ blood!”

88 D“ 8115’ Y 3'1 "qu who dares
to lift their hand against one w 11:. never in-
any of on.”

“A spy!” s outed a voice.

“ An assassin, and the son of an aha-in!”

But Jason Pancoast paid no heed to these sup-

porters. ‘
“Ef I’m to knock under by the hand of my

own daughter, all right i” he said. “ Hyar
goes!”

And he gathered himself to spring upon her.

“ Father!” she cried, sharply, “ you shall
never touch him while I am alive-even you !”

But this unnatural conflict was intercepted.

“Hold on, Jase Pancoast!” cried one of his
men—a. young man who would gladly have
competed with Seth Wendover for Pearl’s favor—
aud springing before him he clasped him in an
embrace that few men con (1 have shaken off.

“ Oh, I have one friend !" cried Pearl. “ Hold
him, Aleck! I will never forget your kind-
ness.”

“ Hands off!” shouted Seth Wendover, seizing
Aleck, and trying to pull him away.

“Boys, is this thing to go on?” was Aleck‘s
appeal for en port. “ Air you wantin’ to see
her forced to s oot her own father?”

As if by magic the crowd fell into opposed
factions.

One gathered quickly about Pearl and her
prostrate lover.

She would never forget the kindness of her
friends! That was what brought her such in-
stantaneous sup rt.

But Seth ha his crowd, already instructed
for such a contingency as this. They were
ready to back him in anything he dared venture
upon, more especially as they had the counte-
nance of their chief himself.

There was a brief scuffle, as furious as it was
brief, in which Jason Pancoast, Seth Wend-
over, and Aleck Hoover rolled on the ground in
an inextricable knot of entan led arms and legs.

There was a quick rush of earl’s supporters,
met by a counter—charge from Seth’s partisans.
Then they fell back with Aleck in their midst.

He was bleeding, yet cool-headed enough to
take instant charge of his party.

“ Hold on i" he shouted, throwing up his
hands, as he sprung between the factions, now
arrayed against each other with revolvers brist-
ling in every hand. “ Don’t forget that we are
all friends, an’ before we get through with it we
may have our hands full flghtin for one an-
other, instead of ag’in’ one another. Whatever
is right kin be dcne in cool blood, without our
fallin‘ out over it.”

In spite of this pacific overture, if Seth
Wendover had thea‘said the word, there would
have followed instant bloodshed.

He was backed by the worst characters in the
camp; and in eve company of men there is
such material rea y at the hand of the first
violent agitator.

Jason Pancoast was thoroughly aroused. His
hatred of the son was a continuation of his old
hatred of the father.

More than once they had narrowly escaped a
fatal encounter, Pancoast declaiing that his
enemy always sneaked out of it.

When death overtook him, the survivor swore
that he had sneaked out of life to escape being
kicked out of it by him; so now he would have
wreaked his long-harbored malice on the son,
even if he had to walk over the prostrate body
of his daughter to reach him.

But. Seth’s reluctance to come into open
collision with Pear! curbed him once more.

“Cheese it, Jase!” he Wowled, holding on to
the raging father. “ e can’t afford to be
whipped at this thing. She’s got more with her
thau’s needed to handle us. Let u ; an’ we’ll
set up the ins in better shape next me.”

And we was his influence over a far better
mail than himself, that he was allowed to pre-
vai .

The moment he saw that Paucoa'st couldbe
turned from his purpose, be called off his
backers. .

“ Cheese it, he s!” he said to them, as to his
chief. “Thar a n’t no hurry in this matter.
We ain’t buckin’ag’in’ Pear , ef she has any-
thin’ to as why we shouldn't swing this summer
of! into gory. I ’low as he’s Cap Adair. Ef
that ain’t so. then who is he! and what is he do-
in’ bvar in Jim J imson’s dudsf’

“ Let him be who he may, Captain Adair or
any other,” said Pearl, “I will vouch for his
presence here. He is no spy, nor have you any-

hin to fear from him.”

“ othin’to fear from that bloody robber?”
shouted Jake Sharp, one of Seth’s most violent

rtisans. “.Is he better’n his father! Who
l‘illed Oklahoma Paynei-that’s what I want to

now.

“ Whatever his father may have done, or
may not have done, has nothing to do with the
present case—”

“ It is Cap Adair, then!”

“ I did not say so. It is a rsonal friend of

aging-one for whom I hol myself answer-
a e.
“ Waal,” growled Jim Jimson, “all I’ve got
to say is, of your personal friends all take it in-
to their heads to visit you in this shape, 1 hope
either that thar ain’t man of ’em, or that they
won’t find me out late at n ghtsi”

“ The question is, is it can Adair, or not!" in-
sisted Sh . “Let us have him out ads the
light’ll show him up. Ef it is Cap Adair, you
bet your sweet life he ain’t hyar on no peaceable
errant!” '

“ Fetch him out!” the cry was setup.

“ Let’s look him over by the flrelight.”

 

 

“ I’ll bet two to one, fur ary amount ye dast
to put up, as it‘s Cap. You bet I know him
when I set my peepers on him.”

“ I spotted him myself, the minute his hat
come off.”

“ His first leader give him away. Jim Jim-
80!) never struck out from the shoulder like

1”

“ Bill Blowhard orter be authority on that
subjeck! Haw! haw! haw!”

“ Jerk him out 0’ that, boys l”

The hubbub was increasing. Pearl saw that
if she was to make head against it, she must act
at once.

“ Have I no friends,” she cried, “ to prevent
this outrage? Has not this gentleman been
handled roughly enough by you yet? He has
Woved his ability to meet you one at a time.

ill you again set upon him in a body, like a

k of cowards?”

“ Ef it ain’t Cap Adair, who is it? An’ of it is
Cap Adair, what’s he doin’ hyar?”

“ That’s fair enough. We ain’t jumpin’ on
nobody what ain’t comin’ no shenan n on us.”

“ Put him up whar we kin see im. That
won’t hurt him none.” ,

The fairness of this demand was so evident
that it could not readily be met. Yet Pearl
knew the danger of letting the mob actually see
the man they ated.

Meanwhile, Owen had been recovering from
the eflects of the violence done him.

It was not in his self-helping nature to remain
quiescent while others pleaded his cause.

Struggling to regain his feet, he said:

“ Gentlemen, aIIOw me to speak for myself.”

He was met by opposition from an unexpected
quarter.

“ It is not necessary," objected Pearl. “ The
que’stion is, have I friends who will stand by
me

She sought to create a diversion by bringing
up this new issue, and it was a clever move.
But even her friends had a right to some sort of
ex lanation, where so much was at stake.

t was Aleck Hoover himself who addressed
her, with respectful deprecation.

“ We’re standin’ by you through thick an'
thin, while wood gr0ws an’ water runs," he
said. “ You orter know me by this time; an’ I
say as I’m flghtin’ the crowd single-handed, of it
comes to that. But we’ve got a heap up on
this thing; an’ I hope you won’t lay it up ag’in’
me, of I say as I think you‘d orter give us a
leetle show to see our way clear. Ef this hyar
is Cap Adair, we ought to know it. If it ain’t
Cap Adair, we’d orter kn0w that.”

As if the crowd was willing to rest the case
with one known to be as favorable to her as any
one could be in justice to the others, all stood
silentlmarding the girl.

She irresolute for a moment. Then, a
wave of color sweeping over her pale cheeks,
she asked:

“ And if it is Captain Adair?"

This seeming admission was receiVed in dead
silence.

Their enemy in their midst i—come among
them as a spy !—now, for the flrst time, abso-
lutely in their weri

The girl cho ed, at some thought which her
hearers did not divine, and stammered:

“ 1 should have said, if it were Captain
Adair?’

Aleck Hoover dropped his head, and with his
9. es on the ground and his voice unsteady, re-
p ied humbly:

“ We’d naturally want to know what he was
doin’ hyar, in this shape.”

The girl stood with the flrelight on her face,
so that its every changing expression could be
plainly read.

Every eye was upon her.
ing their scrutiny.

At first the conscious blood dyed her cheeks
scarlet and she seemed to shrink from observa-
tion. at after’a moment thus, she drew her-
self defiantly erect; the blood swept back. leav-
ing her pole as death: and she spoke in atone
unnaturally loud for her.

“ Let him be Captain Adair, or who he may,
he is here for love of me !” she declared. “ For
love of me,” she repeated, “ and for no other
reason. What concern have you in that! Is
this the reception extended by those who pre-
tend to be my friends, to one who comes on such
an errand?”

Once more Owen strove to' get upon his feet,
and ammo his own defense.

“ Let me speak,” he urged. " Not only is—"

But Pearl’s hand pressed him firme down.

“I forbid you to meddle in the matter,” she
said, in a tone of strange sternness. “ My word
is sufllcieut among my friends.”

The crowd was plainly taken aback b this
unexpected explanation, and also pass ed by
something in her manner toward the man who
held such a relation to her as she declared.

There was no escap-

Everybody gaped in astonishment. Only Aleck, ’

Hoover found voice, and he but feebly.

“Bf it is Cap Adai , he ma be foolin’ ye.’
He’s awake in the like h :- father befou
him. What he done at

flauce.

 

 

 

, ashiu’ton shows him 3 .-
u .
pOnce more Pearl spoke loud and clear with de-_- '

Fifi-a" <.‘ .9."

 

  

 

' she not pron
him that she had just discovered his identity.

  m“ upi'msiie‘ii if had roposed h s
, ‘ rtun ty. 6 erse p t at e
’  3513:: to her after the mob was escaped, doubt-
»; Pleas'with a view to giving an opportunity for

a

\1 coldly. “ We will ta

J'lv-m—vv wre<=tu~www weave"... , ~~.~—.—.. 7.. ._,_-... ,

14

Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

 

“ Ask Seth Wendover if what I say is true or
not! He knews that this is no spy. Are you
willing to be the instruments of his personal re-
venge, as against me?"

In that last sentence she overshot the mark.
It roused Seth’s dogged malice.

“I know it is Cap Adair!” he declared. “I
know it was him as swears he carries half 0’ Con-

in his breeches pocket! 1 know it was his
ather as poisoned Oklahoma Payne! I know it
is his money as will pay any one who gives your
own father his quietus! Ef‘ you hain‘t got enough
0’ what I know, i kin give you some more!”

A growl of furious indignation, threatening to
swell into a yell which would demand the death
of the object of its hatred, greeted this speech.

The reference to her father, throwing the
stigma of ingratitude and disloyalty upon her,
was the most venomous thrust of Seth’s retort.

Pearl saw that to counteract the effect of this
she must strike her highest note of appeal.

“ This is the man I love!” she cried. “ The
blow that reaches him must first pierce my heart!
Who among you will strike it?”

She bowed her head, crying with a piteous
tremor of des ir:

“ Strike! trike!”

CHAPTER XII.
LOVE 03. HATE.

THE sound pierced the hearts of those that
loved her, rousing all the chivalry in Aleck
Hoover’s sterling nature.

“ Cap Adair or not,” he cried, “ I’m fur the
man you lore!”

And drawing his revolver once more, in de-
fiance of all who might choose to come in hostil-
ityz he took his stand before her. ~

‘ God bless you!” murmured Pearl, resting
her hand on his shoulder.

Indeed, she leaned heavily against his broad
back, as if at the not of fainting.

The effect was e octric.

“I’m with you ag’in’ the woridi” shouted a
brawny boomer, springing to his side, and stand-
ing shoulder to shoulder with him.

‘ Count me in!”

“ An’ me! It’s a cold day when I git left on
Seth Wendover’s side, ag’ip’ Aleck HooVer.
Come on, boys! Few or many, we’re ’listin’ fur
the war!”

“Aleck Hoover be blowed! It’s Pearl—the
Pearl of Oklahoma—we’re backin’.”

No rallying cry could have been more effec-
tive than this. Almost to a man, save Seth’s

. I immediate folio ers, they came over.

“ Bear a ban hyar. Mack,” said Aleck Hoo-
ver, appealing to one of his friends.

And together they lifted Owen to his feet.

“Friends, I am obliged to you,” was Owen’s
acknOwledgment; “ but, really, Iam not so help—
less as you seem to think.”

“ Whar’s your horse—your own, I mean?
That was Jimson’s you rode into camp wasn’t

it?"
“gives. My own is a little way up the river.”
“ e’ll take you to it; an’ then i reckon you’ll
’lowas we’ve done the squnr’ thing if we turn
you loose to shift fur yourself."

“ Leave him to me, ’ inter Pearl. “Help
me to get clear of the cacti.

i Owen reached out to \ e Pearl’s hand, say-
nfi.Iflt me speak to your—"

“If you please!” interrupted Pearl, with her
head bowed and her eyes on the ground.
What was this strange coldness in her mau-

; ‘ I nor? Did she deliberately avoid letting him take
 her hand; or was it that she did not see his over-
’ i

Perhaps it was only the reaction from the en-

forced avowal of her love before that crowd.
Owen was (puzzled for a moment. Why was
of her love? Then it occurred to

If that was the trouble, this was no place to
He would soon have his

nation and reconciliation.
had strong faith in the 10ve she had de-
clared so bold] y. That would conquer any preju-
dice she mi ht have conceived.
So he yie ded himself to the current of events,
and was led out of the crowd, awn from the

~ camp, to where his horse was tother .

Here he was not delayed to restore Jim J imson’s
clothes; but mounting his own horse he was ac-
' companied by Pearl riding Jimson’s. ,
The moment he was alone with her he pressed
.to her side. .
" My darling!” he murmured. “ Did I do

 "wrong in coming to on? I could not endure to

watt any lpnge'r. but has kept you from our

n ace

"Exguge me, if {on please,” said the girl,
it this matterover presently,

: when we can do so without danger of inter-

. ruption.”

. “Pearl!” he cried. his voice ringing with re-
,onch. “ Is is ble that you can speak to me
that tone 0 voice? Have you kept away

I . ., 1mm me of your own free willi What has hap-
pmed to estrange you! Is it becauseldisap-

4

 

tpointed you once? Do you so easily yieldto
. pi ue?’

here was a touch of indignation in his last
uestion. He felt badly used, or affected to
eel so.

A quiver ran through the girl’s figure, but she
made no reply.

Hurt by her manner, he submitted. They
rode in silence.

Presently Pearl drew rein, as if here she in-
tended to take leave of him.

“ I have a question to ask you," she said,
speaking with evident difficulty. “ I have no
doubt that now you will answer me truly.”

“ It is because I deceived you,” said Owen,
relieved that her words confirmed his su posi-
tion. “ But were not you in a measure to heme?
Why were you so bitterly prejudiced against
me, when you knew nothing at all about me,
save by report!”

She did not look at him. She did not heed
what he said.

“ Will you tell me your name—in full?” she
asked.

“ You know it,” he answered—" Owen Cant—
well Adair.”

A quiver ran through her.

“ Good-by!” she exclaimed, with startling
abruptness.

There was a choke in her voice. As if to es-
cape before breaking down completely, she
wheeled her horse.

But, her lover was at her side at a bound,
with his arms about her. '

“ Pearl l" he ejaculated, “ this is nonsense.
What difference does it make who I am? Is it
not enough that we love each other! Having
seen me, you cannot believe the absurd reports
that are circulated against me. Pearl! Pearl 1"

He ended with amazed protest.

With the energy of rage the girl was tearing
his arms from about her.

“Take your hands off me! Do not dare to
touch me!” she panted. “ Will you force me
to say that I hate you? I do! I do!”

This was not the petulant or with which she
had once before repelled him. be whole ene y
of the woman was thrown into her bitter wor 8.

At first he was for holding her, as he had done
before. But the change in her tones thrilled
through him; and when in the struggle she un-
intentionally struck him in the face, his hands
fell suddenly away, leaving her free.

She uttered a cry of dismay, and for a moment
cowered breathlessiy.

Then her despair stung he" to renewed rage;
and with a hysterical shrillness in her voice,
while tears burst from her eyes, she cried:

“ You liar! you coward! you have forced me
to this! I will never forgive you! I will—”

But unable to proceed further, she again
wheeled her horse and dashed away.

‘ Owen could not lose her so. To him it seemed
unaccountable that she should let her reju-
dices so override every promptin of her eart.

He immediately gave chase, 'an was soon at
her side again. '

But, before he could reach her bridle-rein to
detain her, she drew sharply away, crying:

“ At your peril! I am done with on!”

“ Pearl, you are beside yourself. on cannot
have done with me,” he replied, still persisting
in his determination to force her to listen to
him. “Have you not just declared your love
for me? You belong to me. I refuse to give
you up."

“Kee oil!” she cried, and to his amarement
mena him with her revolver.

He did not for a. moment suppose that, even
in the (to him) inexplicable mood that held pos-
session of her, she would use it against him: and
in his surprise that she should even threaten
him, he did not check his horse.

The animal, used to pursnin the larger game,
required no guidance to to ow anything of
which he was in chase.

The next instant there was an explosion; and
Owen felt the thrill of a bullet plowing his

flesh.

Instinctiveiy he drew rein, though he still sup-
posed that the shot had been accidental.

A cry of horror burst' from Pearl’in , and
the murderous wea n fell from her ban .

She too drew in er horse and wheeled him
so as to bring his head toward Owen.

Then she sat and stared at him, in dumb die
may at her awn act.

“ It is all rightfi’ he mid. “ I know you did
not mean to do it.

The girl did not repl at once, but continued
to regard him with the set look of horror.

He still generously sought to relieve her,
then h he d d not approach.

“ know that, whatever your antipathy to
me, you would not try to do me serious harm.
Let me ex lain that all I have done has been
for love 0 you and in order that I might not
lose you throng your preju-”

W th an impatient wave of the hand she cut
him short. ‘

“ I will not lie to on," she said, " though you
have so baseelg dece ved me. I—”

“ I deoeiv you to give you a chance to know
me as I am,‘ and not—” a

“ Will you listen? I might plead that! did
not attempt your life—that the weapon went

 

off in my hand. That would be giving you lie
for lie.” '

“Pearl 1” he ejaculated, now horrified as she
had been.

“ I would kill you rather than feel the touch
of your hand a n. Will you leave me now'i”

He stared at er in incredulity.

She burst into a sudden passion, so fierce that
it was plain she was determined to leave noth~
ing unsaid that would drive him from her for—
ever.

“Is it not enough that you have made me
loathsome to myself for the rest of my miser-
able lifei Go! go! If I ever pray after this, it
will be to call down the curses of Heaven upon
you!"

Not a word of relentingi She did not seem to
care to know the extent of the wound she had
inflicted. It might be mortal, for aught she
knew.

Slowl the situation sunk into Owen Adair’s
mind. be women he loved had deliberately
sought his life. Her hatred for him, without
knowing him, wasso bitter that it could thus
turn her love to wormwood.

She had loved him. He recalled that delicious
hour when she had plighted heart and hand.
Her kisses, one instant clinging in the abandon—
ment of passion, the next timidly coy; the light
of her eye, now melting, now shy, now spor—
tive; her v01ce, light and bantering, or gliding
through the sinuous cadences of tenderness—
thee: marks of love could not have been simu-
late .

This it was that made the acridity of her re-
sentment. She had been cheated into lovinga
man she detected. And her resentment had
carried her to this extreme—she had sought his
life!

With a dull blending of
ment, Owen turned away.
looking back.

The girl followed him with her eyes; and
when he had quite disappeared in the distance,
never once looking round, she drew in a deep
inhalation, and Without a further sound of
warning, toppled headlong from her horse’s

sin and bewilder-
‘lowly he rode, not

so .

Out of a clear zenith the full moon looked
(llown upon her where she lay, giving no sign of

its.

After a startled bound to one side, her horse
came back, and gazed at her curiously.

His animal intelligence was not e nal to real-
izing' what had happened; and w era a dog
would have whined with sympathy, his interest
soon waned, and he fell to nibbling the grass,
patiently waiting for his mistress to require his
further services when she needed them.

Hours passed. The moon dipped below the
horizon as the sun rose. Two horsemen ap-
proached the spot. They had been following
the trail since dayli ht, but at sight of the ,graz—
ing horse the: aban oned the more tedious pro-
cess, and das ed'toward him.

In spite of his anger toward her, Jason Pan- .

coast had been devoured with anxiety for his
daughter.

" She’s run away with that bound 2” he do-
clared. “ Why didn’t you let me foller him up,
and plant him out you in the perairie?”

“ She ain’t run off,” Seth insisted-“ don’t on
fret. Can’t you see that the only chance of or
gittin’ ovar this is to leave her to give him the
sack herself l We’ll plant him all the same; but
she mustn’t see our hand in it.”

When day broke, however, without her re-
turn, Panooast would be detained no longer.

They found her still where she had fallen.

The slow-moving hours had brought her back
to consciousness; but she lay there in a dull-
apathy.

Even when they rode up, she paid no heed to
them. They s ke to her, but she only looked
at them vacant y, and closed her eyes.

Seth Wendover had sense enough not to rouse
her to he could not guess what outburst of pas-
sion by ode-ring to touch her. He left her
father to lift her to her feet. _

She submitted to whatever he did for her;
but instead of repliving to him when he spoke,
she only sighed, an moved uneasily.

“ Page her in the-saddle, of she kin ride,” sugb

th.
This was done; and though she took no inter.
est in directing the horse, she proved able to sit

erect.

So she rode back to the cam p, never speaking,
never so much as lifting her eyes.

“That devil has bewitched her i” growled her
father, after he had in vain appealed to herto
know whether Owen had oifered her any in-

dignity.

“ Don’t be a fool,” rotested Seth. “ He’s
treated her all right. on let her go her own
gait, an’ she'll come out 0’ this in time, better’n
you kin fetch her out by anythin’ you kin do."

“ I’ll have his blood, curse him!” was all that
Jasoln Pancoast answered, in low, rumbling gut-
tura s.

Returned to the camp, Pearl straightway ‘

retired to the seclusion of her tilted wagon,
there to lie all day with her eyes closed. It was
impossible to tell whether she slept or not. -
Seth said very little to any one but Jason
Pancoast, but on him urged masterly inactivity.

 

{it

‘3

 

 

J  the A Cattle King. V

15

 

 

He went away from the camp, no one knew
whither. But to himself he was repeating Ada
Savoy’s recommendation:

“ If you want an ally, go to Colonel Flood !”

An ally l—an ally against Owen Adair.

Repeating this to himself, Seth rode away
with murder in his heart.

CHATTER XIII.
COLONEL FLOOD.

SETH “'ENDOVER was well enough p05ted to
know that all was not harmony in the councils
of the Cattle Kings.

Colonel Flood, a Kentuckian, the most violent
and recklesa of them all, had gathered about
him a company of kindred spirits, who needed
only a leader to be ready for almost any recourse
to retain their hold upon the rich pasture lands
they had seized upon, without warrant save the
complaisance of the army officers.

It was through his machinations that the
odium of certain intrigues in “ the Third House”
of Congress fell u n Owen Adair. He it was
who stood on of Sight behind the screen, pulling
the wires, w ile his puppets danced before the
public gaze.

All went on very smoothly, till the colonel,
finding that he had opponents quite as rascally
as himself, and beginning to scent defeat, trans-
ferred his talents from the field of diplomacy
go—

But let him speak for himself.

“ Them hounds air bound to beat us at our
own game!” he declared, accruing to gloss his
rascally methods before friend or foe. “If
we’ve bought up half 0’ Congress, they’ve
bought u the other half: and, blank ’em, they’ve
corrup our half. The thing’s goin’ through
in spite of our teeth, an’ these {pro beggars will
soon be amusing themselves by ‘ckin us oi! the

land. That is to say, they will i we don’t

.mighty soon adept more stringent measures.

The trouble is, we ve got a lot 0’ puling milksops
in our crowd that turn faint at the I! ht of a
sore toe. I wish this thing was in old aiutuck.
We’d clean ’em out in short meter!"

Observing the effect of this feeler and others
of the same sort, the colonel was not long in
pickin out the men to whom he could open his
mind reelyu .

Owen Adair showed no sympathy with his
an action. He had never been quite satisfied
with the irregularities at Washington, so much
as he knew of them. He would have been less
satisfied with the part he had been led to play,
if he had known more. '

He had been used as a gentlemauly a re-
head, while less scrupulous underlings di the
dirt work.

hen it came to talk of introducing the
methods of eastern Kentucky and southern Mis-
souri and Arkansas into the struggle, there was
no doubt as to his position.

“ Blank his finnikiu’ gentility!” snarled lonel
Flood, “he’s too nice for this wicked wo . The
question is, air we all to pay for his fiddlin’
strictly moral hymn-tunes for our dancin’i I
say that I, for one, am in this thing on business
principles. I herd cattle for the money there is

n it; an’ I propose to grab all the law allows,
an’ a little more too. I hate an open enemy, but
a squeamish friend I do despise! I say this kid-
gloved gent is in the way.”

“ What’s the reason we can’t ahead an’
not let him into the thing!" asked y Meir”.
ter, a henchmen of the colonel’s.

‘ He’s behind the scene—too near,” objected
thtee o’clonel. “He’d email us out, sooner or

r.
“An’ give us awa too!” interjected Barry
with an ugly scowl. y, ’

“ Remove him—that’s the safe way,” suggest-
ed.Con Fretlaw another of the colonel’s choice
spirits, who had been eying his master to know
when to give utterance to the thought he knew
was skulkin in his mind.

“ Look a- yere, gentlemen,” in Rock
Beale, a man who was counted “safe,” though
Flood did not carry him in his breaches
“ I can stand a pretty drastic dose. lien it
comes to ldyin’ out one 0’ these infernal tram ,
I’m with ya. But Adair is a gentleman and. a
scholar, a white man through an’through. He’s
one of our crowd an’ an ornamental one, too, as
well as useful. e ropes in these hrocaded army
officers in a wa that is jest lovely. We don t

want to play is so low down on Adair, I tell '

on.”

“Oh, Con means all ri ht,” was the colonel’s
auurance. “ He wouldn’t art a hair of his head.
No more would I. But if he was to take a tri
a little further West-for his health, say- 13

$3qu bemoney in your pocket, and in mine,

“. What do on to to
med Beale y P M do with himi”

“Nothing,” answered the colonel 1
“only pray the Lord, if it is Wigizh
His al-wise purposes, to translate him to a
wider sphere of usefulnem.”

“Do you fancy your prayer is likely to be

answered?”
“ I don’t know. I never tried.”

There the matter dro pad for the time: but,
e was alone with
to ask:

some time later, when
the colonel took occasio

    

 

 

“ I su pose, if Adair was to get promoted by
a mob 0 these hyere tramps, you would be will-
ing to join in avenging him, while you mourned
his loss?”

“ I would so,” replied Beale, his anSWer really
implying that he would institute no over-nice
inqu1sition beneath surface appearances, if some
day Owen was a victim seemingly to the
violence of the common enemy.

“ He might be spirited off, an’ no further
harm come to him,” suggested Flood. “ I have
nothin’ against him in self. I’d fight for him
as soon as for anybody know.”

This was the state of things when Seth Wend-
over presented himself to Colonel Flood.

The colonel receivod him with rather pompous
condescension.

“Well, sir!
serve?"

Now, while this address made Seth in a
measure ill at ease. yet be generally considered
himself as good as another; and, instead of
causing him to truckle, it roused his dogged de-
fiance.

“ That jest depends,” he re lied with a swag-
ger. “The question is, whet er I’ve found the
man I’m lookin’ after.” "

“ May I ask who that is?”

“ I hain’t no perlite way 0’ ea in’ what I
mean. I hate beatin’ about the bus -—”

“ You needn’t beat about the bush with me;
and I’ll only trouble you for the ordinary court-
es one entleman accords another.”

‘ Waa , then, I’m lookin’ for a man what
hates Cap Adair like p’ison!”

“ O—o—oh!” breathed the colonel, suddenly
contracting his eyes.

Without break, he added:

“ A particular‘friend of mine.”

“ Cap Adair is?”

“ Certainly. I knew his father before him;
and father and son, have known nothing but
good of them.”

“Be on lyin’ to me, pardneri”

“ Eh; I beg your pardon! Did I understand

whom have I the honor to

you?”
“ You’re standin’ me off.”
“ That is better. I understand you to retract

your former implication?”

“ You beat me at slingin’ the DictionaryA boss.
Ef you can’t talk United States, we’ll ve to
throw up the job.”

“ You said something about a lie. Do you
understand that?”

“ That’s plain enou h.”

“Well, you probab y know what an apology
is, if not a retraction.

“ Oh, you want me to take it back?”

“ It is a matter of indifference to me. I am
quite out of ractice with these instruments,
and would as ieve keep my hand in on you as
on an one else.”

An the colonel politely tendered Seth one of
his revolvers, appending:

“ Unless you prefer to use our own.”

“ Look a-hyar, boss,” sai Seth, not offering
to accept the weapon, “I didn’t come hyar to

uarrel with on. Ef I had, you bet your sweet
life we woul n’t have had so many words about
it. Ef our stomach is so blamed squeamish,
I’m wil n’ to take the lie back, an’ git right
down to business.”

“ Very well, sir. Let us hear your business.”

“ You hate Owen Adair, an’ so do L The
question is, air you willin’ to down him! Ef
you don’t want to put our own hand to it. will

ou tell me how the th ng is to be done! What
stand" fur, is that my tracks must be covered

“the”: .. u

“ a ,e n co reparedtote you
that, 0’ course I wouldnmhyar.”

“Certainly not. Go ahead, sir.”

‘: Iran: lSleth Wendogeg.” an is“

‘ ora urposeso i on cation oum
as well he ohn Smith.” ’ y

“ Give me time. I’m comin’ down to bed rock
before I quit. You know Jase Pancoasti”

“ Ah! Jason Paucoasti I have the honor to
have heard of him.”

“ Waal I’m his right bower.”

“ Seth Wendover, the subordinate of Jason
Pancoast. Very .”

“ I might as well let you 'into the straizht 0'
this thing 90’s thar won’t be no no blunderin’ in
the dark. Jase he’s got a daughter what I’m
after. Cap Adair has cut in an’ scooped me
higher’n a kite. Thar ain’t no goin’ back on
that. Yer humble sarvant ain’t nowhar.”

“ Oho! Adairhas get after a boomer’s daugh-
terl So much the worse for her.”

“ Hold on, boss. He’s on the squar’——-that’s
the worst of it. Ef hewasn’t, I could shoot him,
an’ have the thing over an’, done with.”

lCol'onel Flood bowed agent, but smiled incred-
u ous y.

“The point is, you want to get rid of Adair,
and are willing to do it in any way that will not
compromise you with this rustic beauty!”

i “ hat’s puttin’ it in better shape’n I could put
t m
“

self.”
t there is this boomer and his pretty daugh-
er

“Hold on, Cap! You don’t want to give
that away.”

“Ah! In hiding!

/

 

 

“ I didn’t say so.”

“ Adair must know.”

“ He ain’t like to give it away, if he does.”

“ Are you sure of that?”

“lSure of it! I’m sure he’s dead gone on the
ir .’

g “ And she on him?”

“ Was], that’s been a mite of a fallin’ out be-
tween ’em, an’ that’s a fact."

And Seth told the story of Owen’s courtship,
adding:

“ But that kin be easy made up, ef he don’t
drop out between two days. That’s the reason
I’ve come to you jest at this time.”

“mBy the way, how did you happen to think of
me. ’

fith hesitated a moment. But he owed Ada
nothing, and he was the kind of a man who
would sell anybody out for his own advantage.

“ I was put on to you by one 0’ your partic’lar
friends.”

“ Indeed! But this
one?”

“ A woman visitin’ at Fort Reno.”

“ Miss Browning? Im ible!”

“ Not her. The eitifi woman with her.”

“ Miss Savoy i”

“ That’s the one.”

“ But what did she say to you.”

“ ‘ When you want a hacker ag’in’ Cap Adair,
call on Colonel F'lood.’ ”

“ Hm! Hm! She must be observing.”

“ She’s got you dewn fine, boss."

“ And her interest in the matter?”

“ She’s gone on Adair herself—”

“ And our rustic beauty has supplanted her!
is it possible? I should like to see what this
backwoods belle looks like. She must be a
beaut indeed.”

“ on may bet your boots on it, boss. But
est you keep yer hands off. Be you goin’ to
elp me to bounce Cap Adair: or bain’t you?”

“You will get your answer in the course of
our conversation. Does your affection for the
daughter extend to the fatheri”

“ Eh! I don’t drop to you, boss.”

“ To get the girl you wish to dispose of Adair.
Now, suppose it were necessary, in getting rid of
Adair, to first sacrifice old man Pancoast.
Would on do it!”

“ Go ack on my rd 1”

“ Not only that. sold you balk our whole
company, and give up even such a oothold as
you onrself have in Oklahoma?”

“ urn my own fingers? What do you take
me fur?” '

“ A man very much in love. A man bound to
have the woman he has set his heart upon, no
matter what it costs.”

“ I am so, pardner——ef thar’s blood in it!”

“ Blood !—somebody’s else blood! But are you
willing to sacrifice your own pocket—your prop-
erty interests!”

Seth dropped his aw.

“Bah, man!” sco ed the colonel. “What is
it worth, after all! Haven‘t you had experience
enough in the hopelessness of your seusless raids!
You know well enou b that the scouts will
smell you out sooner or ater: and then good~by
to your claims.”

‘ Smell us out! Let ’em do it! I tell you thar’ll
be blood come 0’ this, before you snoozers rout
us out 0’ land that we’ve got as good a right to
as you have—an’ a blame sight better!”

‘ Right! Pish! Right has gone West! Are
you in our cradle yeti Have you come to me
tobe to d that it is money and brains that run
this worldi I’m not the puling rascal to cloak
a clever swindle with a coward y lie; so proclaim
openly that we buy our right—as you call it—
to what we hold, money down .’ And as long as
we've got the ready to plank, we’ll hold on to
all we’ve get. When you can outbid us, then
it will be time to talk. That’s business.”

I have friends, then?

" But we’ll pit our powder an’ lead ag’in’ your  .

money!”

“ In welcome! A generous Government sup-
plies us with soldiers, whom we turn over to
you to practice u . It will be amusement for
us to watch the ght, over our cigars and wine.”

:: ‘VYVou 't away with me in chin-music, hon.”

e

while, whats the use of
gamei-you individually, mean.
section you’ve got your eye on—”
“ I’ve got my foot on i, boss!”
“ Very well. It isn’t worth a re .

our layin aloai
p The? quartu‘n‘

all get away with you in everything. 
It is only a question offline—and money. Meat» '

You can‘t A,

keep our'foot on it. Now, what the reason»

you dn’t turn an honest penpfi', and get your‘

t:nievei;”ize and your sweetheart, at the same
me

“How kin I do it!” ' v

“Put the soldiers onto a certain boomers’ if

cainp, Igd hgve them run out—-”

I o _ '
“ oldyon! Who will be supposed to have
'ven information!
dn’t he penetrate to your camp? Didn’t he

Who but Owen Adaiflf

get away with no particular love for the lot of '

you!
reason for silence, will ithe hard to

such follows as you are that his 

was likely to he revengei Come, comet
thing is made to vour hand.

thisg‘irl, don’t you!” I

You stillwant-

Haviug broken with the girl, his one\

u .mnw w»- -«.\~—.w

 

 

3.-.... .._..v——....-.....,,—.—v. V.. . ...... .. _

16

I Captain Adair,~the Cattle 

 

“ I’ll have her, if I have to wade in blood to
git her!"

“Of course you will. And you have a nice
little company of backers, I’ll venture to say.”

“ I’ve got a crowd what will stand by me.”

“ Through thick or thin?”

“You bet."

“ And not particularly squeamish as to what
you have for them to do?"

“ They don’t gag at nothin’, of I give the
Word."

“ gravided you can satisfy them that it will
pay.

“ Waal. they ain’t in this world fur nothin’.
Thanks ’u’d starve a cat.”

" Exactly. Well, now, these are just the sort
of fellows you want to help you get the girl
you’re after, and to get rid of your rival at the
same time. To begin with, you might as well
give up the idea of trying to coax her into an
affection for you.”

“ If we’re once shut 0’ Cap—”

“ Nonsense! You don’t believe that, even
while you say it. The girl has rejected you for
Adair. I ask you, in all honesty, if you think
that she is likely to turn from such a fellow as
he to such a fellow as you! Come, now! put
your vanity into your pocket. We’re talkin

usiness. Ve have an end to accomplish. An'
to scoompli<h that end we have got to look facts
in the face, whether we like it or not. Accord~
ing to your story, this quarrel is nothing. The

'1‘] is as much in love with Adair now as ever.

t is her very love that makes her so fierce. If
you get her at all, you will have to do it by
playing upon this passion. I believe you can get
her through it. But if that fails on certainly
can’t get her in any other way. ' ill you take
her so?”

“ I’ll take her any way I kin git herl”

“Very well. Listen to what I propose.”

 

[CHAPTER XIV.
AN OPENING PLOT.

WHATEVER. Colonel Flood’s plot, Seth Wend-
over rode away from his interview with the fire—
eating Cattle King with a look of dogged deter-
mination and reckless defiance on his fees, and
in his eneral manner the swagger of a man who
had so d himself to the devil.

That night passed as usual with the boomers,
but the cam was roused in the morning by a

unshot, an those earliest astir were startled
by the sight of the sentinel running in from his
past in 'a great state of excitement.

It was just at the break of dawn, the hour of
all hours for a surprise.

“The soldiers! the soldiers l” shouted the sen-

t 0

1n a moment all was in wildest confusion, in
the midst of which Jason Pancoast appeared in
his trowsers and boots, with of course, his never-
failing revolvers strapped a ut his waist.

His stentorian voice made itself heard in every
Bart of the camp, and soon his rapid orders had

rought order out of chaos.

Like well~drilled soldiers his men sprung to
their posts, and forming a line along the threat-
ened side of their camp, presented a very credit-
able front to the enemy.

Warned of! by this hostile array, Ma 'or Brown-
ing halted his men, and rode forwa alone for
a parley.

Jason Pancoast strode forth to meet him, his
rifle resting in the hollow of. his arm.

Just _at that moment he was not of very pre-
possess. ing a pearance.

The disor er of his dress consisted in nothing
save the absence of his hat; for he as often went
about without a coat as with one. Yet there
was an indescribable something about him which
marked a man hastil roused from his bed: and
the black frown on is face seemed to indicate
that he had awaked to no beneficent ofllce.

Major Browning saluted him with soldier-like
formality; a courtesy which he acknowledged
with only a churlish grunt.

“ I have the honor to address Captain Pan~

“ That’s my name, stranger.”

“ It is my duty to look into the legality of
your presence in this Territory—you and the
men under you.”

di“,1” hain‘t no papers, stranger, only gun-wad-

n .

“ It then becomes my duty to escort you and
your company back over the border.”

“I reckon I’ll see how many men you’ve got
to do it with. They may be as good as mine,
an}, fur man; but they ain’t a blame sight bet-

“ Of course you will ise the folly of
.any attempt at resistance. wish to show you
every courtesy and consideration; but it is need-
less to remind you that whatever force is
needed to dislod you will be brought against
you, if you conc ude to try so hopeless an experi-
ment.”

“ ill you tell me who has give us away?”

“ That is no part of m ofllce. I am actin
under orders. My duty begins and ends wit
For anything fur-

egs of ad-

lookiug after your trespass.

ther, you have. of course, the privi

dressing oursslf to head uarters ”
Jasou ancoast growl

out something iiot ale

 

together complimentary to the source of author-
ity indicated, which Major Browning wisely
ignored.

Of course there was really nothing to be said.
Once detected, he could not array himself against
the force of the whole United States.

So the boomer chieftain ate his humble-pie
with what grace he could.

“ I reckon you’ll give me time to talk this
over with in men,” he said.

Of course ajor Browning knew that he was
only letting himself down easy.

“ You Will be permitted a reasonable time to
prepare to move,” he answered.

“ We may make it up amongst us to take a
stand, an‘ fight it out on this line. I reckon your
pets an’ their backers in Congress won’t hark to
nothin’ but rifle-shots in the end. A poor man
is a dog in this country. We can’t wine you,
an’ We can’t dine you, but we kin let some blame
had blood out 0’ you one 0’ these days i”

“ You will not be disturbed before noon; but
at one o’clock I expect you to be ready to start,”
answered the soldier, with unperturbed dignity.

With an inarticulate growl, the boomer chief-
tain turned 9n his heel and went back to his
men.

The council that followed consisted chiefly of
execrations, about equally distributed among
the cattle kings, our country’s venal statesmen,
and the spy who had betrayed the camp.

That this last was Owen Adair, no one for a
moment questioned.

“ I want every man h ar to swear to shoot the
cuss on sighti” growled ason Pancoast.

The res use was quite general, thou h in-
formal. 0 one regarded it as a pledge. t was
only an expression of hatred.

“Vl'e’d orter fixed him while we had him in
hand, an’ all this hyar would ’a’ been spared,”
said Jake Sharp. ‘ You wouldn’t listen to me.
Waal, you’ve got it in your soup, that’s all i”

“ Thar’s a snivelin’ crowd in this hyar cam
what orter ’a‘ been cleaned out long ago,
growled Seth, with an evil eye on Aleck Hoovm'.

‘ Who’s goin’ to s uar’ with me fur the land I’m
euchered out of? last my hide of I don’t git
even with somebody, first or last 1”

Now, Aleck Hoover had no rticular relish
for a personal encounter with eth Wendover.
Yet he was not a man who would submit to be
openéy badgered.

“ fthat means me,” he retorted, “ I always
pay my debts. What I done, I done, an’ I’m
ready to stand by it. The man don’t stand in
shoe-leather to say as I bear any love to Cap
Adair, without gettin’ the lie in his teeth. But
I’m backin’ the one as I did back, while wood
grows an’ water runs; an’ ef ary man ’lows as I
owe him anythin’ fur that, he kin step up an’ git
his small change whenevor it’s most convenient
fur him.”

“ Blast you i” growled Seth, “ whar’d we be
now, but fur you?”

This challenge was like a clarion-blast of war,
or, to lower the figure, like the snarling of one
dog in a group.

Instant y Seth’s usual hackers showed signs of
aggression. Not only did the emulate their
leader in scowling blackly at A eck Hoover and
the men who were presumably his friends; but
by a concerted movement they an to separ-
ate from the promiscuous crow , and gather
about their chief.

But in the impending quarrel be it not for-
gotten that Aleck represented the cause of
Pearl; and it is therefore not stran that the
hostility to him roused a counter spirit in those
who had sided with him on the day before.

Without a rallying cry the two factions fell
apart; and weapons yaped
magic.

But just as bloodshed was imminent a figure
flashed between the two rties.

It was Pearl, yet so c nged that one would
scarcely recognise her.

She who had been the picture of bloomin
health was now pale, with a flaming t o
lcioloz in either cheek, and eyes unna y bril-

an

“ Stop l” she cried. “ Is it not bad enough,
but we must fall out among ourselves? I alone
am responsible for what has happened. Jr in
any way on could better matters by sacrillc-
ing me, would offer myself to your reven
But can any good come of your playing into t e
hands of our enemies, by comp otln your de-
struction through internal strife? bag of you
to give over this madness, join hands anew, arid
flgh them till justice is secured. If the oppor-
tunit ever offers for me to repair my error
you may depend that no personal feeling wil
stand in the way of my embracing it. If ever
again one of these conscienceless scoundrels falls
into your hands, I shall not be the one to deter
you from mating out to him his just deserts.”

Much more she said in that hurried address;
but it mattered little what she said. so long as
she gave Beth an excuse for backing out of the

. cunflict he had provoked.

He had had no intention of precipitatinga
quarrel. His only purpose was to d vert sus-
picion from himself by appearing ontra ed.

Sulkil enough. in appearance, he caled of!
his bull ogs; and of course Aleck had no wish
for strife.

into view as if by,

 

Altogether it was not an enviable company
that prepared to break camp at one o’clock.

Escorted by the soldiers, whose leader pre-
vented more than one outbreak between them
and the chagrined boomers, Jason Pancoast and
his men withdrew from the prohibited terri-
tory, till they stood once more on the soil of
Kansas. ,

Then follOWed days of smoldering hatred, in
which it required all of Jason Pancoast’s tact
and authority to keep his company toge.” er.

Many who had sprung so promptly to Pearl’s
aid were now dissatisfied with themselves, and
with Aleck Hoover for his appeal to them.

If Pearl had been her old self, she might have
won them over by her bright presence. But
she was now invisible within her tilted wagon,
or when she appeared for brief moments was so
dejected as to cast a gloom over all who saw
her. Those who were strongest in tneir old alle-
giance were bitterest against Owen Adair, the
cause of all her unhappiness.

Seth Weiidover left the camp with a squad
of his most trusted henchmen. It .was supposed
by those not in the secret of his movements, that
he was engaged in making pr0vision for their
living while they waited for the opening of the
'l‘erritory, or for a more promising chance to
raid it again.

Clear of the camp, however, he revealed him-
self to the men he had chosen. .

“ Boys, I’ve picked you out because I ’10de
as you wasn’t blame fools, an’ could listen to
reason when you hyeared it. I’ve been thinkin’

'this hyar thing over sence we first laid our-

selves out for to buck ag’in’ the cattle kings aii’
their money, an’ I reckon some 0’ the rest 0’
you has gone over the same ground, each in his
own way.

“ Now I’m ’lowin’ to give you what I make 0’
the thing, an’ give it to ye short an’ sWeet; an’

hyar you have it—it’s all blame rot! We’ve-

been ’lowin’ as all a squatter had to do was to
ketch on an’ hang on. Waal, that thing goes
sometimes, when ye only got the sheriff to reck-
on with; but when it’s soldiers, it’s a boss of
another color. I tell you, an’ you kin believe
me or not, that ‘nobody don’t (go into Oklahoma,
an’ stay thar till the Presi out says we kin!
Then what’s the use 0’ this hyar raidin’? You
hyear moi—we’re foolin’ away our time!

“ Ef we’ve got to wait, then what’s to bender
our usin’ the time to put a few gilders in our

ets?”
“ The want of a chance,” spoke up one of his

men.

“ Ef I give you the chance, how many is fur
standin’ by me through thick an' thin!”

This form of his question put them at a
stan .

“Is it road-agentin’?” asked the same ready
speaker, with a grin.

“It ain’t road-a entin’. But what if it was?
Woul on in r it!"

“ W i, never tried in
But somethin’s got to be
suddent.”

“ It ain’t road-agentin’; but thar may be a
loud call fur Judge Lynch in it before we git
through.”

“ Nothin’ venture, nothin' have i”

“ So say you, all of you?"

There was a tolerany general agent, though
some hung back.

“ It’s to git square with Ca Adair; an’ we’re
to have mighty tall backin’. hat do you say
to that"

There was no doubtful sound in their heart
response now. One and all were eager to “git
squar’ with Cap Adair.”

“ That v ain’t all,” pursued Seth. “ Sn pose
you have to cut loose from Cap Pancoast

“ Ef we tie to a better leader’n him, why not?”
asked Jake Sharp.

“ You tie to me, of that’ll do ve,” said Seth.

“ That’s good enough fur ins,” answered Jake.
“ I only speak fur one.”

“ Me fur another,” broke in Jim Jimson, who
was of the party.

“gs-p Pancoast never kept us in much more’n

hand that way.
id, an’ that mighty

p3 An’ mighty slim kin’s at that i”
There was a chorus of discontent with

the result: of ancoast’s leadership.

“ Then who goes in with me, make or break?”
cried Seth, his vanity hugely puffed up at the
pros .t of independent authority.

“ mt is that in it?” demanded Larry o‘ Lar-

amle.

“ Fifty dollars down, an’ maybe more, of we
come out all right.”

“ Done. fur one i”

From this prompt use the others took
their cue, and the cnthn asm waxed in a way
very flattering to Seth.

“ Whoop ’er up, boys, fur Cap Wendover!”
shouted Jake Sharp.

And the air wrung with their cheers.

“ I’m obliged to Em, pardsi” said Seth. flushed
with pleasure. “ 1 do the best I kin b you
always. But we don’t gointo this thing w thout
pl 'dges, ye understand. One squander might
make some u I; work fur the rest. ’

“ Fast bin , ast find i” quoted Sharp. “ While

ou’re about it, you might as well clinch it as

ight as if it was road-agentiu’. That’ll leave us

 

i
(

 

 

- S". , gt 3’ 

“a... Adair, agent. King.

17

 

 

margin to circulate in,"an’ it won’t hurt to have
it, even if we don’t want to use it.”

Seth presented his bowie-knife.

“ Swear on this,” he said. “ This tells its own
story.”

And each one knew that be forfeited his life in
case of treachery.

Then Seth o eiied his plan to them, the plot
Colonel Flood ad conceived.

CHAPTER XV.
A TRANSFER OF ALLEGIANCE.

THE flight of the unhappy Ada Savoy from
the scene of her great humiliation was as nearly
frantic as could well be. v

What might have been its termination, had
she been left to herself, it Were impossible to
say. In such a mood an accidental suggestion
iiii ht have led to suicide.

gut Owen pursued till he overtook her, when
she was overcome by a paroxysm of wild weep-

1n .

§othing could have been better. When she
had wept to exhaustion, the storm of emotion
was allayed. The apathy that followed left no
cause for immediate apprehension.

Accompanying her to within sight of the Fort,
Owen left her to run the gantlet of prying curi-
osity alone.

Of course she could do this best unaccom-
panied. A vail baffled the soldiers whbm she
had to pass; and her friends were considerate
enough not to intercept her on her way to her
room.

After a day during which the plea of a head-
ache explained her non-appearauce, she came
forth from her seclusion, looking exceeding] y
pale, at making a brave effort toresume her
old ii 9. .

Now elf Ethel had a chance to show her tact
and kindness of heart.

Ignoring those few days in which she had
been shut out from her friend’s confidence, she
set herself to (“Vi‘rt Ada from the pain which so
evidently overshadowed her.

In this she was gladly assisted by Carl Berk-
hardt, who devoted himself to her so assidu-
ously that he who ran might read his “ inten-
tions."

Outwardly the old ga ety was resumed; only
Ethel had to keep on t e lookout for riods of
blank abstraction which fell over her riend.

Then the delicate ingenuity with which she
called a wan smile of interest to Ada’s lips, won
for herself golden tributes of admiration from
her devoted slave, Berkhardt.

So came the day when Owen Adair rode awa
from his- estranged love with a heart that fe t
like a stone in his breast.

The woman for whom he would willingly have
laid down his life, if her welfare had demanded
the sacrifice, had deliberately tried to take it
with her own hand.

“ A woman? A she-wolf!" he said to himself,
in a throe of indignant resentment. “ It is her
savage jealousy coupled with her senseless pre-
Judice. She thinks that, because I broke tryst
With her, it must be through the allurements of
her rival; and when she learns who I am, that
settles the matter. She will not listen to a word
of explanation. Lies! lies! lies!”

He mimicked her fierce repudiation, and then
ground his teeth with pain.

“Her original hatred of me would not have
driven her to such lengths. That makes her
willin to believe any ill of me; but it is her
tigeris" jealousy that would make her a mur—
mur—

He balked on the word “ murderem." The
three of pain it cost him forced the tears into his
eyes.

The more rugged races account it unmauly to
shed tears over physical sud ; but thefitout-
est heart may melt- without ion of dignity over
some ‘ound of the spirit.

However, no tears fell from Owen Adair’s
eyes. They became humid; but the fire of his
resentment seemed to burn them dry again.

“A fool—-a confounded fool from the first!”
was his, bitter self-accusation. “ What did I
know about her? At a glance of ssion and an
outburst of jealousy, I cast myse at her feet; I
am read to risk life—worsel—the whole peace
of my H e! To think of it! The very first pro-
fession of lava was a tirade of jealous suspicion!
It serves me right! I ought to be pilloried with
a fool’s cap, for the whole world to laugh at l”

Then there arose in his imagination a con-
trasting icture.

“ She oved me, and I scorned her!” he said,
recalling the look in Ada Savoy’s eyes when she
first gazed at him with her lips glowing with his
first and only kiss.

It was perhaps natural that he dropped some-
thing out of view in both pictures.

Had not there been moments when Pearl
charmed him with glances of pure tenderness?
Had not the lightnings of Ada’s scorn rivaled
Pearl’s hitterest invective?

But a sore heart is apt to play us queer tricks.
waft» remember only what falls in with our
m

 

It was at this critical moment that Owen
Adair, riding aimlessly about the prairie till
broad daylight, fleeing the demons of thought,
emerged from a chaparral upon the open plain,

 

to come face to face with a cavalcade skimming
the prairie in the gayest spirits.

His first impulse was to shun this party so out
of harmony with his mood. But it was too
late. He was seen and recognized. Carl Berk-
hardt greeted him with a about. In a moment
more he was surrounded.

“ Well met! well met, old fellow! We were
wanting just one more to complete our party;
and the gods have sent us the best at their com-
mand.”

Berkhardt had his friend by the hand, and
glanced significantly from him to Ada Savoy.

“ I’ll bet a little something that I can see as
far into a grindstone as some others!” he was
flattering himself. “ If Adair can‘t bring her
ladyship back to earth from those dreamy
flights of hers, then nobody can, according to my
notion.”

He glanced at Ethel, for approval of his
cleverness.

He encountered a look of dismay and indig-
nant condemnation.

“ Was there ever such a stupid?” she was say-
ing to herself. “ As if it were not unlucky
enough to run pell-mell into him like this!
‘ There is a destiny that shapes our ends rough,’
as the immcrtal Mark hath it. At any rate,
she will haVe a chance to show him that she
isn’t wearing the willow. I wish I could stand
in her shoes for one blessed hour. I’d show him
a thing or two. But that addlepated fellow of
mine! I have a mind to cut his acquaintancc.”

“ Eh?” ejaculated Carl, looking at her in-
quiringly.

She turned away from him, and greeted Owen
as if she were as charmed as Carl over his ap-
pearance.

“ Oh, yes, Mr. Adair. We Were just wishing
that you were of the party. We are having such
a glorious time. Only we insist on your riding
something a little more civilized than a broncho
in his primitive state.”

“ Speaking of bron os.” interpose Berkhardt,
“ you haven t got ver that last dash on the
Lightnin Express. You’ll have to treat your-
self a litt e better. Eh? By Jove! what’s this?
You have been hurt? I thought you were look-
ing unusual white.”

“ It is nothing "answered Owen, impatiently-

drawing his ban awa .
h “fut, my dear to ow!” expostulated Berk.
or t.

“ You won’t make much of a ranchero if you
cry over every little drop of blood,” said Owen,
with a laugh.

Then, thrusting into his coat the hand from
which the blood was dripping, he lifted his hat
with the other, and with a touch of 'the spur
anded his horse up to Ada, who had dropped

or eyes, and sat with white lips and palpitating
heart awaiting his greeting.

“ This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Ada,”
he said, in his old cordial manner.

The girl lifted her eyes, and saw something in
{its that sent the blood back to her cheeks and

ips. '
“ It is mutual,” she responded.

And so wonderful is the self-control of woman
when brought to bay, that she smiled radiantly.

A single glance at her, and Ethel took her

cue.

" Forward!” she cried. “ We have no time for
civilities. We are to beon the crest of that butte
when the sun crosses the meridian, Mr. Adair,
or I lose a box of gloves.”

“ Hold on !" interposed Berkhardt, with a laugh.
“ That isn’t a full stop, but on] a comma.”

“‘1 don’t understand you, sir, ’ said Ethel, with
a reproving glance at her escort.

But Carl was in too gay spirit: to be repressed.

“ You have omitted a clause beginning with
the coordinate conjunction.”

“ I leave you to the niceties of grammar,” re—
sponded Ethel, with a toes of her head. “M
education was always defective in that branch.

“ Let me re ir the deficiency as we go
alon ,” pro Carl.

" think it better to. give your attention to
your horse. It will serve you right if he un-
seats on.”

taking the lead, she waved her hand to
the others to follow.

In a moment the were strung out in a double
line, each lady hav ng an escort at her side.

It wasnot difficult, and it was in full accord
with Ethel's intentions, for Owen and Ada to
fetch up the rear.

" What was the matter? Did I put my foot
into it in some unaccountable way?” asked Berk-
hardt, in a tone which showed that he and Ethel
were approaching a‘significant confidential un-
derstanding.

“ Your oot!” scoffed Ethel. Make it both
feet. And such feet !”

“ But what could be nicer than to bring them
together again, and in that accidental way! I
thought you said—”

" I never said anything 1”

“ Well, I must have guessed it, then.”

“ I think you did.”

“ But aren’t you glad the thing came about!"

“ No. I’m furious.”

“ What? And you smiled on him like an
angel.” ‘

“ Don’t I smile on everybody like an angeli”

I

 

“ On everybody but me.”

“ 1 could bite you, ou’re so stupid.”

“ But just look at t em. They’re—”

“ Don’t you dare to look round. I forbid you,
sirl I’ll never speak to you again!”

“ I‘d rather be turned into a pillar of salt!”
laughed Carl, who was not greatly dismayed by
her threats.

Meanwhile Owen Adair and Ada Savoy were
trying to affect an ease which neither of them
fe t.

They talked of everything in sight, just as the
others did, with the same conventional words of
enthusiastic admiration and enjoyment.

But when they got among the hills, how was
it that they lagged so far behind, and finally got
off the trail altogether!

At first Ada was nervous] anxious to keep
near her companions; but w en it becamca

rent that Owen wished otherwise she gradua -

y yielded, the color coming and oing in her
cheeks, and her furtive glances see ng his face
in uiringly.

hich of them was it that first drew rein?
It was in the midst of a Chaparral. They could
hear the voices of their companions, and the
sharp clang of the horses’ boots, from time to
time as they toiled up the steeps; but they
could see no one, and could n0t be seen.

They sat their horses face to face, looking
into each other’s eyes.

There was a burning light in Owen’s eyes
which Ada had never seen there before, not
even when he openly admired her at the begin-
nin of their acquaintance—before his meeting
wit Pearl.

It made the girl’s heart flutter in her bosom
like a captive bird.

“ Well!” uttered Owen, at last.

She gave a start, as if his voice had broken
some spell.

“ We seem to have lost the path,” the ven-
tured, almost in a whisper. “ Hadn’t we better
re «)in the others?"

he did not seem to feel the inconsistency of
her observation, and the question that imme-
diaiel (0110wed it.

“ ad we better?” asked Owen, in a voice that
thrilled her again.

“ Hadu’t we?” she repeated, helplessly.

With a touch of the spur he forced his horse a
step forward, so as to bring himself close to her
side.

“ Ada!" he uttered, bending toward her.

“ Oh, no! no! no!” she panted, drawing away
from him in sudden trepidation.

Then, recovering herself with a strong effort:

“ You have no right to speak to me like this!
Let us go at once.”

“ I do not deserve the privilege of speaking to

on like this,” amended Owen, gravaly. “ I
have been a blind foo ”

He came to an embarrassed pause, as if at a
loss for words in which to clothe his feelings.
Pit his eyes spoke an appeal over which his lips

a tered

The girl flushed scarlet, then turned as pale as
death. Up to her heart went her hand, and she
fairly reeled in her seat.

“ Ada !" he cried.

And at a bound he was out of the saddle and
at her side.

“ No! no! no!” she protested, struggling to
free herself from the supporting arm he threw
about her. “ Do not touch me! You have no
right! on have no right!”

‘ On {you can §ive me the right!” be lead-
ed. “ isten! ou cast your pearls fore
swine. But my punishment has been swift and
effective. I hare come to my senses. I never
should have known what love-a true woman’s
love—was really worth, if this had not hap ned.
But I do know now. And must I lose it just as
I have learned its value? Ada, you are heart-
sore. 80am 1. Can you, with your own suffer-
ing so recent, condemn me to the like for one
moment of fatal blindness

The girl had ceased to ggle. It seemed as
if she were on the point of sinking into' his arms
from sheer w ass.

But still she strove to maintain her womanl
dignity. Her pride was not so utterly crush
gilt she would welcome him under any condi-

on.

“ You chose with our eyes open,” she urged.
“ You preferred ano er. Go to her! You be-
lOIlBg to her, not to me!”

ut there was a sob in her voice which pro-
ss ed submission in the and.

‘ Do not mention her!” said Owen, bitterly,
almost with a shudder. “ I must have been
mad. I have reaped the fruit of my infatuation.
I have come to you for—for—”

“ Consolation! You have (Handed with her?"

“ I will not deceive you! ave not I always
been frank! She attempted my life
hour ago!”

“ And you—you—”

The girl choked with sudden rage, but recov-
ering with a fierceeffort, went on:

“ You would make me the instrument of your
Equal You are a famous lover! Your gal—

ntry is ualed only by your discretion!”

And she urat into a hysterical laugh.

“ I have not sought to be wise nor polite, but
only truthful,” he pleaded, humbly. “ Ada.

scarcelyan

 

 flat-e ".0;an 

 

 

 

18

Captain Adair, the. Cattle King. I

 

 

you have loved; you still love; and love for-
gives everything."

“Everything to love,” she admitted. “But
do you fancy, whatever my infatuation, that it
is so besotted that I would consent to salve your
wounded vanity? You chose with your eyes
0 en 3”

But, despite her insistence, there wasa ring
in her voice which betrayed the anguish his
choice still caused her.

“ And do you think that it is only hurt vanity
with me?" he asked, with his sad eyes on hers.

Of a sudden she broke down. Love conquered
all else. With an inarticulate cry of passion,
she threw her arms about his neck.

“ Kill me,” she cried, “if this is a dream like
the other! Never let me wake from it! Oh,
my love! my love! my love!” ~

‘ You never shall I” he promised her, scarcely
permitted to breathe for her kisses.

In that moment he told himself that he was a
happy man—a deliriously happy one, he put it.
But wh did he keep saying it again and again,
even in ignantly, as if protesting against a de-
risive smile of incredulityf What was that fine
thread of pain with which his intoxication
seemed intershotl ,

Ada Savoy was not a girl to give herself by
halves. Anyosfwctator would have thought that
Owen had g reason for being satisfied with
the award of fate.

So radiant was his face, so ardent his protes-
tations, that Ada was satisfied that all her heart
craved was hers.

With a man’s clumsiness. he sou ht to explain
further; but she stopped his lips in a way that
fond lovers know.

“ Not another word of her, now or ever!” she
insisted, in a way that reminded him of that
scene with Pearl when she had expressed the
same sentiment in almost the identical words.
“ Let us turn down that page in our existence.
I shall always believe it was only an ugly dream.
But, haven’t we been long enough awaly from
the others? Oh, my darling!” su denly c asping
him again to her, “ it is one of the sacrifices we
must constantly make to the world, till—till—
the world gives us leave tofor et it! But we
shall have to tell them. I can’t h de the change
in me—I don’t want to hide it—and they will
ex t an explanation.”

‘ They shall have it,” answered Owen. “ They
can’t be half so curious as I am eager to pro-
claim m good fortune to ods and men.”

They aughed delighte< y into each other’s
eyes, and honestly thought that their love was
complete.

It was “catching a heart in the rebound,”——a
dan erous game always.

“ claim your congratulations!” cried Owen,
as they overtook their companions.

“ Oh, you treasure!” e‘aculated Ethel, almost
dragging Ads. and herse f out of their saddleqin
the exuberance of her delight.

The others were profuse enough in their con-

atulations, after which they managed to
eavtabthe lovers to their happiness as much as
poss e.

“ ho!” chuckled Carl Berkhardt, when he
got Miss Ethel b herself, “ the astuteness of the
emale mind—w at do they call itf—intuition—
as compared to the clumsiness of a horrid man,
in matters of the heart—"

“ That will do, sir, if you please! Do you be-
lieve in signs, the nnlnc number thirteen pre-
sentlments spilling of as. t, etc., or do you eave
such foolish philosophy to the weakness of the
female mind, with your lordly explanation of
coincidences!”

“ Do you mean to rob me of my mood of

raise? Do you call this a lucky accident? I
ran ht them together with a grace that ban-
ish all awkwardness, and fairly greased the
wa to an understanding between them; you
ed me a bun ler and a marplot for my
1.0! fate ec des between us; and you
scofl coincidence]. ounghlady, when I have a
legal right to whi you wi a ad as big as my
thumb—good Eng ish Common w, you know—
.I’ll have a sweet revenge i"

‘LtWPhen’ you have the right! If you have the

All of which shows that Berkhardt was put-
tin in his time to some purpoae.

ever was there a ayer party than that which
suddenly came upon olonel Flood.

To none of them all was his greeting so mark-

edly defeiential as to Ada Savoy. But as he

lifted his head after bendi over her hand, his
eyes sought hers with a smi e of irony.

The girl started, flushed painfully, and then
turned as is as death.

Why di she draw so near toOwen’s side after
that? Why did she hover about him! Why did

her eyes rest upon him with mingled deprecation

and anxiety?

The colonel was unusually jocular. He did
not look at her. All felt that the Kentuckian
was a pleasant companion when his mood was
not crossed.

I

 

CHAPTER XVI.
unrnisrorsltns.
Sunni") like the fa bled MephisMpheles, Colo-

» nel Flotd insisted on the party’s honoring his
Ranch with at least an hour’s rest.”

 

 

Suspecting nothing, Ethel accepted his invi-
tation on behalf of the others with great on-
thusiasm.

“ The very thing! I, for one, have been just
dying to see those famous horses of old Kain-
tuck! Would you believe it, when I have been
your neighbor so long without going to see?”

“ I am reparcd to believe anything pleasant
of Major growning’s charming sister,” respond-
ed the colonel, with his mOst elaborate bow.

“ But you never invited me, you know,”
pleaded Ethel, in extenuation.

‘1‘ From difiidence, believe me!” said the colo-
ne .

“ Oh, you are too bad i” laughed Ethel, blush-
ing a little, however, with pleasure.

‘ I appeal to Miss Savoy. She knows the
World, and must have discovered the signs of
modesty in me.”

The gallant colonel turned his smile upon Ada.
Hi3 slow eyes thrilled her with their sinister
irony.
lthel wondered at seeing her flush and then
turn pale.

“ I have thought Colonel Flood a gentleman
of the old school,” she said.

What was there so uncertain, almost plead-
ing, in her voice?

“ My vanity ought to be sated with so pretty
a compliment,” he said. “ Should I forfeit the
title by asking you what virtues I must culti-
vate to merit ts continuance?”

“ Courage and—and magnanimity, I believe,
wierenamong the characteristics of that exem-
p ar.

The girl lifted her eyes to his face, hung a mo-
ment breathlessly in his gaze, and then dropped
them again.

She had tried to answer lightly. Her words
were well enough, but her voice and manner
puzzled Ethel.

“ What has she against the colonel!" she asked
herself. “ Ithink him just 5 lendidl”

She did not see the expre on of the colonel’s
eyes as he answered:

“ Ehui I thought I had an easier task than
that. I had an impression that what would be
chiefly required of me, to sustain the character,
was admiration of the ladies.”

Ada struggled to prevent her companions

from seeing the shiver that ran through her at .

these apparently simple words.

She was eatly relieved when Owen Adair in-
terposed w th:

‘ Come, come, colonel! you’re an old sinner!
I hadn’t thought it necessay to look after you;
but i begin to think that you will bear watch-

in .”

E If all-your friends would bear it so well, my
bo - But there! _Modesty bids me forbear.”

'{hey all laughed, Ada: smiling wanly, and in
the Babel of badinage that was showered on the
colonel, attention was diverted from her.

As if to escape the merry assault, Colonel
Flood spurred his horse into a run, to stop only
when he stood. hat in hand, to welcome them to
his humble roof-tree, as he called it.

etreaterl his guests to a bountiful dinner,
wit good wine at the finish, and ci ars for the
devotees of “ the weed.” Then he s owed them
about the place parading his blooded horses
with evident pride.

“ Oh, we must have a race!” cried Ethel. “ I
will bet on that beautiful creature !”

“ Without first seeing her put through her
paces, Miss Ethel?” ,

“ For shame! To doubt such a paragon of her
kind! I take her on trust.”

“ Do you take people on trust in the same
way!”

‘ Wh , of course!” ‘

" An you are never disappointed!”

“ In my friends! Never! They are all—de-
lightful!” "

'Not equally delightful!” whispered Berk-
hardt in her ear. z

He was rewarded with a peremptory:

it  "9

And, strange to say, he appeared quite well
content with what he got for his pains.

“ You are to be env ,” said the colonel. “ I
in self ’have occasionally found appearances de-
ce tfu .

“ Oh, you cynic!” cried Ethel, holding up her
finger at “ the blasphemer,” as she called him.

‘ It's time.you were married again. colonel,”
inter-{posed Carl Berkhardt. “ Ask Adair!”

E erybody laughed at this. fling, so si ifi-
gantly that Colonel Flood looked inquiring y at

wen. .

“ 1 hope to set you a goodexample at an edrly
date,” said Owen, accepting the situation with a.
good grace. “ I bespeak your congratulations.”

The colonel’s glance went to Ada‘s face, rest-
ing there with that smile of his which seemed
confined to the eves. '

“ I will say,” be r nded slowly, “ that I
env you—with all my cart!”

AH: took oi! his hat, with a profound bow to
do

The ion , slow sweep of his obeisancs seemed
to draw a l the blood out of the girl’s face. It
was with difloulty that she acknowledged his
compliment. .

“Now you are taking things on faith, colo-
nel," interposed a little whipper-snapper, with

 

 

less discretion than eagerness not to be wholly
lost sight of. “You hardly know Miss Savoy,
you know.”

The faint smile of polite ackn0wledgment with
which this speech was received was sufficient of
itself to convince the chatterer that he had been
inspired by some malicious (lemon.

The colonel completed his discomfort by turn—
ing upon him with that ceremonious politeness
which is known as “ sitting down ” on one. .

“ Sir, there are self-evident truths, which
nobody thinks of questioning.”

It did not need the quick turning away of all
faces to point the sting in the speaker’s stress of
mice.

Colonel Flood prided himself on being “ severe
and parliamentary at the same time,” and this
little opportunity put him in good humor.

But Ada Savoy turned sick at heart.

She scarce! followed the preparations for the
race with which the colonel was glad to gratify
his guests.

It seemed to her as if she wei’e shut in, op-
ressed by stifling air. The mere vicinity of
er host crushed her.

“Oh, if I could get away!” she cried within
herself. “ What is the baleful influence that
man is exercising over me? What right has he
to look at me so? What is the covert menace in
his voice! What is be waiting to do to me? Oh,
I fear him! He is cruel and deadly l”

“ What is it, in darling!” asked Owen, sud-
denly, as it seem to her. “Are you ill?"

The girl started violently.

“'th am I betraying myself?” was her inward

. ‘ Do the suspect—anything?”
he turned or eyes to her lover’s with such a
look that he drew near to her, takin her hand.

“ It is like ice !” he exclaimed. " hy did you
not tell me? Ada!”

“I am a little tired,” she admitted, wearily.
“ Don’t makea scene, please. It is nothin .”

“There is no need of disturbing the ot ers,”
he said, “ nor yet sacrificing you. We can steal
away together. Nothing will be thought of
that!”

He smiled as he alluded to their new relation,
which made it their privilege to be alone.

“ Oh, you are so good to me!” she breathed.
“ If we could—for a moment.”

“ We can—for all our lives!” he replied,
affecting a lover’s enthusiasm, and surprised to
feel that there was a subtle flavor of hypocrisy
about it.

He would not admit that it be an and ended
at his lips; yet it seemed to him ikea speech of
formal gallantry, and not an impulsive heart-

c .

er am an infernal scoundrell” he thought.
" What will our life be, if I have to begin by
lying to her? Oh, what an idiot I am! Of
course I shall love my wife, as other men do. I
am not the only man who was ever deceived,
and yet found his happiness after all. Such
love as hers will be irresistible.”

Could he shut his eyes to the folly of such a
ho ! He was building on sand indeed!

Iris never difficult for lovers to slip away
from a company that is in a turmoil of pleasure-
able activit . If they were seen, who was
there to cha lenge them?

Owen found a retreat shaded and shut in by
the dense foliage of cottonwoods, where a 12 ring
of crystal started from under an emerald ank,
toripple away for the first rt of its course
free from the trampling of ca tle.

Here Ada bored her heart to him with such
yearnin passion that he assured himself again
and age n that he ought to be, that he was a
hop y man.

by did she so hang in his embrace! Why
did her eyes so cling to his! Why the pleading
cadences of her voice!

“ She is afraid that I may be won away from
her again !” he said to himself. “ God hdp me
and her too! she has reason for her distrust of
me! What a weather-cock I am! Even in
her arms, I am hardly certain of in self."

As if fearful that this would be or first and
last opportunity, the woman (poured out her
love for him in a flood of wor s_ and caresses,
hungrily making demand u n him for recipro-
cation; and be, all the whi e conscious that he
was urged beyond the s ntaneous outgoing of
his fee in simulated} 6 words and endear-
ments of a over, stopping at nothing to satisfy
her craving for assurance of his love.

It would have been better to exercise more
reserve; for when overwrought, she at last
beg ed him to leave her to recover her self-pos-
sess on alone. he first pleaded a desire never to
leave her for a moment, yet finally went with
a feeling of relief. ,

Commanding himself fer the rebound ofhls
spirits, be jomed the others, plungin into the
gayety of their sports with feverish a ndon.

He did not notice Colonel Flood. In the ex-
citement of the racing eve one to their
host, or sup him somew ere abou , though
unseen fort e moment.

But he had slipped away from them all' and
Ada yet lay on t e bank with her face hidden
in her hands, as she had cast herself in the
throa of anguish at Owen’s departure, when his
hurried. imperious footstep startled her into
quivering alerth .

 

 

l
"I
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floafitain Adair, the Cattle King.

19

 

 

As one who awaits a blow, she cowered before
him, her hands pressed to her bosom, her eyes
pleading with him for mercy.

Not a sound issued from her tremulous lips,
though she seemed to essay to speak.

“ Well?” he said at last, standing over her
with folded arms, and looking down upon her
with his Mephistophelean smile.

She rallied with a sudden burst of anger born

of dWeration.

“ hat do you want of me? Why do you
look at me as you do? What is the meaning of
your sneers? will not endure it! I—I—”

But she broke down, overcome by a sense of
terror and utter helplessness.

“Madam, I pretest!” ejaculated the colonel.
“ You know that I am your adoring slave. Do

ou' need more assurances? I will play the

over, if that will convince you—”

“Stand back! Do not dare to touch me! I
will scream for help! Ah! this is insuifer-
able!”

“ For one who contemplates screaming for
help, you speak very guardedly. If you were to
scream, as you sa , and your friends—and
enemies: eVen you ve enemies, you know—
were to throng about, what should you tell
them?"

The girl, who had half started up to avoid him,
covered her face with her hands, and with a sob
sunk back upon the grass mound.

“ What have you say to them?” she asked,
with a shudder.

“ Ii Nothing! What should I say?”

His afi'ectation of wonder was tantalizin in
the extreme. It was amore deadly menace t an
if he had threatened her in words. Then she
would have known what to fear. As it was
what was the twoedged sword of malice he held
suspended over her?

‘ And have you nothing to say to me?” she
asked, shrinking from, yet longing to know the
worst.

“ Much l” he answered, with a sharp com-
pression of the li which boded her no good.

“ Spare me!” 3 e petitioned. “ I cannot bear
much.”

“ Why do you plead to me?” he demanded.

“ Because you are so ruthless. I see it in your
eyes. Your voice betrays it.”

“ But why should you fear my malice, grant-
ing that I harbor it? What am I to you?”

“ Nothingl—less than nothing!” she cried, with
desperate hatred.

And she glanced at him as if she could have
killed him, had she dared.

He laughed.

“I had hoped to be your husband,” he said,
with a look of retrospective musing.

“ Never!” she interposed, fiercely.

“ There is no need of such energy,” he replied.
‘f That is a hope buried with other wrecks of my
life—broken dreams, dispelled illusions!”

h And he laughed, a laugh not pleasant to
ear.

“ But what ist his new combination in your

kaleidoscogzi—bright prism of hope!”

And his sphi helean smile returned.

The girl wrung or hands in an agony of

“ Shall you interfere?” she nted.
“ I? Am I not a gentlemalgg’
“ What have lyou to say to me, then!”

' "Only to ca your attention to whatsssms
likely to escape your notice.”
“ ad that?”

“You have reconsidered your decision with
reference to this lover of even unusual incon-
stancy.”

“ I do not understand you.”

“ Then why do.-you100k so dismayedi How-
ever, I am willing to make my meani clear.
On second thong t, you have conclud not to
rob the little boomer, at least till there has been
a reasonable time for a reconciliation ”

The girl sprung to her feet, like d tigress at

(Y' - -
You will do this cruel thing!" she asked with
“Iii'iwrbrifim' H x s ’
or d it eaven at you— u will
do it. Come! come! fair play’s a jewye?! Put
yourself in her lace. Do you countonlosing
your lover at every little spat?”
“ What interest have you in this girl!”
“None whatever, since 1 have never seen her,
never heard of her—but once.”
xéfiou hIave  her, them" .
nce spea 0 er with inn-1h H w
should I otherwise?” mm o
figmm whom?” t B
hats my score . at m inform"; is
liable—I assure you of that." y t m.
And he laughed: at first slightly, than with an
oultllggrst, as if at some sunning incident m.
ca .
11'}! you icare noyt‘héng faring—W
here nom . ry. y Interest 1. in
To have you subjected to the fickle whims £19“;
fellow who changes sweethearts between two
kisses! Think of it! Why,I should not be a
friend if I did not—” '
“There is no call for your concern. I take
the risk upon myself.”
Why lead so futilelyl Why pretend to in-
ret is sarcasm literallyl
‘ With woman’s generous infatuation!” he

 

laughed. “ But it is the part of a friend—a
true friend—”

“ Then you command this sacrifice?” she cried,
passionately.

“ You will make it, for the wisdom of it,” he
answered, with affected ravity.

“ And if I do not?—-if defy you ?”

“An impossible hypothesis. You see, a wo-
man is a creature of sentiment, where a man is
thoroughly practical. A man wants possession
—that, or nothing. A Woman, if she cannot
have her heart’s desire, would rather lose' it
gracefully.

“ And do you fancy I will submit—"

“ To have your lost lover look back with re-
gret, rather than with—”

“ With what?—-with what?”

Likea grinning devil he pierced her to the
heart with a single word:

“ Horror l”

The girl gave a sharp gasp and sunk to the
ground.

“ Betrayed! betrayed l” she whispered hoarse-

y.

With her hand pressed over her heart and her
eyes closed, she leaned against the trunk of the
cottonwood which overhung the spot, clinging
des rately to her ebbing consciousness.

hen she had partly gained the mastery, she
struggled to her knees, and extending her
clasped hands unsealed her languid eyelids.

Speech wou d have been useless to her bad she
been equal to it. She stared into vacancy.
Mephistopheles was gone.

Anxious at her long delay, Owen went in
quest of her, to find her lying on her face in-
sensible. _

CHAPTER XVII.
THE CAPTURE.

OWEN Anna’s first impulse was prompted by

alarm, his second by the force of social train-
ing. ,
Out of consideration for Ada’s feelings a scene
must be avoided if possible. So he first sought
to revive her unaided, and soon held her Weep-
ing in his arms. .

Why did she cling to him so, while she as-
sured him that it was nothing—absolutely noth-
ing? She thanked him for his discretion in not
attracting the notice of the others, and as soon
as she was somewhat composed, went and min-
gled with the company.

He accepted her explanation of over-excite-
ment; but in the days that followed, that hung
about her which filled him with perplexity.

In vain did he assure himself that he was a
happy man. He would have challenged to mor-
tal combat any one who had flouted him with
the charge that he was not.

For one thing, Ada had no cause to complain
of wantof devotion. He was most assiduous in
his attentions. If she had not been so blinded
by passion, she might hava detected something
a most remorseful in his exuberance of tender-

ness.

The Very soldiers at the Fort got to smiling at
his a preach.

“ say, Bill,” laughed a sentry, as he met his
fellow at the turn it: their boats, “ here’s his nibs
ag‘in! The leetle woman must be a-feelin’ bet-
tar’n she did last week.”

“ A heap,” responded Bill.
will ye?”

“ H'stl Here’s the ole man i”

And they walked apart with stony gravity on
the appearance of the officer of the guard.

While in Ada’s company, Owen was as ga
and gallant as a lover need be: but alone, gar-
lopin over the prairie to his home, he was now
feve shly excited, now gloom -browed with
despondency. For miles and mi eshe rode, with
clinched teeth. -

v “ What is the matter with me? I am a cow-
ardly hound! Is it possible I do not know my
own mind? I will shoot myself if I end by break-
in her heart. How she loves me!”

ow she loved him indeed—yet as one who
held his love with a feeli of constant in-
securit , livin in the blissf present, deliber-
ate! s utting er eyes to the im nding future.

'I‘ ose eyes haunted him, an the pathetic
cadences of her voice. It was not reproach in
them. but an undercurrent of unutterable
sorrow.

Not that she was sad. On the contrary, she
was gay. But it was the yety that touches
no sympathetic chord of gla hes; a gayety sad-
der than tears; the gayety, as we have said, of
one who makes the most of the present.

But it was the unstinted quality of her af-
fection that cut Owen to the soul. She gave all,
grateful for the slightest return, demanding
nothing as her right.

Why was not t is enough for_happiness‘l Why
was he not satisfied!

“ What in the name of all the furies do I
want?" he asked himself, on at the unap-
peased craving that haunted h .

And it must be admitted that he swore more
than one lusty oath, than which nothing could
be more futile. ,

It was while in such a mood, riding across the
prairie in the darkness not far from midnig‘igfi
that his horse suddenly threw up his head
snorted, stopping stock-still.

“ Give us a chaw,

 

Taken so completely unawares as to be almost
thrown out of the saddle up on the animal’s
neck, Owen recovered his balance, and said

soothingly:
“Eh, boy? VVhat’s the matter? Steady, old
fellow! It must be a rattler, or maybe a co-

He sought to rein the animal to one side, and
go on; but at that moment he heard a hurtling
sound close about his ears, and the bight of a
lasso settled down over him.

Luckily it encircled the cantle of his saddle. so
that when his horse reared and swerved back-
ward, it imprisoned him, instead of plucking
him from his seat.

Owen had not shared the life of his own cow-
boys so long and, so intimately without coming
to know a lasso as if by instinct. ,

By an automatic motion, not waiting for the
conscious bidding of his will, his hand plucked
forth his bowie, and inserted its keen blade be-
tween the rope and his thigh.

The yells of his would-be captors had hardly
startled his ears, the movement of his horse was
scarcely checked, when he was free, with rein
and spur turninavthe animal for flight.

“It is Seth endover!" he said to himself.
“ He means to murder me yet! Does he think
that l betrayed him to Browning? Does she be-
lieve it of me, I wonder?”

Why did his thoughts revert to Pearl—ever to
Pearl? She was lost to him; he was bound to-
another. What mattered her esteem?

Besides, it was a moment for action, not for
reflection. Liberty, life, hung in the balance!

Away he sped. and at his heels came the blood-
thirsty rout, pell-mell. .

“ Head him off thar, Jim! Be you asleep?
Blast your dirty hide! ef he gits away— Down
him! down him, I say!”

Owen saw a shadcwvy figure making for him
at an angle. It was p sin that he had run into
an ambush. On the other side too he heard the
quick thud of hoofs.

Out came his revolver. Its flash burnt a hole
in the darkness. A gasp, an execration, and
J im’s horse careered riderless.

To the left a dusky figure swung its shadowy
arm aloft.

That meant another lasso. Even his enemies.
Owen would not kill without ruth.

A shot at the horse, and the whole phantom
seemed to drop dawn into the earth.

Then yells of rage, blending with shouts in
command, made the night hideous.

Away! away! he knew not whither. Al
directions were alike in that Cimmerian gloom.
All! ways led out of th.trap into which he had
fa len.

But at his heels thundered an enemy who knew
his own purposes, and would not waver from
th

em.
“ Fetch the boss! Fill him full 0’ lcadl’
shouteda voice the fugitive could not fail to

recognize.

As he had surmised, it was Seth Wendover.

The discarded lover must have been aspirate,
or sure of his quarry, to so recklessly tray
himself.

Setting the example to his abandoned crew, he

ed fire. to be followed by them without a
moment’s hesitation.

It was a perfect fusillade. There was nochance
to escape it, even with the advantage of dark-
ness.

Owen knew that he was lost, before he felt his
horse leap with the sting of the leaden hail.

A mad bound. a scream of pain, r and ter-
{or, and the horse went down, I'lddl with hul-

ets.

Kicking his feet free of the stirrups, the rider
leaped over the pummel of his saddle as he would
have vaulted over a post.

The shock of alighting threw him upon his
knees. though he struck fairly on his feet- and
he was in imminent peril of being tramp! un—
der the boots of his pursuers’ horses. .

“ He’s down! We've got him! Pull up! pull
up!” yelled Seth. suitin the action to the word.
“ Look out fur him! e’ll try to give us the
slip (yet. Oi! yer bosses! You can’t see him in
the ark from the saddle. Look sharp fur his
crawlin’ away in the ”

Drawn sharply up on their hannches. the horses
of the enemy scat dirt all over Owen. He
was in their very midst. A chance blow with
one of those iron-bound hoofs might disable him

He would have taken a hint from Seth’s shrew:
forecasting of possibilities, but he must escan
the nearest danger first.

Forced to his feet to dodge the avalanche of
homflesh, he found himself encompassed by
men who leaped to the ground all about him.

He had the one advantage of being indistingu-
ishable from his enemies. In the darknessa man
counted for a man. be he friend or foe.

Ina moment all was confusion, the outlaws
seizing one another by mistake.

Wr ng in a desperate grapple, he who was.
being overcome shouting for assistance, there
was danger that the very headlong fury of the

assailants would defeat their object, and give "

their victim a chance to escape.

Owen knocked dawn the one man who seemed
tohave kept his eye “Son him. It was Sdh
himself, though Owen id not know it at the

 

 

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‘20

time. Then he dro ped upon his knees, and
crept under the be ly of a horse whose restive
tramping threatened to cripple him, if not
worse.

Coming out on the other side he met a foe,
who guessed at his identity from his move-
ments.

“ yar he is, fellers! I’ve got him!”

To his cost! Owen had him. Clasping him
about the knees, he rose with him and threw
him over his head, such a pretty somerset that
he landed fairly on his head, at the risk of his
neck. He heard the crack, saw stars, and was
out of the battle.

Again sinking upon his knees, Owen scram-
bled away, now with some faint hopes of suc-
cess.

But at this critical moment Seth proved him-
self equal to the emergency.

“Let every teller shout his own name!” he
cried. “Boys, go fur the silent one. Never
mind the name, but go by the sound 0’ the
voice. You all know one another. He’ll have
to'give himself away.”

he result was an immediate recognition of
antagonists who were struggling with might
and main to capture each other.

This discovery was followed by a moment of
paralysis, in which all seemed to feel that they
were to be hopeleSSly baffled.

But once more Seth’s fertility of resource met
the difficulty.

“Scatter!” he cried. “He’s crawlin’ off in
the grass. Keep shoutin’, each his own name,
80’s we won’t git mixed ag’in. Drop on to any-
thin’ you find crawlin’, an’ yell fur help. Ten
dollars to the one as spots him. Remember!
it’s a hangin’ matter. Don’t all go in a lumpl”

Acting promptly on their leader’s suggestion,
one of their number ran upon Owen before he
had one twenty aces.

“ yar he is, fe lers! This way! Shell I drop
him?”

“No! no!” commanded Seth.
him!”

The fugitive was forced to his feet and he
showed that he was as good at running as at
cree iug.

“ e’ll shake us all! Shell Idrop him?” re-

ted the one who had discovered him.

“ No! no!” insisted Seth. “ To hoss! Half a
dozen of ye into the saddle! Head him 01!!
Stick to him, Bob! We’ll bag thesnoozer before
he’s much older.”

The flight, though so gallantly prosecuted, was
hopeless. Almost in a moment Owen was sur-
rounded again.

“Keep off! keep off!” ‘10!)th Seth, who had
himself sought the saddle. “ We don’t want him
to come the same dod e on us ag’in. Keep him
surrounded—that’s you have to do—till I git
a show.”

But Owen resolved to give them more lively
occupation than that.

Seeing that he was discovered, and this time
not likely to be lost; and expecting no mercy at
the hands of his enem , once captured; be de-
termined to sell his lfe or liberty, whichever
was in peril, at the highest possible figure.

Continuing to run at full speed, he opened fire
on his enemies, shooting at those who were be-
fore him, heading him off.

He emptied two saddles: when, no longer re
gardful of their leader’s wishes, the sought per-
sonal safety by returning the comp iment.

The bullets were soon whistling about him in
the liveliest kind of fashion.

He felt more than one twinge, though none of
them brought him to the flound; when Seth,
seeing his purpose about to defeated by the
killing of the victim he sought to take alive,
shouted: V

“Lasso him! Curse you! be you all goin’
back on me?”

, This suggestion was promptly acted upon'
and sudden! Owen felt himself tripped an
thrown head orig.

The next instant a horse was pulled sharply
up, scattering the dirt over him as he lay; and
yelling with triumph 'Seth leaped from t 0 sad-
dle and precipitated himself upon him, shout-

in :

9‘ Let up! He’s my meat! I’ve got him, blast
his liver an’ li hts!"

Owen lost h s revolver in his fall; but it was
«alto give him a hand free to seek his bowie.

e struggle that followed might have been a
desperate one for Seth Wendover, had not his
adversary’s left arm been entangled in one of
the two nooses that had been thrown at him.

As it was, be aired both hands to save
himself from receiv ng a mortal wound. Owen
was not disarmed and secured till others came
to their leader’s assistance.

It will be remembered that, recently recover-
ed from his tumble from the heck of an un-
broken broncho, Owen had gone to the rough
handling of the mob in the boomers’ camp.
Searcer recovered from the elects of this, he
was now once more taxed to the extent of his
endurance by the‘ lusty radian who had grap-
pled him, while his very life was being drained

hrough several wounds which he had received.

When he lay at last at their mercy he was
\ about as nearly dead as a man could well be and

let hang on to life. '

“Jump onto

' the lor

 

Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

At any rate the fight was effectually taken
out of him.

He lay with closed eyes, breathing heavily
scarcely able tolift an arm, even i they had
not bound him.

Seth stood over him panting and swearing
with nervous excitement.

“ Blast me ef he ain’t a good one! I will say
that,” he observed, shakin his head and rub-
bing his hands. “Boys, I’izl remember you fur
this. I wanted him alive, an’ we’ve got him.
We’ve ot hiiiil” be repeated, exultantly, “ by

dgHarry! Ha! ha! ha!”

 

CHAPTER XVIII.
A rmxmsn ACT.

“ CAP,” interposed one of his men, “ you will
excuse me; but gitfin’ Hn’ keepin’ is two mighty
diflerent things—they be so!”

“ What’s the matter with keepin’ him?” do-
manded Seth, angrily, as if the speaker were
about to rob him.

“ With all the pleasure in life, fur me!” said
the fellow. “ But suppose you leave him to bleed
to death?"

“ Eh! Blast him, he can’t do that.”

“ I’ll bet on he’s got my mark on him; an’ of
he has, it’s ig er’n a. cider ta .”

" What fur izl 'ou salt him? Didn’t I tell
you I wanted him ickin’?”

“ It was my pard as he was blazin’ at. I did-
n’t ’low to give him too man chances.”

“ I’ll come back at ou ate, ef the chance
offers,” said his pard. ‘ All the same, he didn’t
let none of the ruddy out 0’ me.”

“Jimmy Fair hadn’t the same good luck, I
reckon,” suggested another.

“ Hold on, boys,” here cried Seth. “Strike a
light. Let’s look this chap over. If you’ve
flummuxed him, you’ve knoc ed the whole thin
in the head—that’s all. One 0’ these days you’l
l’arn as, when I talk, I’m talkin’ money into
your kets.” '

As e felt that Owen’s clothes were dank with
warm blood, he began to swear in a way that
showed that he had more at stake than the mon-
ey interest of his crowd.

A light was struck, and while one of the men
held the burning matches, Seth made a hurried
examination.

“ He’s all right,” he said, at last. “ Blast him!
he can’t git out o my clutches that wayl You
have plugged him in places enough, an’ tospare,
but he ain’t cut deep. H ar! pi e him up onto
this hyar hose till we git is’n.

' “ Kin he ride, boss?”

“ He’ll have to ride. Up he goes.”

Owen was too much exhausted to resist any-
thing they chose to do to him.

He was )laCed in the saddle, but proved too
limp to ri e without being held on.

In this way he was carried to the nearest tim-
ber, where a rude horse litter was improvised,
in which he was hurried away, he knew not
whither.

His wounds, which had been temporarily
dressed, were more carefully looked after at
daybreak; but he was given no time to rest.

Leaving him to the conduct of his fellows,
Seth went on some other business of his own.

With only such seasons of rest as the other
men r. uired, he was hurried forward, day after
day, till Oklahoma and all its interests there
were left hundreds of miles behind.

He had no idea where they were taking him,
save that they kept following the course of the
sun westward. To all uestions his captors
gave but one answer, in an stance:

“ You kee yer fly-trap shut, pardner. When
Cap comes, ell fill you up as full as you’re like
to stomach.”

At last they sto ped at a mountain hut. One
glance at the care can rufiians who came to stare
at him and then lounge indiflerently away,
showed Owen that he had fallen among outlaws
of the most desperate character.

One advantage he owed to the wonderful
salubrity of the prairie air.‘ His wounds were
healing, and he was so far recuperated that he
could walk about without rticular discomfort.

This he was allowed to 0 at will, only incon-
venienced by having his hands securely bound
behind his back, while his feet were hop led so
as to limit his movements to a cram walk.
The least attempt to run would result in his trip-
piigz himself up.

e was given a plenty to eat, such rude fare
as the others had, and as he sh0wed a disposition
to make the best of the situation, instead of
scowling futilely at his detainers, he was soon
treated with rough familiarity by the men he
found at the hut.

Their conversation, to which his presence of-
fered no restraint, was not a whit behind their
villainous appearance. They openly talked of
robbery and murder before him.

This fact was the most ominous in Owen’s ex,
perience thus far.

“ If it were intended that I should ever go out
of this place alive, they would not treat me with
such indifference,” he reflected “ But why
bring me so far tomurder me? What use has
that villain for me before he puts me finally out
of his way?”

Could t be that Seth’s malignity would be

 

appeased with nothing short of torture? But
this seemed too atrocious, even for such as he.

Owen was not kept long in suspense. Within
twenty-four hours Seth dashed up to the but,
apparently in a towering rage at some defeat of
his purposes.

Loading the air with execrations, he an-
nouncod:

“The jig’s up! The hull thing’s knocked in
the head! We’ve got to git out 0’ this hyar; an’
we don’t want this carrion on our hands nuther.
But I’ll git my satisfaction out 0’ him before I
loose my rip on him, you bet your life!

“ Dave, ’ addressing one of the men of the
hut, “ I want Some p’ison—that’s what I’m
after. Blast me ef I don’t make wolf’s bait of
him in a shape that’ll make the very wolves
what gits him squirm! Ef you hain’t got no
p’ison, I’ll take pounded glass. I’m bound to
fix him, bet a boss!” .-

This proposition did not seem to disconcert
Dave greatly.

“You’re welcome to the medicine,” he said,
carelessly, “of you will have it; but to m
notion, shootin’s a more gentlemanli way.
don’t make nor meddle with no man’s usiness, I
don’t. Every man knows his own business best.
That’s my motto. My put-in don’t cost you
nothin’. on take it fur what you ’low it’s
worth.”

“ It ain‘t worth a cuss to me !” declared Seth;
“ so I don’t take it fur nothiu’. This hyar
snoozer has knocked me galley-west, an’ I’m
hungry—bun ier’n a wolf—fur to git squar’
wit him. ‘ want to see him kick; I want to
hyear him yell. Come down, Doc, with yer
ratsbane!”

But at this point, Dave showing no reluctance
to comply with the request, Seth’s own followers
interposed, through a spokesman whom they
had appointed after a hurried whispered con-
sultation.

“ Look a-hyar, Cap,” he said, “we hain’t ot
no home about our necks yet. Kidnappin’ a n’t
no hangin’ matter. Who’s after us; an‘ how
near be they?”

“ What do you mean?” demanded Seth,
enra ed at this interference.

“ hat yOu’ve got a right to git yourself in as
much of a scrape as you please—when you’re
goin’ it alone.”

“ And when I ain’t goin’ it alone?”

“Then
That’s a fair proposition.”

“ An’ what have you got to say?” still pursued
Seth, as if holding in the outburst of resentment
of this presumptuous interference with his
authority. ,

“Not much. We've got about as deep into
this thing as we care to go—blind.”

“ An’ what be you proposin‘ to do about it?”

“ Call a halt till wesee our way clearer.”

" A belt on me?"

“ You bet!”

“ An' how many is thar of ye?”

Seth cast his eye over the group, as if to pick
out the dieafl‘ected ones.

“ The pile of us,” was the summary disposal of
that matter.

Owen stood waiting the issue of this debate,
of course with no slight interest.

With a bound Seth reached him, and before
any one could guess his purpose, knocked him

own.

Then planting a heavy foot on the breast of
his prostrate victim, he whipped out both re-
volvers, cr ing:

“ Pave, reckon you an’ your crowd is backin’
met

“ You bet, pard!” answered the outlaw, un-
ruffled.

And hiscrowd made good the word of their
chief apparently as indifferent as he.

“ ow maybe you’re crowdin’ me, an’ maybe
you ain’t!” cried Seth, glaring at his men.

For a moment the two companies stood op-

. The outlaws had their weapons drawn.
he late boomers had not been so nick, and so
found themselves at a hopeless disa vantage.

The magical “ drop” is the best of the argu-
ment, in the West.

Though they were more numerous than the
outlaws they had come among, yet the first
fusillade would have more than evened that up.

At such close range the fire of these rumans
was deadly.

After a breathless moment, the maloontents
yielded sulkily.

“ We was ookin’ out fur our own skins. I
reckon you can’t blame us fur that,” said their
spokesman. ” You’ve got the bulge on us. It
might ’n’ been the other way, though.”

“ Bein’s as it is how it is, you cave!”

“ We ain’t no hogs.”

“ All right. You won’t lose nothin’ by stickin’
to me, of ye only kin see it.”

“ Dave ’11 trouble you fur that dose. I
reckon I’ll run my own funeral in my own way
yet a while.”

With rfect nonchalance Dave went into the
but, an reappeared with a tin cup Containing
some liquid.

Tli‘ll now Owen had said nothing; but now he
'py‘And do you mean to saytbat youaren-
solved to kill me like a dog?”

'.’-.a' .'r 
.‘2 ¢

our pards has somethin’ to say“

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

agar.» , v

 

 

 

   
 

 

 

’ 'i ‘ ' ' 4... '

 a V'Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

21

 

 

“Like a dog,” assented Seth, carelessly. “I
hain’t no further use fur you.”

“ You cannot do this thing!”

“ I can’t, eh? I’ll Show you.”

And di'oiuping upon Owen’s breast, he re-
quested; ’

“ Pass that medicine, Dave.”

Owen looked at his enemy. still incredulous;
but the devilish maligiiity in Seth’s face at last
convinced him of his implacable resolve.

“ Will you swaller this thing easy; or will I
have to handle you like a hoes?” asked Seth.

“ Of my own free will? Do you think it like-
1 i”

y“ Oh! you mean to kick, eh? Waal, that’s
your business, not mine. Hyar goes fura test 0’
muscle!”

And be seized his victim by the throat.

Now Owen, helplesst bound as he was, began

- tostruggle frantically.

‘ _—.".—._._-

Even without this disadvantage, weakened by
loss of blood, he would have been no match for
his burly antagonist.

Seth strove to force his mouth open by insert-
in a stick between his teeth.

In this he failed, but Owen found opportunity
to cry:

“ en, are you human beings; and can yousee
this monstrous thing go on?”

A sullen frown and an inarticulate growl were
all that this appeal called forth.

Then the struggle went on, Seth fighting with
the grim pertinacity of a bull-dog.

At last Owen lay panting and but dully con.
scious with exhaustion. Seth had changed his
position so as to Mid his head between his kneeS.

“ Now, pard, the medicine. I reckon he’ll take
it without a whimper.”

“ He’ll spit it out.”

“ We’ll see if he does.”

Forcing Owen to breathe throu h his month
by holding his nose, Seth poured tie contents of
the cup into it, and then throwing the cup away,
seized his victim by the chin, and held him so
that he could not turn his head in the slightest.

Unable to close his mouth, and so expel the
liquid, for the gag that had been forced into it,
it was a question of swallow, or suffocate.

. A spasmodic ulp, then a fit of violent cough-
ing, and Seth re eased his victim.

‘ How’s that?” he demanded.
won’t want no doctor after me.
fits, you bet!”

And he laughed brutally.

Overcome with Weakness, Owen turned over
on his face.

“ To succumb to such a brute as that!” he
murmured.

Then, with a sob:

“ Oh, Pearl!”

But if Seth waited to see his victim writhe, he
was disappointed. There wereI no contortions.
As if from utter prostration, Owen lapsed into
a state of unconsciousness.

Of those who looked on, hardened wretches
aslthfey were, more than one heaved a sigh of
re 10 .

“ That’s a good man,” observed he who led the
revolt. “He deserves a better send-oif—I will
say that.”

‘ Blast him!” grewled Seth, “ that thar’s the
way his ole man sneaked out of our revenge !”

CHAPTER XIX.
A hTEE giuqrion.
SUDDEN c ange p ace in the dam
of Pearl Pancoast. One day she awoke frgianlio;
long period of dejected abstraction, to start to
her feet and throw her hair back from her face
with a deep inhalation and a flashing of the eye
with renewed ur .

“And this. she cried, in fierce scorn, “ for
such as he! I ought to be ashamed of myself,
and I am! From this moment I cast him out of
my heart and life! I will begin anew, and win
back my father’s confidence. He is trusty. J
will never look upon another man than him.
How I hate them all! One and all, they are
selfish brutes. Bah! I will not think of it!”

Haw could she begin her return to the old life?
It would never be the same. The fire of ssion
through which she had passed had burn up all
the . tender illusions of maidenhood. Never
again should she have those shy day-dreams.
All that fairy-land of sweet promise was now
overshadowed by the deadly upas of bitter

hate.

“ But I can live!” she cried cut in her despa .
“ All my life is not blasted! He has not tire

wer to destroy everythi !”

She dashed the hot tears was her eyes.

Oh, her woman’s weakness, how she loathed
m Should she never, never, never be free
frpnfii this hatgd gay? H

‘ e never ov me! e des land
the first, as a thing of the mireK: that: 
pick up at will, and throw away again with a,
contemptuous lau h! Can’t I keep that; beme
my mind!” she c ed fairly heating her head in
her self~des ite. “ O . am I so mean that one I
loathe can et bind me like this?”

action i—that is our one relief from the travail
of the spirit.

Issuing from the we on in which she had hid
away, and walking w th s. ste that nth-acted
surprised glances from all si es, she sought a

. A i

“ I reckon you
I’m death on

 

 

rope corral in which a number of horses were
ke t from straying. ‘

lg'eediug no saddle, but keeping her seat With
only the aid of a girth, and careless of the bridle
she used, being perhaps m0st familiar with the
simplest form of rope-halter, she had no diffi-
culty about securing a mount.

Then away over the prairie with the fleetness
of a bird on the “ing.

She wanted to be alone, not only screened
from the eyes of people, but with afeeling of
the freedom of nature’s wide expanse, to regain
the balance of her mind.

Let her drink in renewed joyousness with the
uncontaminated air. Oh, it must be possible!
How often had she expanded her breast with the
feeling that there was nothing between her and
Heaven, till it. seemed as if her soul would leap
forth and take wing, up! up! up! in the deepen-
ing empyrean!

Away! away! till her breath came fast.
Away! away! till the bounding blood burned in
her cheeks. Away! away! till every vein
coursed with the glowing elixir of life.

But the bracing air fanned her cheeks in vain.
Her rapid flight through space availed nothing.
The fire of her horse imparted no exhilaration.

On the contrary, the unbroken expanse of the
prairie only reminded her of the man she had
watched for. She found herself half-expecting
to see him appear from every motto that came
into view.

But no! He was miles away, forgetful of her
as he hung upon the words of or rival.

Returning home, she sought again her seclu-
sion, on! to be prostrated in a paroxysm of de-
spair an ra e worse than before.

Exhaus at last, she sunk into a fitful slum-
ber, broken by dreams that left no respite from
the suffering of the day. .

Low moans, inarticulate mutterings, profound
sighs, broken sobs, restless contortions of the
body, evinced the pain that haunted her pillow.

At last she started into complete wakeful-
ness, with every sense on the strain, while she
quivered with apprehension of she knew not
what.

What had she heard? Surely nothing but the
ordinar sounds of the night.

She a and listened. Only the mournful
sighing o the wind, presaging a storm, came to
her straining ear, with now and then the sound
of some wakeful animal.

The flickering light of the camp-fire sent
waves of changeful illumination over one side
of the canvas tilt of the wagon in which she lay,
while the other was black with shadow.

It must have been some forgotten fantasy of
her dream that had frightened her, she argued,
and was slowly dropping off to sleep again,
when she was once more electrified by a sound
so close at hand that she involuntarily shrunk
from contact with something directly upon

er.

Was it some one breathing—inside the wagon

But a glance showed that she was alone.

To secure greater seclusion, she had had the
wagon drawn a little apart from the others.
Why not, in this country where there was no
cause for apprehension?

As there was no longer reason for vigilance,
the night-guard had been dispensed with. Every
one in the cam was wra ped in the profound
slumber of h thy out-of oor life.

While she was t ng to persuade herself that it
was but a hallucination, a trick of her Over-
wrou ht nerves, a sharp hiss close to her left
ear rew her eye to t e darkened side of the
ti t.

To her amdzement and horror she saw the
point of the knife tearing a lon slit in the can-
vas. Then two hands seized t 6 sides of the
rent. and pulled them apart.

In the opening thus formed appeared a face—
a face that she instantly recognized, for the
first time in her life With a thrill of paralyzing

ear.

Well might the eyes that stared in upon her
strike her dumb with dread! They were round
and bloodshot with a des ration that would
stop at nothing to accompl sh its purpose. The
brows were knit; the quivering lips were drawn
back, disclosing the set teeth.

Almost instantaneous with the sight, the
fumes of alcohol assailed her sense of smell.

Seth Wendover had fortified himself for an
act of desperation surpassing anything he had
ever before attempted.

All in a flash she realized his fell purpose and
her peril. The horror of it struck her dumb
and turned her limbs to stone. '

“ Not a word! Not a sound !” '

His hoarse command was reinforced by a
dead]: menace with his bowie, held so close to
her t roat that she imagined she felt the chill
irradiated by the cold steel.

“Now hark to me,” he whi red whileher
fascinated e es were riveted to is, glancing by
the edge of t e bowie that hung suspended over
her “I’m hyar on business. U to now I've
fooled with ye, au' let ye have t ings yer own
way. Now We made up my mind torun the
thing to suit myself, or wt ou out o’ yer misery
in double-quick time. i! you pull out 0’ this
with me on the quiet; or will you go to Tophet
sizzlin’!” .

. take.

 

The girl could not speak. She who till now
had been so brave, now found her nerves so un—
strung that she was left as weak as the weakest
of her sex.

“ Holler ef you want to,” suggested her per-
secutor. “ One yelp’ll bring the camp all up
staiidin’. But what they find—was], it won’t be
worth much to nobody.’

Still she regarded him with those stony eyes.

“ Make up yer mind,” he persisted. “ Ef

ou’d druther go with the dev—with the angels.

mean, than with yer humble sarvant, you’ll
git a through ticket, free, gratis. fur nothin’!
‘peak quick!”

“I’ll go with you,” said the girl, tremulously.

“O. K. Git into your duds the quickest you
kin, an’ without no noise.” .

“ If you ii ill give me an opportunity—”

“ To give me the slip! No. thank you! I
ain’t makin’ no sich exchange. Di n‘t be fool-
ishi—this hyar ain’t no time for frill<.”

Without another word of pi otest the girl rose-
to a sitting posture, and made such a toilet as
women will in emergency.

Meanwhile Seth held her under the frowning
muzzle of his revolver, with the reminder:

“ You know I’m a dead shot. Don’t make me
sp’ile what I’d be sorry to.”

Trembling like an aspen, Pearl approached
him. The critical moment had arrived for her
to et out of the wagon.

11 the while she was dressing she had been
calculating her chances.

Once out of the camp in his power, hope
would be past. For the first time she realized
the des rate character of the man with whom
she had)e hitherto been trifling. As long as he
ho to win her to submission, she might de—
spise him; but the moment he passed the Rubi
con, and resolved to force her, if necessary, sis
was helpless.

If she was to escape him, it must be now b!
fore he had really got her in his power. All she
asked was to get from under his eye for an in-
stant. Then she would rely upon her activit ,
taking long chances of his intercepting her fiig l:
with a fatal shot.

" I am ready to get down now,” she said. “ I
suppose you will want me to get out there, so as
not to lose sight of me!”

By this frankness she sought to throw him off
his ard.

“ on bet!” he answered. “ I’ve made it o”
purpose.”

She walked up to him, and held the flaps of'
the canvas apart with both hands, preparatory
to passing through.

“ Will you give me room?” she asked, waiting:
for him to step‘bac .

“ Come rig t along,” he replied, offering his
left hand, his revolver still held menacineg in
his right.

“ I can get down without your help.” she said,
striving to steady her voice, and affecting im-
patience.

“ You kin, easy enough,” he answered; “ but
you won’t.”

“ I will if you will let me.”

“ Which the same I won’t. I’m ’lowin’ to-
take you down. Put your foot out on this hyar
brace.”

“Have your own way !” she retorted, pre-
tending anger where she really felt despair.
 you are a brute! I will always maintain

a -.

“That’s as you take me,” answered Seth.
“I’ve been playin’ the purty dodge till I’ve
made up my mind as nothin is like to come 0’
 l‘iow I’ve got down to hardpan, biz every

me.

She stepped out on the brace of the sideboard
and made as if she were about to evade him l1
leaping to the ground before he could prepare I
receive her.

This was her last hope If he had thrust his
weapon into his belt to have both hands free to
catch her, she would have leaped back and
screamed at the top of her voice.

Instead of giving her this opportunity, he first.
seined her wrist.

“ NOW go slow," he said. “ But make no mis-
l kin kill you before anybod kin git to
you, if you try to play roots on me.’

Then he put up his revolver, and lifted her
bodily from the we on.

“Set me down! she whispered, imperiously.
“ How dare you touch me!”

“ It‘s rather late in the day fur that sort of a
conundrum,” he chuckled. “ But now you shot
up that party mouth 0’ yourn, of you don‘t
want me to shot it up in my own peculiar way.
An’ don’t you disremember one thing. We're

oin’ out whar the firelight’ll strike us, an’ it’llr‘
the onluckiest job 0’ your life of any one-
pokss their head out of a tilt sn’ sees us.”

“Set me down !” she insisted. “ I will walk.
Will it not be more likely to excite curiosity
if you areseenl carrying me? Set me down, I

“it?
stood still in the shadow of the wagon, and
thou ht a moment.

. “ I reckon that’s whar your head’s
level,” he" aid, at last. “I’d ruther have you
alive,et I kin gityou. Ef any onesees usan’

you answer 'um."

K's." 

 

.0:
i

it"

 

' Don’t try no funny business with me.

22

I . Captain Adair, the Cattle King. I

 

Then he set her down, but held her a prisoner
With his iron grip on her wrist once more.

“ Look a’ this hyar,” he said, drawing his
bowie and resenting its point ominously at her
bosom. “ ou can’t shake me. Don’t ye try it

m

The girl compressed her lips to stifle a sob of
despair.

So they set out side by side, as unsuspicious a
spectacle as two lovers stealing away in the
moonlight would have been.

Here the firelight fell upon them; there they
passed into the black shadows. But just before
they got beyond the range of the dying flames,
they heard some one stirring.

Both looked back.

Before Pearl saw who it was, Seth’s arm went
about her waist, and she was lifted off her feet
and laid noiselessly on the ground.

Never before had she realized the strength of
the man with whom she was so helpless to cope
the moment it became a more question of physi—
cal strength. If she had been a child he could
not have handled her with more apparent ease.

As noiselessly, he sunk down partly upon her,
so that the weight of his body prohibited the
all htest movement on her part.

ut this was not enough. Weak as she was,
the might have struggled sufiiciently to attract
attention.

“ Do you feel it?” he asked. “ It’s the point 0’
my pig-sticker. Have you ever seen the blood
fly! One squeal out 0’ you 1”

Could she feel it? She scarcely dared to
breathe, lest she thrust her bosom against it
hard enough to force it through her clothing.
Every bound of her heart was an agony of dread
lest it precipitate the catastrophe, and cause the
next to leap out through the door that thirsty
blade had opened!

The hoarse breathing of her captor close to
her ear filled the chamber of her brain with such
uproar that she could scarce hear anything else.

Who was it that had got down out of a wagon?
Was he coming that way? Suppose it was her
father?”

Seth lifted his head, and turned it so that he
could look though he held her pinned so close to
the ground that she could see nothin .

But shecould feel the straining of his muscles,
the laboring of his breast. was like a wild
beast fearing to be robbed of his prey.

Now that his flerce breathing was not directly
in her ear, she could hear the footste of a man.
The heaviness of his tread left no oubt in this
matter.

He seemed moving about aimlessly, with
pauses now and then, as if he were looking
about, and listening.

She strained her ears to discover if he was
coming that way. ‘ Surely the steps drpw
nearer! And Set — e seemed to be gathering
himself for a sudden assault.

She believed that he woglfl take lon chances,
in his present des rate In , to kee tier alive.
If detected, won (1 he try to kill t e unlucky
discoverer, and still escape with his risoner?

Then recurred the theiaght that t might be
her father; and she forms a desperate resolve.

Whate r resulted to her, she must save him.
If it was indeed be, when Seth gathered himself
for the spring, she would seize him. and send

h a shriek that would rouse the whole camp.

He would probably drive his knlfe to her
heart; but the time thus lost would ve her
father a chance to prepare for the assau t.

Yet she could not sacrifice her life if it was
not be, if the man, whoever he was, stopped
short of the fatal discovery.

She waited.

Seth slawly drew himself u of! of her, gather-
ing his knees under him. is face .seen out of
the corner of her e e, in the faint illumination
reflected from the oliage still further from the
fire. assumed ayerfectly diabolical aspect.

“ Curse him! he was saying to himself “ what
is his life to me? He will force me to kill her or
lose her. If I could have carved up a million
such as he, so’s not to have him loafln’ round
jest now !”

The man, now almost within reach of the hid-
den abductor, stopped, stooped down and picked
up a twig, broke of! a leaf, and began to run its

lPresently he began to whistle softly to him-
se .

With an inaudible sigh Pearl suddenly col-
lapsed. The whistle told her that it was not her
father. The reaction at that moment was so
great that she almost fainted. .

After looking into the shadows of the chapar-
ral and up through the leaves at the starlit sky,
the night-walker lounged back to the wagons,
and climbed into his own.

“ It‘s the luckiest job Aleck Hoover ever done.
that goin’ back to roost!” growled Seth in Pearl’s
ear. “ I’d ’a’ fixed ham first, an’ you afterward,
of a row had come 0 it.”

And he got up, lifting the trembling girl again

to her feet.
Once more ing her wrist, he forced her to

' stem between his teeth.

, follow him ti , at a safe distance, two horses

were found in waiting.

“ I’d ive you the best mount ” he said, “of it
wasn’t ur your givin’ me the slip fur m 5.212%
on

 

so free as you look to be. I’ll trouble you to

. keep close beside me: an’ ef you fall off—acci-

dentally on purposel—I may have to shoot at ye.
An’ I won’t shoot but once!”

With this warning he set out, and the wretch-
ed girl found herself led away into the most
odious captivity she could conceive.

Day after day Seth pressed steadily westward,
till Pearl was satisfied that they must be in that
absolutely lawless part of the Indian Territory
known as No Man’s Land.

Here was no help, no hope! Here, where every
man was his own judge, jury, and executioner,
her life might be blighted With impunity.

Exhausted, almost dead with suffering and
the fatigue of that forced flight, the girl gave
herself up to a dull despair that was next door
to unconsciousness.

Seth had been joined by confederates. She
knew them all. They belon ed to her captor,
body and soul. After a sing e lance around on
their stony faces, she paid no urther attention
to them. Nothing could have been more useless
than an appeal to their sympathies.

At last Seth called a belt, and leaving Pearlin
charge of his men, with the recommendation
never to let him set eyes again on one of them if
the lost her, set forward alone.

hen for the first time the girl addressed her
detainers.

“How much does this ruflian pay you?” she
asked. “ Don’t you su pose I am worth more to
my father than to him? At any rate, don’t you
know that my father can and will pay you more
for me than he does? Will you take me back
and get the ransom?”

Some turned away with a careless shrug of
the shoulders. One replied, with a grin quite
different in its insolence from any the girl had
ever before got from him:

“ Me hain t got nothin’ ag’in’ you, Miss Pearl;
but me don’t like the idea, an’ that’s a fact, 0’
havin’ to wear them thar dude collars fur to hide
the extra length of our necks. The ole man’s a
scorcher when he’s r’iled!”

“‘B”ut I will guarantee you against retalia-
tionl

“ Your will might be good, but, anyway, we’ve
flggered this h ar thing down, an’ pitched our
money on the ack.”

“ 0n the Knave! That is true. But let me
offer one more consideration. If my father is a
scorcher as you say, do you fancy he will rest
till he has avenged me? Is this world big
enough to hold you after you have destroyed his
dau hter?”

T e fellow only laughed.

“ Waal, I reckon he’ll be looked after.”

Then the girl sunk under the paralysis of a
new fear. They were about to murder her
father!

Might not he be dead already?

CHAPTER XX.
DESPAIR.

J ason PANCOAST was an unhappy man. Dis-
appointed in his ambition to lea asuccessful
raid into Oklahoma, where so many previous
attempts had failed, he had to bear the re-
proachful scowls and discontented grumblin of
a lot of unreasonable people, and to keep t eir
pent spleen from venting itself in open broils
among themselves.

The older men swore, but lacked the enter-
prise for anything more active. The young
men were restive, and were from hour to hour
on the verge of disbanding.

Having exhausted argument and persuasion
on them, Pancoast was at his wits’ end to keep
them from open revolt, and after Seth’s de-
parture, had to make overtures to Aleck Hoover,
and enlist his aid.

But if all this galled him, the thing that
rankled like a festering wound was the aliena-
tion of his daughter.

He never realized till now how much he had
come to depend upon her. When he was tired
and perplexed, her cheerful way of looking at
things, her quick sym thy and clear-headed
entering into his trouh es, er shrewd counsel,
ref shed him and rekindled his hope.

at now, besides the loss of this support and

\

the ma rial help she could have been to him by.

her in ueuce he had to struggle against the bit-
ter thought that she had turned against him and
gone over to his enemies. .

To be sure. it was he that had driven her
away. But who is just in his grief?»

Meanwhile, it was the strep h of his love
gist made the implacabilityo his condemna-

on. '

So the day dawned which was to be the most
wretched of his life. He had been robbed with
no warning of his loss.

The time had been when Pearl‘s greeting
smile was the first glad (want of the day. That
had passed. He had learned nptto expect it.
He had not learned yet. however, to reconcile
himself to its lass.

On this morning especially he longed to see
her, thong}; her moping gait, where all before
had been unding life, should pierce his heart.

For a time he wandered aimlessly about the
camp, his frowning look putting everybody in
an antagonistic mood. so that he got the im-
pression that everything was wrong and every-

.‘I‘

. .4.
..K. W. .' L)

l

 

body cross, as is apt to happen on a rainy morn-

ing.

At last he drifted back to his own wagon,
near which his long-suffering wife was doing
her uncomplaining best to prepare a gleam of
cheerfulness in the form of a fair breakfast—as
good as could be expected under such adverse
circumstances.

The wood that she strove to make burn in a
sheetdron camp stove was simpl sodden. It friz-
zled and fried and hissed an sputtered and
smoked—oh, how it did smoke! Plainly, it was
as much oat of temper as the most irritable of
the human victims of discomfort.

“ Whar’s Pearl?” asked her father, rather
sharply.

“ Let the pore critter rest,” urged the mother,
soothingly. “It’s enough for them of us to be
in this pickle as have learned to bear with the
crosses an’ trials 0’ this life. Let the pore critter
rest, I say. She’s in trouble enough of her own,
pore thing!”

“ She’d orter be up seein that her mother don’t
slave—”

“ Thar! thar, Jason! Don’t bother about
me. You’rea pore critter of a man. It ain’t to be
expected that you know how to bear with a young
girl in her trouble. Law me! I was a young
girl myself once—a long time ago !——a long time
ago, Jason! ’M-h’m!” .

And the old woman shook her head and sighed
with depressing recollection.

"That’s all well enough, Huldy,” said her
husband. “ But right’s right, an’ wrong never
kin be right. It’s a daughter’s place—”

“ Thar never was a daughter that knew it or
filled it better’n Pearl.” insisted her mother
stoutly. “I hain’t never had nothin’to com-
plain of since she could toddle. She’s always
been a blessin’ an’ a stay to me, Jason; an’
you know what she has been to 'you, bless her
heart!”

But Pancoast chose not to think of that just
now.

“ Pearl l” he called shargliy.

“ Hush! hush l” plead the mother. “ It
won’t do no good to let everybody see that
you’re displeased with her. Do you want to
shame her before ’em all? Go call her uiet, if
you must have her, though I don’t see w at for.
Or, here—let me."

Pancoast was glad enough to delegate the
office of calling his daughter.

The mother went to the w on Pearl had oc-
cupied, and returned sayin t at it was em ty.

“She’s gone out for a ri shaky herself, li e as
not. Shes feelin’ mighty , Jason,” ur ed
the mother. “You’d orter be patient with or
for a spell. You can’t be expected to enter into
the feelin’s of a young girl like her mother can.
It’s a power 0’ trouble, this love-makin’; an’ she
sot a heap by him, Jason.”

Pancoast growled an oath behind his beard,
and strode away. '

Before long he found his way back, and with
no clearly-defined purpose, strolled up to Pearl’s
we on and looked in.

hat he wanted to see was something that be-
longed to her something with the old associa-
tions before the shadow that had fallen between
them.

It is bable that if he had found her there,
in the anger of his heart he would have made
such overtures to her as would have brought
them together again in the old love and confi-
dence.

But his alert eye saw what the woman’s less
practiced observation had overlooked. He de-
tected the rent in the canvas.

'There was a start; then, without a word or
sound of alarm, he stepped quickly round to the
side of the wagon.

A glance showed that the canvas had been

cut.
. Who had cut it? Why?

The question immediately followed—was it not
strange that Pearl should choose such a morning
for a ride!

Among other virtues, Jason Pancoast had one
ve desirable for everybody. He seldom “ Went
of! elf-cocked.” '

Saying nothing to alarm the mother, he strode
across the camp, with a step which was prompt
without being so hurried as to pique curiosity,
to where the orses were tethered.

Not one was missing.

Back to the we cn, and a hurried yet
searching examinat on of the ground. Then
swift decision, and a stern summons 0: his
friends

They came running, with looks of alarmed in-
quiry. They had heard that in the father’s
voice which told of calamity. His face con-
firmed the presage.

“ Look !—here, and here, and here!” he cried,
pointing out the cut tilt and the trail—theim-
print of a man’s boot beside the smaller foot-
step of a woman.

‘ Do you know who has done this thingi’

He could scarcely speak

What is the matter?”

He was choking.
articulately. '

“ What is it, Cap!
asked a voice.

“ She’s gone !—stolen away i”

As he said that, itzseemed as if the strong man

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“ Oh, not so had as that,” urged Aleck Hoover.
“ She’s gone out to ride—she often does. Don’t
take on, Cap. We’ll find her fast enough.

“ Boys, every one that kin find a boss—
quick!”

“Git yer bosses- but before ye do, I want a
word with ye. Elold onl—we ain’t goin’ in a
pei'misc’ous crowd.” ‘

They stopped to hear him. Never had they
seen so terrible a look on his face.

"Thar ain’t no use blinkin’ the matter,” he
went on. “ I know what’s happened. An’ I
know what I want.”

“ You kin git it, Cap—whatever you ask fur,”
declared Hoover, iii a way which showed that
he too saw the full gravity of the situation.

“I want blood!” cried the distressed father,
striking the wagon with his clinched fist.

“Ye shall have it before we let up on this
hyar,” promised Aleck, for himself and his
mates.

_Looks and voices showed that they were with

him.

“ That hound has robbed me l” cried stout
Jason Panconst, his voice breaking. “ I want
his blood! Who’s With me?”

He looked around upon the excited faces that
thronged about him. .

A unanimous yell was his answer.
all, they were with him.

“ What is it, J ason? Whar’s Pearl?” asked
his wife, forcing her way through the crowd.

“Take her away! Don’t let her come h arl
But what’s the use? She’sgot to know. our
daughter has run away with—with— Oh curse
him! To horse! to horse! We air losin’ time.”

The distracted man broke through the crowd,
and rushed toward the grazing horses. The
mother fell to moaning and wringing her hands
hel lessly.

ut Jason Pancoast pulled himself up.

“ Wait! wait! This hyar ain’t no way to go
about it. I want men that I kin tie to—not too
many of ’em, but good ’uns.”

As he was surrounded again by all the im-
petnous young fel10ws, eager for an adventure
that would set their blood to spinning, he looked
them over with a critical 6 e.

“ I’m ’lowin’ to bind you, he said—“ you what
go along 0’ me. I want you to swear to shoot
that cuss on sight. Ef thar’s ary weak-knead
ones among ye—”

But they almost mobbed him in their eager-
ness to prove that the common enemy should
find no mercy at ther hands.

“ Pick ’em out, Aleck,” he said. “ You know
’em as well as I do. I can’t take ye all, boys,
- thou h I’m obleeged to ye fur our good-will.”

“ ow many shall we want asked Hoover.

“ An even dozen orter do you. He’s got back-
in’ 0’ course; but we can’t strip the camp.”

lock was immovable in his elections and re-
jections.

“ I’d like to take ye all, boys—you know that.
But I’m takin’ ye by yei‘ fightin’ weight, the
best I know. Some 0 them as goes along Won’t
come back, maybe.” .

Asif this respect would deter any one! It
made theme 1 the more eager to go.

Finally the last petition had been denied, and
the rejected resigned themselves to their fate,
while the chosen dozen were busy catching
horses and (‘iirawing' surcin les tight, looking to
was, as an securin suc unions 6
coulgotake with them? pro u m y

Men of the West know how to make haste slow-
ly. No one could guess how long or short might
be the trail they were setting out upon. Nothing
could be gained by going ofl half pro . A
good, substantial reakfast before setting out
was well worth waiting for.

Then away l—to return, when? howl

They found the spot where Seth had mounted
his ca tive; and the father’s heart ached as he
thong t that this had been planned while his
daughter had been away the previous day.

The trail bearing straight to the westward,
was not difficult to follow;and mile after mile
they galloped in the tracks of the fugitive

It was lucky that Aleck Homer was virtually
in charge, Jason Pancoast relying upon his judg-
ment as against his own impatience.

If only the father’s love and fears had been
their guide. they would have run their horses’
legs 03 of them at the outset, and then been
“ nowhar.” '

Hoover regulated the pace of their horses, and
called a ball: when it was needed for the recu-

ration of man and beast, Both must have

cod; both must have rest,

Seth Wendover had mount; of such
speed and bottom that he could am: the hardest
riding his pursuers were capable .

They saw where he had halted, evidently only
to afford Pearl brief periods of rear.

These indications of forced flight filled the
father with fears of failure. While his men
paused meat and ease their aching joints. be

revised on, walking that his horse might rest,

hKughi la glowid hitmésglf 1321110.

t n g e so on us 0 ma

ids his followers by signal smgk'ss at 453:“ 2

at they could take advantage of an, deém,
tiou in the trail, and shorten the distance by
snaking a bee-lino to the spot.

‘ In vain did Aleck protest.

One and

 

. hold me, hands up.”

“ Wear niyself out!" cried the father. “ Not
while this fire burns in my veins. After that,
it don’t matter.”

He Went; and that was the last they saw of
him.

There were no signal smokes in the morning.
as he had promised; and they followed his trail
till they found where he seemed to have run
into an ambush.

“ They’ve got the ole man, boysl” cried Aleck
Hoover, as he gazed down at the confused hoof-
mar.ks. “ Cap Adair ain’t no slouch. He fig-
gered on this thing, an’ he got it down fine, you
bet! I ’10wed it was queer if he’d gone into this
thing without backin’. But then, if the girl was
willin’, he could do that too.”

“ What’s to be did, pard?” asked one of the
men. “ Adair he keeps right on; but his crowd
has carried the ole man off hyar. Which’ll we
foller? We can’t take both.”’

“ VVe’ll keep on after the girl. Cap ’u’d want
us to do that,” was Aleck’s final decision, after
a moment’s puzzled thought.

“ An’ run into another ambush, like as not!”

“ we’ll keep our eyes peeled, an’ resk it.”

“ Thar’s enough of ’em to bag us of we follered
the ole man, anyway.”

“ Like as not. But that’s neither hyar nor
thar. The question is, what would he want
us to do of he could give us our orders?”

So they continued the original pursuit, leav-
ing Jason Pancoast to his fate.

And what was that fate?

Leaving his horse to graze with theirs, he had
gone off on foot, bearing a torch with which to
make out the trail in the darkness.

Not less than five miles had he thus laboriously

icked his way,.traversing several belts of tim-

r, so that he had long since been lost to the
sight of his men, when he finally came to a wa-
tercourse where the fugitive seemed to have
made the first attempt to “blind ” his trail.

Up and down the stream, on either bank, the
searcher went, scanning every inch of the
ground, only to find himself back, baffled, at the
point where he had lost the trail.

He had been too impatient. He had not per-
sisted long enough in onevdirection. His men,
who came after 6him in the morning, succeeded
with no great difficulty where he had failed. But
there were enough of them to man both banks in
either directiou' and all they had to do was to
has riding till they came to the spot where the
tug tive had emerged from the water. Then
too, distances seem greater in the darkness, and
frith the slow progress necemitated by torch-
i ht.

ack again as we have said, to the point
where the trai went d0wn into the water, came
the tired and discouraged man. Was it a won-
der that he sat down dejectedly on the bank?

“ They’re goin’ to give me the slip l” he said.
“ I feel it in my bones!”

And he bowed his head on his hands; and it
may) be that a hot tear forced its way through
his urning eyelids, and trickled down hisbeard.

But the snapping of a twig caused him to leap
to his feet, and snatch at his revolver. '

He had stuck his torch into the yielding loam
of the river-bank; and its smok red flame cast
but a small circle of doubt ul illumination
around.

Within that circle, however he saw a man
standin with folded arms, and regarding him
with a erisive smile.

“ Hard luCk, partner!” was all the stranger

said.

“Who be you?” demanded the boomer-chief-
taén, holding his weapon in readiness at his
si e.

“ One who has come to‘take you in out 0’ the
wet,” was the bantering use.

“ You’ll have to git up air y to take me in out
o’ the wet, whoever you be!” retorted Pancoas

“ Oh, nol—I guess not." ' ‘

“ Oh, est—I as so.”

“ What’ll you bet on it?”

“ I’ll bet my life ag’in’gours.”

“ That’s a big stake. ou’ve got a dead sure
thin , I reckon.”

“ ve got the drop on you, if that’s what you
call it.”

“ It won’t do you no good, stra

“ What’s the reason it won’t?
bash. for one thing.” 9

“Not to-ni ht.

“You bet ain’t waitin’ for mornin’, ef you
don’t show u before all our gas runs townie.”

“ Take, a 00k arouu , pardner before you
open our battery—do!”

“ aka a look around?”

" Swin that torch of yourn over your head,
an’see w at you see.”

“An’ see how quick you kin turn the tables
on me. Presto change l—an’ you’ve got the
drop, an’ I’m nowharl Excuse me, of you
please l”

“ Oh, I ain’t half so sharp as that. Ef I had
been, would I have stood myself up hyar fur
you to shoot at!”

And the stranger grinned.

The argument was unanswerabh. Panooastl
saw that he must hold the stranger at his mercy
only in seeming.

‘ Besides,” pursued the unknown, “you kin

n r.”
fill! sour your

\

 

And he proved that he had no intention of
securing what he might have had from the first
by‘yutting up his hands above his head.

.L ot alittle chugrined, Jason PanCoast caught
up the torch, and swung it, as he had been di-
rected, in the air.

The red glare glinted on the muzzles of car-
bines that made a fi'0wning circle about his.

The men who menaced him thus were all hid-
den behind copses of dense foliage.

“ Air you satisfied?” asked the stranger, as
Pancoast’s jaw dropped in astonishment.

"‘ You’ve got me,” said the boomer chief.
“ whoever you be. \tht do you want 0’ me?”

And as if to show that his capitulation was
without reserve, ha put up his revolver.

“ That’s sensible ” remarked the other, approv-
ingly. “ You an I’ll git along comfortable,
after all.”

“ Who be you l"

“ Your would»be host.”

“ Who sent on after me?”

“ You will earn that after we have had a
chance to show you what sort of entertainment
we can offer you.”

“ I reckon thnr ain’t much use o’chin-music.
But I will say this. Ef you’re in the pay 0’ Cat
Adair, you might as well put a slug through me
first as last. Ef you ain’t in his pay, then I’ll
make you an offer. I’m in a had way. I want
my time now worse’n I ever wanted it before in
my life, an’ worse’n I’m like ever to want it
ag’in. Ef you’ll let up on me. I’ll bind myself
to send on any ransom you say within my
means, efy it takes every stiver I ve got. Not
only this. I’ll put myself in your hands again,
any time you say, an’ anywhar, after this day
next week. I reckon that ’11 be time enough
i'ur what I’ve got to do. Ef I ain’t dead before
then, I’ll either have what I’m after, or I’ll have
give it up. What do -you say? Go easy on me,
stranger—as easy as you rightly kin.”

“ I’d like to giveyou a show, pardner—I would
so. But I’m obeyin' orders.”

“ Ca Adair’s orders?”

“ I d dn’t say so.”

“ Take me in! I hain’t got nothin’ more to

8a .1,

¥Vith set teeth and clinched fists Jason Pan-
coast dropped his head on his breast, and stood
the icture of abject submission. Fate had
crus ed him, so it seemed.

“ I’m sorry fur you,- pardner,” said the other,
advancing as if to take him prisOner.

He was a little premature with his sympathy,
as it proved!

With a bound Jason Pancoast seized him, and
liftinfilhim clear of! the ground, rushed with him
straig t for the circle of frowning carbines.

Of course it impossible for the men to
shoot. and so pe the life of their leader as
greatly as they did that of their supposed pris-
oner.

Through the line he crashed with so impetuous
a rush that there was no stopping him.

“ Drop yer carbines! Grapple him i” shouted
the strange captive, kicking wildly in the air.

. They did so; but the man they sought to de-
tain seemed no longer human. He was an in-
carnate whirlwind.

Of course so tremendous an exertion of force
could be but momentary. What was to bedone
must be done while the breath was held.

Knowing this, the boomer leader hurled the
man he had snatched it off the ground into the
circle of his friends, so reaking a path for his
own exit.

Even as he leaped through it, he drew his re-
yolvers, and began to fire to the right and to the
aft.

Never was a holder dash for liberty. Never
was a forlorn hope so quickly changed. He was
through the circle, and away! His enemies Were .
in confusion.

t 1113!“ fate was against him. He tripped, and
e

Like hounds upon a fallen deer, they leaped
upon him. As they clutrhedhim, they uttered
snarls, like contending animals.

Desperately he fought. But he was pinned
down, and one brawny fellow held him while
the iest ('lisentan led themselves. ~

W hen they li ted him to his feet, he was
prisoner sqcurely bound.

" Boss,” said his captor, with unequile ad—
miration, “ you deserve to have got away.
never see nothin’ quite so han‘some. One 0’
these days, when you’re in the humor for it, I’ll
give you my band on it." n

And he rugged the trickling blood from his
forehead entirely without malice. '

Jason Pancoast answered not a word.
he was a broken man.

Now

 

CHAPTER XXI.
a Lorraarso mm

“Irisanou P’cried witch EtheL—asr
some one we know, was fond of calling her--
stauiping her little foot with

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nonotice wastaken of the tender term, it is to *
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‘ But he promised,” insisted Ethel.
“ Promised!" ejaculated Berkhardt,
slight elevation of his shoulders and

 

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24

“ What saith the sage? Promises are ropes of
sand 1’

“No gentleman breaks a promise, however
trifling.’

“ If he can help it.”

“ Help it! He is bound to help it!”

“ Must I quote the sinner after the sa 6? IVe
are, all of us, constantly doing that w ich we
ought not to do, and leaving undone those
things which we ought to do, and there is no
health in Us!”

It was plain that Berkhardt was determined
not to take the matter too serious]

“ I have a mind to shake you! ’ cried Ethel,
favoring her lover with a most bewitching look
of im atience. "

ou mean,” Corrected Carl, “ that you have
a mind to take hold of me and shake yourself.
Try it—do!”

“You are the most provoking thing Iever
saw,” declared his sweetheart, for so her man-
ner marked her. “You may laugh, but I tell

on it is no laughing matter. You ought to see

er. She is nearly distracted.”

“ Over a delay of an hour or two! Why, even
you are not so exacting.”

“ I? I have no right to be. I have no claim
upon any one; nor has any one any claim upon
me. Pray don’t forget that, sir!”

She tossed her head portly.

“We’ll discuss that later,” said Carl, not
much dismayed at this declaration of freedom.
“But I insist that your friend is altogether
too familiar with the Green-eyed Monster. I
wish Adair joy of her; but—-”

“Silence! This is high treason! Do you
think I will stand an" hear my friend—my par-
ticular fi iend—«lefamed? Poor dear A a is per-
fectly right; and you are a lot of brutes to treat
us so!” >

“ Come! came! I am willing to hear my
share of the common burden of humanity for
Adam’s fault—and especiall Eve’s; don’t for-

et thati—but I’ll be hang it I will suffer for

wen Adair’s infirmities!”

As another mark of the progress Carl was
making, on the day of the barbecue he apolo-
gized for the accidental escape of tho expletive

by Jove!” while nowhe went on quite un-

conscious of the equally questionable “ I’ll be
hanged!”
“ asn’t I on hand in time? You mighthave
seen me hanging round at cock-crow, but for
the chance of getting a shot from some also y
sentinel. I didn’t want to run the risk of e-
priving you, madame, of a very attentive lover
and an equally devoted husband.”

“How very considerate you are!” laughed
Ethel. “But, seriously, Carl, r Ada has
some excuse for her uneasiness. hat should I
do, you silly boy, if I lived in momentary dread
of your playin me Some unexpected trick?"

‘ Like the ittle Joker in thimble-rig, eh?
Now you see it, and now on don’t see it!

“ onsense! But, rsa ly, on don’t know
what she has gone through. he best of you
isn’t worth it!

“ Ah, me!” sighed Carl, dolefully shaking his
head. " The course of true love never did run
smooth—except in our case, my dear!”

“It runs altogether too smooth. You don’t
know how to appreciate me i”

“ You are of ines—”

“Hush! Here she comes! Ohiohlohl”

Ada made her appearance smiling, but so
ghastly pale that Ethel involuntarily clutched
the warm be ad of her lover.

“Is there any use of further delay?” she
asked. “ Our way lies in the direction of the
ranch, you know, and we shall probably meet
ME Adair.” ed
‘ the groan again in irit thou h her li
smiled with her ordinary gcial’ mask‘. pg

Was it possible that her haughty friend could
so humble her pride as to propose to go in
quest of a man who failed to keep his engage-
ment with her? ,

“ The very thing !” was what Ethel said, with
great apparent enthusiasm.

If she could only have known! What she had
seen of Ada’s experience was as nothing com-
pared with the reality.

The girl had awakened that morning out of a
dream which left no recollectionpbut only a
vague sense of depression, which she at once
construed as a premonition of impending evil.

She awaited the hour of Owen’s coming with
growing anxiety, and when it passed without

rin lng him, she stood breathless, as white as
mar o.

It was then that Ethel had seen her, when she
ran to her room to seeif she was dressed for their
wearers“!!-

. at a n on hand for some time and
3:62“: male: burng a r«iieiflighhttui time with'him,

a e was esc w owas su posed
he Owen. p to

“ He is coming, riding like the wind !” she had
announced, as she burst into the door.

Ada lifted her hand to her heart, and for a
moment it seemed as if she were about to faint.

But with a mi hty effort she ned her
self-composure, an said, with at! careles-

ness:
“ I will be out in a moment. Thank .”
Checking the impulse to throw hzguarms

 

~ Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

about her friend and chide her for her doubts,
Ethel discreetly withdrew.

What followed immediately upon the closing
of the door showed how great had been the
strain Ada had withstood.

With a sort of reeling half-turn, she sunk
upon her knees before her bed, dropping her
face upon it.

There was an agonizing burst of tears that
lasted for thirty seconds. Then she arose and
carefully obliterated every trace of disturbance.

She stood before the glass marshaliiig, her
features into a look of agreeable composure,
when a light step approached the door, followed
by a timid knock.

She went to the door and opened it, and the
moment she saw Ethel’s face, knew what the
girl had returned for.

“Oh, you are looking lovely, dear," declared
Ethel, entering the room, instead of waiting for
her friend to come out.

Then she stated the real business of her com-
ing so soon again.

‘But we were mistaken. It proved to be
somebody else than Mr. Adair, on coming
nearer. Do you care to go out yet? I have
discovered the proverbial stitch in time; and,
for once in mylife, I am going to avail myself
of the delay, to take it, just to see how it seems.
I sha’ii’t be a minute.”

She kissed Ada on the cheek, with a little
deprecating laugh, and flitted out of the room
and into her own, with the pretense of not
knowing that she had just dropped a thunder-
bolt at her friend’s feet.

But the cheek she touched with her warm lips
had sent a chill through her veins. The stony
eyes /from which she averted her own had
thrilled her with a tingling pain.

Ada did not cast herself again upon her
knees. She stood a long time motionless, star-
ing into vacancy.

“It has come!” she said at last. in a cold,
evenly-modulated voice. “ I might huVe known
it.’

Then she sat down, dressed as she was for her
ride, and watched the slow-moving hand of the
clock, that remorseless index of the flight of
time.

“ It has come!” she kept repeating, and never
moved further while the hand made two com-
plete rounds of the dial.

Ethel did not return. She had not the cour-
age. From the first there had been no confi
dence between her and Ada regarding her
unhappy love. She could neither console nor
cheer. She was forced to pretend that she saw
nothing unusual in what was going on.

The face that she had caught that last glimpse
of haunted her, sothat she was glad tocreep
close to Carl, and be unusually kind to him.

This was the justification of her indignant
condemnation of Owen, whom she really liked
very much indeed; and now Ada had made her
appearance with the strange proposal, which
really meant that they should go in quest of the
delin uent.

Car , being a man, thought this a very sensi-
ble thing to do; but Ethel new that no woman
would ordinarily put herself in so humiliating a
position.

To=Carl, Ada’s smile was only the polished
manner of a rather haughty woman of society;
to Ethel it was almost as painful as a grinning
death’ahead.

What was passing behind that stony mask?
What had passed in those two hours of wait-

in i

It was a very simple matter. Ada had come
to the resolution to know the worst, and without
further delay.

One thing she had done of which no one who
knew her would have thought her capable-
taking into account all it, might impl .

She had opened her trunk, an from its
morocco case had taken a vet small, hi hiy-
flnished revolver, looked careful y to its l ing,
and secreted it in the bosom of her riding-
habit.

What a monitor, to knock against her heart
with every rise and fall of her horse, as she rode
to meet her lover!

How little did innocent witch Ethel guem to
what she was smil ng acquiescence, with the po
lite hypocrisy wh h society imposes on all its
devotees. She could not dream the tra ic pos-
sibilities of this nature, of which she ha as yet
seen only the outside.

So with seeming gayety they rode away from
the fort. How false t e seeming!

“ I say. Bill! How’d ya like to he one 0’ them
nobs, with nothin’ to do all day lon but sashag
around the country, an' cut up big jinks wit
the dames?"

“ I reckon thar’s a streak 0’ fat an’ a streak 0’
loan in that. as well as in moat everythin’ else
in this hyar wicked world,” answered Bill, philo-

sophically.
‘ I'd 1! e the chance to grease the hard road
I have to travel with some 0’ that thar same
kind 0’ fat—blow me of I wouldn’t! I’d take the
lean without no growlin’.” '
“ I manage to git along purty comfortable
with a pipe an’ the soft side 0’ a plank. I tell
guwha t is, Bob—when you’ve seen as much 0’
hyar circus what we call ,livin’ as I have,

s

 

you’ll about make up your mind thar ain’t
nothin’ in this world ike gittin’ right down to
hard-pan, an’ makin’ the most 0’ what comes to
hand. Rich or poor, you’ve got to take your
reg’lar gruel one way or another, bet yer sweet
life! The sickest man I ever see was one what
hadn’t notliin’ in God's world to trouble him.
The only man I’d trade with now, knowin’ what
I do 0’ what’s what, worked from six o’clock in.
the morniii’ till ten o’clock at night, ear out
an’ year in, with nary a holiday but undays,
an’ no amusement but what he could git out of
a wife un’ fourteen brats an’ a clay pipe. God
 the man what invented a clay pipe, says

!’ ‘

“ Say, Bill! What did that thar model chap
0’ ‘you’n do fur a livin’?”

‘ Shoemakin’.”

“ Waal, I’ll be hanged! You’d make a blame
good preacher, you would! You’ve missed your
callin’.”

“ l’d make a mighty poor nob, as you call it;
an’ so would you.”

“ I’d like to try my band at it a spell, any-
way. I’d swap shoes with ary one 0’ them
three.”

The speakers stood in an angle of the wall, so
that their voices, favored also by the wind,
were projected further than they thought. Be—
sides, Ada Savoy was as keen of hearing as of
sight: and during a momentary pause, while
she waited for the adjustment of Ethel’s stir—
rup, she caught the substance of the discus-
sion.

“ Poor fool l” the reflected bitterly, “ he would
be more eager to swap back, if he were shod
with the flames of hell that are hearing me on
my mission!”

Yet she rode with onward calm, the slumbrous
fire of her soul finding vent only in the un-
natural brilliancy of her eyes.

When the point was reached where the line
of their projected excursion dive ed from the
way to Owen Adair’s ranch, Et el, without
drawing rein, remarked with a smile:

“ We might as well keep on, seeing we have
come so far, till we meet Mr. Adair, or suro
prise him at home in the midst of business.”

And Ada, smiling back, assented:

“ Certainly!”

Whereupon Carl, to himself:

“ It takes a woman, by Jove!”

And he almOst lost himself in an unguarded
whistle.

Ada’s eyes looked straight ahead, and when
they came in sight of the ranch. fastened upon
it, never to be removed till they dashed up to
the door.

“Hallo the house!” shouted Car] with an af—
fection of gayety he was far from feeling.

He had been watching Ada’s set face; and
gradually the distress that underlay Ethel’s

rsistent smile, slowly killing it out, and crush-
ng her into silence, had pierced his armor of
masculine stoicism.

Ethel sat her horse in mute anxiety, no longer
able to dissemble her feelings.

“ Every step has home as nearer to the inevit-
able tragedy,” she was saying to herself.
“What was the use of this painful pretense?
Oh, it is terrible! I shall never forgive him!
And how could she? She must have guessed!”

By “ tragedy "she meant a woman s humilia-
tion—noth ng more.

There was no need of Carl’s hail. He still
kept up the pretense that had brought them
thus far, by affecting to summon Owen from
some recess where he had not seen their ap-

roach. In fact he did not believe that his

riend was within miles of the range of his
v0ice.

They were greeted by a great rout of dogs,
which brought men from the stables and women
from the house.

On the heels of his bail, Carl proceeded to ad—
dress one of these. i

“ Where is Captain Adair?”

“ We was ’lowin’ as how he’d staid ovor at the
Fort, hein’s most likely as he was that yistiddy,”
answered one of the men. '

“ Yesterday? But isn’t be home to-day?”

“ He ain’t nowars hyara uts.”

“ But he returned last 11 ht?”

“ Not to this house. a’n’t he at the Fort
yistiddy?”

” Certainly. But he left there late last night,
intending to return home."

“ He never got hyar.”

“ But that is strange. Where could he have
8000‘?”

“ That I don’t know.”

“ Doyou know of any business that would

robabl call him away just now? Who is
{here w 0 would be likely to be in his confidence
in such matters?”

“ Most likely me, if anybody.”

” And you know of nothing?”

“Nothin’. That is to say, nothin’but some
businem he had hyar. Hyar s a gent waitin’ fur
to see him. He had an app’intment with him
airly this mornin’.”

The' man referred to looked from one to an-
other of the new arrivals with that blank ex-
pression of ap l with which one submits him-
self to ins met on under such circumstances—a»
look of m d injury, which seemed to say:

I‘ i-K'IV‘. a“. 733-,“ “(HR .i-xw, . : ‘_.
i - ~ , ,e  _ .

 

v. aamw- Q.‘ ~ ya. .

 

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 Mam-um whiom‘rsashw

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v )th W. b.:o.~.-u~’r'tvv hour... FP-a »<vh

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.. we» .-
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-;.r.: ‘33”! r,

’ Captain

 a: ,a-xrw-g 9-     :-. e ‘ .v

Adair, the Cattle King.

25

 

 

“ You see me b er. _ I've waited a nrty con-
siderable spell. f anybody has a rig t to com-
plain, I reckon it‘s yer humble sarvant. Do
you ’low as I’m bein’ used jest right?”

But when his eyes reached Ada Savoy’s face,
the expression of his own chan ed abruptly. Be
dropped his jaw, and stared at er in unmistaka-
ble forgetfiilness of his own tty annoyance.

Carl followed the direction of his eyes, and
was himself thrilled into silence.

As white as death, Ada with atouch of the
spur ressed forward.

“ on had every reason to expect your mas-
ter here today?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“ And you, sir l—was your business with him
of importance?”

“Thar wasa few hundred dollars in it. Not
much to him, Ireckou, but party considerable
to me. I’m a poor man, myself.’

“ Enough so that he would probably be here
if he could without great inconveniencei An
his a )pointnient with you was positive?”

“ e said he’d be hyar. I ve come a good
ways—he knowed that. I’d like to git away as
quick as I kin.”

After he ceased speaking, the girl sat staring
at him, with a slight swaying motion in her sad-
dle, for perhaps the st ace of ten seconds; and
then she said, as if it just occurred to her after
a momentary aberration of mind:

“ Thank you 1”

She did not Seem to see him while she said it,
there was such a strange expression of distance
in her eyes.

Then with a labored respiration, as if a pain-
£311 weight oppressed her breast, she turned to

“ Will you oblige me,” she asked, “ by return-
iiig to the Fort, or continuing on the excursion
we contemplated, and leaving me here alone?"

“ Alone? 0h, Adel—what can you do here?”
exclaimed Ethel, for once thrown completely off
her guard, and so forgetting polite conventional-
ities, ordinarily observed by her with so nice
cure.

“ Do not think strangely of me,” answered the
girl, still With that far-away expression, as if
her thoughts were not on the person she was ad-
dressing. “I beg that on will think as little
as possible about me. t me have my way;
and believe that I shall never forget your con-
sideratiiin—all—through—this—”

She did not complete the sentence.

Ethel experienced a horrible sensation, as if
she were in converse with one insane.

It seemed to her that the speaker was so busy
with other thoughts, that she forgot what she
was saying, and all her immediate surroundings,
in the midst of her discourse.

This was the first intimation Ada had given
that she was conscious of any tactful kindness
on Ethel’s part, so thoroughly had all that was
unusual in her past conduct been ignored.

But what ought to be done when things had
reached their present dirent state? Before, the
situation was full of pain; now, it was full of
terror!

In her helplessness, Ethel turned to Carl.

He who had left all to her woman’s instinct
and tact thus far, now suddenly asserted the
swvavv of manhood.

ith a firm restraining clasp on her wrist, he
said, in a low tone:

“ Perhaps Miss Savry knows best.”

Ethel yielded with the docility which was fast
supplanting the lightsome caprice of her nature,
when Carl expressed a serious reference.

But she could no longer hlde her bleedin
heart, her yearning sympathy. Tears well
into her eyes; and throwing her arms about her
friend, she murmured brokenly:

“ Oh, Ada! oh, my dear!"

“ Hush! hush!" admonished the other.
shall never forget your kindness.”

And so they parted.

“Oh, what, what Will become of her? She is
not herself at all. I am afraid to leave her in
such a mood,” sighed tender-hearted Ethel, as
she rode away from the ranch secure in her own
hap ier fate. s

‘ are are paths that, like the way of death,
we must all walk alone,” said Carl. gravely. “ It
is a wretched business truly: but I hope it will
turn out less an fortunately than you fear. :I am
surprised at Adair. He doesn’t seem toknow his
own mind. But. sometimes it is better to out
these tangled skeins at once than to spend a life-
time trying to unsnarl them.”

But this was rank heresy to Ethel,

“ Some ill-natured person might say the same
of the tie that binds us!” she exclaimed, looking
at him with tearful reproach.

Of course Carl was at no loss for arguments to
prove to her that it was by no means a parallel
case.

Meanwhile Ada sat like a statue in bronze,
watching them till they disa pear-ad, Then,
suddenly arousing, she cast a g nce about her
and to the astonishment of the good peOple of
the ranch, who did not presume to disturb her,
spurred her horse at a Wild gallop straight away
acriciss the prairie, regardless of any beaten
tra ‘

It was not significant to them that she was

a bee-line for Colonel Flood's ranch.

“I

 

CHAPTER XXI I.

THE SPIDER.

THERE were suggestions of the South in Col-
one! Flood’s ranch. One of them was such a
veranda as might, have run the length of any
plantation house.

True, it was not screened by trailing vines,
nor was it bowered in the foliage of luxuriant
shrubbery.

A woman might have made some attempt to
drape it in color; but the colonel had no eye for
such things.

To him a house was a shelter from the
weather. The veranda, rude and bare, was the
one out—cropping of early reminiscence.

On this veranda, then, sat the appropriator of
all the country within sight—Spoil of the
heathen as we have said.

A rocking-chair, a cigar, and a newspaper of
reasonably recent date, were the items that
1went to make up his seemingly unmixed com-
ort.

With his feet on the balustrade, and the news-
paper held so that all of the upper part of his

ody was hidden behind it, it was probably
natural that he should remain unconscious of
the approach of a rider even of the bewitching
sex, till he was startled from his absorption in
Bolitics or market quotations by the thud of her
orse’s hoofs quite close at hand.

Then he lowered the paper to his knees, and

looked across it with marked surprise—to all

'otward seeming.

There was the momentary hesitation of in-
credulous amazement, then the smiling alacrity
of one who acknowledges himself equally hon-
ored and delighted.

“ My dear Miss Savoy! What propitious
stars are in conjunction in my horoscope! No
devotee ever felt his unworthiness more keenly,
I do assure you! This is a—”

“ I am in no mood for trifling!” interrupted
the girl, in a low, hoarse, rasping voice, as she
rode quite close up to him, where he had come
down off the veranda. “Will you follow me?
What I have to say is not for t e ears of your
servants—not yet. Will you provide yourself
with a horse?”

The colonel looked at her in surprise, but ac-
itzepted the gravity of the occasion without ques-

ion.

“ I am at your service, of course,” he an-
swered.

A word to some men who were overhauling
harness before the stables procured him a mount,
and he swung into the saddle and followed Ada
as she headed her horse toward a neighboring
cha arral.

S e had ridden through it before he overtook
her. As he emerged from the trees on the fur-
ther side, he found her confronting him with a
look of iron determination in her face.

“ Where is Owen Adair?" she demanded, with~
out giving him time to speak.

He answered without esitation or evasion, to
all outward seeming. His mood seemed quite
changed from that of the day when he left her
fainting in the dell almost within gun-shot of
where they now stood.

The sarcasm of that hour of antagonism was
replaced by the conciliatory moderation of one
not disposed to strike a fallen foe.

“I have heard what has happened.” he ad-
mitted: “and if you regret it, I am willing to
give you my sympathy. I thought it had sim-

plified matters very nicely, by relievin you of
all awkwardness. But I confess that do not
see why you should come to me with our pres-

ent demand. Do you think it like y that I
should be in Captain Adair‘s confidence in such
a matter? I assure you he has taken me quite
pleasantly by sur rise.”

The girl listen towhat he had to say with
stony immobility, and with equally stony immo-
bilit renewed her exaction.

“ hat have on done with Owen Adair?”

“What have done with him? i?"

“ What have you done with him, or caused to
be done with him?”

“ My dear Miss Savoy—”

The colonel began with the indulgent smile of
one too absurdly arraigned for serious defense.

Ada interrupted him with iron inflexibility of
purpose.

“ Have you had the courage to murder him
outright?"

‘ The colonel lifted his hat with a mocking bow.
His‘old Mephistophelean irony returned.

“I will not return your compliment as I
might, did not your charming sex rightly claim
every indulgence. I will not even intimate that
your curious suspicion might be considered a

tsible reflex of your own innocent day-dreams.

u ou—

H s counter-charge thrilled through the lis-
tener so as to string every muscle in her body
to sudden rigidity, and goad her into speech.

“ Beaufort ood, you are standing on the
verge of an open grave!” she declared, icily.
“ Once more I demand of ion, where is Owen
Adair? If you have killed im, you shall show
me his body; if you hold him alive, you shall
lead me to im. You menaced me, and because
1 yet held the hope of life, you were ableto
crush me to your feet. Now your malice is

 

powerless a inst me, because I have abandoned
that hope. ow I am as desperate as you—even
more so; and I am resolved that you shall not
wreck my life, though you may be able to force
me to my own destruction. I will be frank
with on: I mean to baflle you, and then throw
myse f upon the gratitude of the man who shall
know that, if I was read to jeopard his life for
my own sake, I am not ess willing to peril my
life for his—and both because I love him. Stand
out against me in this, and I will shoot you
where you sit. Now, my answer?”

True to her word, she drew the revolver with
which she had provided herself before setting
out, and leveled it so accurately at the point
just between the colouel’s eyes, that he sighted
along the barrel to her eye, and saw how no-
curate and steady was her aim.

Only a moment did she favor him with this
test, 1just to show that she could strike with the
dead y certainty of the cobra if the occasion de-
manded.

Then she lowered the weapon to a place of
rest and readiness.

“ She‘s no slouch l” acknowledged the colonel to
himself. “ There’s no buncombe or hint! about
her. She means business!”

However, though be fully realized the serious—
ness of the situation, he evinced no perturbation.
His color did not change; his eyes did not
waver; his voice lost not a shade of its wonted
virility.

“ There seems to be a slight misunderstand-
ing.” he began.

Ada interrupted him with her first show of
feminine impetuosity.

“ There is no misunderstanding!”

“ Allow me!" he protested,with mock suavity.

“ Go on,” she assented, annoyed at herself for
her momentary slip.

“There seems to be a sli ht misunderstand-
ing,” be repeated, deliberate  “You speak as
if under the impression that aptain Adair had
been spirited off alone.”

“Alone, or in company with others,” she be-
gan, with the overbearing imperiousness with
which one sweeps trifies aside.

But it was now the colonel’s turn to inter-
rupt.

" If you will allow me, I would submit that,
under certain circumstances, the alternative
which you dispose of so summarily might make
considerable difference—all the difference, in
fact, between your holding me responsible for
Captain Adair, and your calling him to account
for himself.”

What was it he said! The words cut through
her like the keen blade of a Corsican stiletto!
Call Owen to accountl What for? For the
company in which he had disappeared!

For one‘instant the truth (as it seemed to he
then)—in fact, the implication of the colonel—
fiashed upon her, only to be repudiated by the
gathering into one mighty eflort of eve energy
of her nature; as the lightning revea s eve
minute detail of a landscape, created and an
hilated b the same flat, as it were.

Then 8 c said, with a car] of the lip:

“You may be talking against time, on the
chance of something or somebody turning up:
you may hope totake advantage of a momenta
distraction to turn the tables on me. You wi l
have no such favorable opportunity. Ishall not
lose my wits, and on the appearance of any one
likely to interfere in your behalf, I shall make
sure of you, and do what I can to rescue your
victim afterward.”

“ That is a highly dramatic mine,"
sneered the colonel. “ Notwithstandin , I still
think you will do well to listen to me. he fact
can hestated in half adosen words. It is at
your service, if on wish it. If not, I am at
your mercy. I 0 not try to disguise that fa
nor do I delude myself with any illusions abon
the capabilities of your sex. I have seen some
rare specimen“ s perform in 3 day!”

“ Let me hear what you i thefaot, if it can
be stated so briefly."

“ The fact, then, is simply this: There is a
striking coincidence between the disa nearance
of my victim, as on will have it, a his poul-
ble victim—the utifnl, if not accomle
daughter of the boomer leader, Jason Pancoast.
It seemed to me well not to leave this fact out of
your calculations.”

As if she had been struck by lightning, Ada
Savoy swayed in her saddle, her arm fal
limp at her side, and the weapon but now
so steadily almost slipping from her nerveles

On! a moment thus. Then, recovering as
quick y, she leveled the fatal instrument again
at the man who sat immovable before her, al-
most shrieking:

“Yonlie!” , '

There is a sting to that word shared by no
other. Perha because it is so short and s
The colonel or the first time changed color,
though it was buried at him by a woman.

But he smiled nevertheless, though it was pos- ' _
sible that in the frenzy of the moment the woman .-

might carry her resentment to fatal lengths.

“ Allow me to commend to your notice anothu' V

fact,” he went on. coolly, “ to wit: that I 1‘
now made noeffort to turn the tables on you, a
you put it; though you must confess that yeah»

 

.‘E

 

   

‘ ' task. we need not delay."

 

‘ l

26

 

cautiously gave me ample op rtunity. You
may not have lived long enoughoin the West to
learn the fatal celerit acquired in getting what
is called the drop. e would have been a bun—
gler indeed who could not have availed himself
of your momentary distraction—if you will al-
low me to quote you again. Suppose, then, that
you put that toy up, and let us face the facts in
this case in a common-sense way."

What he said was so true that it could not but
up 1 to the woman’s good sense.

rom that moment she was convinced that her
antagonist had so good a case that he could af-
ford to extend to her every indulgence.

Without a word further she put up her wea-
pon, as he recommended; but at the same time
she broke down, covering her face with her
hands in her abject wretchedness.

“Now,” said the colonel, “that we have es-
tablished an armistice, I hope for like success in
the arrangement of an amicable alliance, looking
to the furthering of my interests and your re-
venge. You see I am quite frank with you.
That is my nature. Perha it would be more
modest and nearer the mar to say, that I have
found when honesty is, and when it is not, the
best policy. It suits me just now to admit that
I have no great love for Owen Adair. To put
the case in a nutshell, he is in my way. I want
him removed. He himself' has given me my op-
portunity. I mean to avail myself of it if I

can.

“ It would be an easy matter to shoot him. I
have in choice, of shooting him in the back, or
calling im out under the code. In the first case,
aside from personal prejudico against such a
method, I should run the risk of an interview
with Judge Lynch not at all to my taste. In
the second,I should be certain to lose what

‘little popularity I now possess. Adair is a

ood-looking young fellow whom everybody
ikes. I am a crabbed old scoundrel whom no-
body particularly favors. Ergo: I must not
kill him—with my own hand!

“ But a beautiful woman can do anything in
this country especially if she has a lausnble
grievance. As your abettor. I shoul become
nteresting, instead of execrable. It is the old
distinction—tweedleodum, and tweedle-dee!

“ This, then, is my proposal: I Will help you
to find the runaway, if you will agree to shoot
himwhen found. That of! our hands, I have
another proposal to tender. I make no secret
of it. You shall see your we to the endbe—
fore {on set out. You alreat y know an re-
spect ul presumption. If my wooin has n
a little stormy, believe that is no rrier to a
union far more satisfactory than the jogtrot
that commonly passes under the name of mar-

second proposal, then, will be, to
save you mm the consequences of your act, and
be rewarded with the custody of your charming
person for life."

“Give me my revenge!” cried Ada, with a
siliddennoutburst, “ and then ask anything you

ease.

As if to ratify this iniquitous bond, she thrust
forward her hand. *

The colonel lifted it to his lips with formal re-

spect.

“But,” cried the girl, suddenly snatching it
away, “you must prove this. If you are de-
ceivmg me—”

“ Could I aflord to? If you are equal to the

“ I am equal to anythin . Lead on.”

“Your horse is not free . If you will honor
me by accepting a mount the best blood in my
stables, we can save considerable time.”

Anything that promised to shorten her sus-

nse was welcome; so, on the fieetest of the

tuckian’s stock, and backed by a sufficient

A body-guard of his men to make it safe to ven-

ture among enemies, they aet;out for the boomers’

camp.

Oklahoma was not the first scene of Colonel
Flood’s enterprise, by any means. He had rang-
ed cattle from Texas to Montan? and from the
masonri to the foot-hills. He ad been in all
sortsof cattle wars, hence had gathered about
him a company of picked men upon every one
of whom he could rely to back him wherever be

It was a crowd of choice spirits, then, that he

\ ‘1 took into the boomers’ cam . They dashed in

with as little ceremony as i the boomers were

but serfs, and the doughty colonel and his crew

th ir masters of a conquering race. '

w ' urly scowls were taken no account of, and
the demand for information was peremptory.

“ Where is Gawain Pancoastl”
1“ He’s gone 0 .”

' “ Where?”

“ That I don’t know. He’tenda tohis own

“business, he does!”

Of course the intimation of the tone was:
“ Go and do likewise l”
“ Come! come!" retorted the colonel, with the

f hushty overbearing of a commander, “I am
not here for nonsense.

I myself am thoroughly
informed as to what has taken your leader
awn . What I want is, that you shall state the

Km tothislad

» “ Ywfll tell 1:89” petitioned Ada, somewhat
u y.
He’s gone gunnin’ for one o’ the mandrel-

x

II
(V

     

 

  

0’ your crowd,” said the man, looking at the
colonel. “ Does that suit you i’

“ Tolerably,” answered the colonel, un-
disturbed. “ Now, then—to be a little more
explicit. After which particular scoundrel of
m crowd, as you say i”

‘ Adair—l”

The boomer added a formidable expletive.

Under other circumstances Colonel Flood
would have taken him to task for it, and forced
him to apologize for the disrespect to the lady.
Not to complicate matters just now, be ignored
it, and went on:

“ Very good! Will you tell us why he is look-
ing for Captain Adair l”

But here another lip took up the tale.

“Let me see him! I want to git my eye on
the robber!"

It was the wild, hysterical voice of a woman.
She came elbowing her way through the crowd.
It was Pearl‘s mother, almost frantic with grief.

“So you’re one of ’em, be you?” she cried,
standing within the circle gathered about the
Cattle King and his dependents. “ You’re one
o’ the kings 0’ this country, that goes about
stealin’ poor folks’s children away from ’em?
And this hyar is one 0’ your women-folks, I
reckon. I wonder how you’d take it—what
you’d say—what you’d do—if one of our folks
was to steal her in the night, and carry her the
Lord onl knows where to? I wonder the good
Lord 100 3 down on you, an' don’t stamp you
out, root an’ branch! Oh Lord! oh Lord! oh
Lord 1”

She threw her hands up wildly, and burst into
heart-broken sobs.

“Somebody kill me! I want my Pearl! I
want my little girl!” she moaned. “ Where
have they taken her to? Why don’t somebody
do somet in‘?”

The women of the camp, who had exhausted
every consolation of s h, gathered about her
sobbin , and while t ey sought to draw her
from t 8 spot with their arms about her, cast
looks of unutterable hatred, upon the colonel,
and not less upon Ada.

One would have expected the girl to be touch-
ed by the spectacle. Instead she regarded Mrs.
Pancoast with hard hatred, as the mother of
the girl who was the immediate cause of her
own misery.

Forcing her horse so as to intercept her re-
moval from the spot, she addressed her:

“ Are on the mother of the—the girl they
call Pear Pancnast?” she asked.

“Of course she’s her mother!” answered one
of the women for her, angrily.

“Do you mean to say that the girl has been
carried off!”

“Yes she has!” by the same self-appointed
spokeswoman, in the same tart tone, Mrs. Pan-
coast repressing her outward grief to listen.

“ Against her will?” persisted Ada, quivering
in every nerve as she drew forth the intelligence
shat was filling her soul with the blackness of

espa r.

“Would she «go if she could help itl. Would
you?” demand the woman, with the anger of
one who is forced by inquisition into makin a

ood case by stating what he does not really
love.

“By whoml” asked Ada, careless of every-
thin but the significant facts.

“ ho was to do it but Cap Adair! She
hated him and all of you 1”

“Unless I am erroneous] informed,” inter-
posed the colonel, drvly, “ t 9 girl quite recent-
y saved his life, out of the hands of those who
—loved him!” v

Ada did not need this reminder. She knew of
the lynching, and the rescue followed by a pis-
tel-shot from the rescuer’s own hand.

All this only showed the sionate nature of
Pearl’s love. Jealous to separation, was it
likely that her love would be less headlong?
Then what easier than a reconciliation and
elopementl

‘ Let us go!” she said, turning diazily to Colo—
nel Flood. “I have heard enough. Now find
them for me!” ‘

Her marble face, her scintillating eyes, show-
ed that she was in proper condition for the work
he had marked out for her.

He found the trail of pursued and pdrsuers,
and set out upon it.

Ada Savoy rode like a Nemesis.

In the days that followed. she never relaxed
that tense look of resolve. She knew no weari-
ness.

" Let us reach the end i” was all she said.

And the end was reached. The hut in which
Owen lay white and still, bathed in a flood of
liggt from surrounding bonfires, a pistol-shot,
an ——

“They have killed him!” cried the girl, who
till now had been as a monument of stone.

Then away she burst, mounted on Colonel
Flood’s fieetest mare.

In vain did he strive to overtake and detain
her. She distanced him at every bound, till,
fiingin herself out of the saddle at the door of
the hu , she rushed in, not ten secondsafter a
second shot rung out on the night.

Before the colonel got where he could see into
the house, a woman’s direful shriek was follow-
odbyathlrd and last-hot.

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Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

 

CHAPTER XXIII.
A TEST or LOVE.

IN the dull apathy of one who has abandoned
all hope in life, Pearl Pancoast awaited the re-
turn of her captor.

She had lost the lover on whom she had set
her whole heart; she had the intimation of a
plot against the life of her father, doubtless ere
this carried into effect. Life held no promise
else. Why should she care for the miserable
remnant left her?

She had no doubt of Seth’s intentions. He
hoped to break her spirit, and then force her
into a listlessly submissive union with himself.

She facad this prospect with a cold, dull, life-
less look in her eyes. If she had any plan of her
own in reference to the matter, it lay hid below
the surface.

Seth returned in evident good humor.
thin was turning out to his liking.

“ ow I’m ready fur a word with you,” he
began, presenting himself to Pearl, with a look
of settled resolve in his eyes.

The girl at once gathered that this was merely
formal. Whatever her reception of them, he
would carry his purposes to completion unwav-
erin ly.

“ It were better to spare your breath, and in-
form me of your plans throu h your acts.”

“ It suits me better to ta k the thing over.
You see, I’ve changed my key. Thar ain’t no
use to beg an’ whine when you’ve got the whip
end. 1’m ’10win’ to talk business now, withOut
no ifs nor buts.” ‘

“ What do you want of me, then, as briefly as
you can put it?”

“I want you to marry me.” '

“ You have had your answer in that matter.
Let us be strictly business-like, and avoid ifs
and buts. Now, what else? I shall be glad to
dismiss you as soon as possible."

“ It’ll be some time before you dismiss me, ma-
dame! But I’m willin to let your answer stand
as final—for the present! The next thing then,
is, may I trouble you to come along 0’ mei I’ve
got somethin’ interestin’ to show ye.”

Pearl intimated her willingness to follow him
at once.

He ordered all hands into the saddle; and they
resumed their interrupted march.

An hour, however, brought them to the out-
laws’ but where Owen Adair had last looked up-
on the light of the world.

The rufiians and Seth’s own men were loung-
ing about indiscriminately—all, however, out-
side the hut. Leaving those he had just brought
up to find companionship with their old com-

Every-

rades, Seth dismounted Pearl before the door of ‘

the but, and led her within.

The but consisted of but one apartment, in-
closed by the four walls, and shut in from the
sk by the sloping root.

{t was evidently used by its rude tenants for
all the purposes of living. Cooking utensils, as
repulsive as pot-black and grease could make
them, were huddled indiscriminately in the
corner of the fireplace at the gable end of the
house. Blankets were disposed so as to aflord
undoubted evidence of Occupancy by men who
probably slept with their boots on. The trap-
Bings of man and beast littered the floor or

ung against the wall, according to the mood of
the owner.

A cursory glance showed all this to Pearl, and
what appeared to be a man yet asleep in the
corner.

Havin no interest in the stranger, she turned
and fa Seth as soon as she had crossed the

threshold. '

“ Do on intend teshelter me re with an in-
discrim ate crowd of your ru y friends?”
she asked.

“I’ll trouble you to step this wag,” was his
answer, leading the way toward t e seeming
sleeper.

After a lance of doubt and surprise, Pearl
followed h m coldly.

She did not look at the man in the corner till
she came quite near, and realized that this re-
cumbent figure was their destination.

When she dhi look at it, she saw with a thrill
of dread that it lay on its back, as indicated by
its veiled outlines, the blanket being pulled up
over its face.

“ A dead man i” was her inward comment.
“ What have we to do with that?"

Seth stooped, and without warning drew the

.blanket OR the face.

The girl stared, her eyes dilating, her mouth
slowly o ning, her breath suspended.

Atlas , wit one wild shriek she clasped her
head in her hands.

For a moment it seemed as if the shockwould
deprive her of her reason; but then relief‘ came,
and with a heartbroken cry she cast herself on
the motionless body.

“ Owen! Owen! Oh, my darling! Owen !”

Short, sharp, a cry of terror and agonised ap-

l.
p«She had seized his head between her hands,
and stok it as if to awaken him.

His fiesh was cold and clammy. The head
rgl‘led at her will. The eyes, half open, did not
c nge.

“ d! dead! dead!” she wailed rocking her
body from side to side. ’ ,

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Seth watched her in grim silence.

His face was not a pleasant one to see just ,

then. It was not agreeable occupation to
watch the woman he intended to make his wife
betray so much emotion over his late rival, per-
haps.

Suddenly she desisted from her grief, and
turned to him.

“ And you,” she said, rising slawly to her
feet, with a stony calm as suddenly superseding
the gust of grief, “ you are his murderer!”

“ I’ve hyearcd.” answered Seth, with some-
thing of Colonel Flood’s humor, “ that you your—
self had the last shot at him.”

The girl started violently.

“ 1?” she cried, in dismay, looking back at the
still figure.

“ Didn’t you?” asked Seth.

“But he did not die of that! _ Oh, 1 his mur-
deressl” panted the wretched girl, beginning to
wring her hands.

“ I didn’t an that,” answered Seth.

“ You didn t say that?”—whirling fiercely
upon him. “ Dare you trifle with me in such a.
matter? What is he doing here? Who brought
him here, if not you? These horrible men are
all your creatures.”

“ I brought him hyer fast enough. Did I deny
that? What I said was, you had the last shot at
him: an ef he dies, you’ll be to blame.”

“ If he dies! He is not dead, then?”

She was on her knees again in an instant once
more striving to recall him to life; trying to
open his eyes with her fingers.

“ He is dead 1” she almost shrieked. “ If he is
alive, wake him! What is the matter with him?
Oh, my darling! my murdered darlin 1”

And she cast herself prone on the
fell to kissing the unresponsive lips.

“Owen! wen!” she whispered into his dull
ear. '“ I loved you! I love you now, more than
my very soul! Oh, can‘t you hear me? Owen!
Oh, Owen, wake for only a moment!”

“ I thou ht we was to talk business,” inter-
posed Set , savagely. “You’ll have a chance
to show how much ou love him presently.
But, of you’ll git off 0 him, an’ not smother out
of him the mite 0’ life he’s got left, I'll show on
that he hain’t kicked the bucket yet. Git o of/
him, will you?”

He pulled her away.

“ Show me that he lives ” she leaded, sitting
where Seth’s rough grasp had 10 t her, with her
hands locked hard in her lap.

“ Ho, Davel” shouted Seth turning toward
the door.

The chief of the outlaws, who was sitting on a
log, amusing himself by jabbing the point of a
very bri ht-bladed knife, of unusual shape, into
the w , while he listened to a rather highly
spiced narrative of personal adventure from one
of Seth‘s earlier party, rose at the call, but stop-
ped to say, with a drawl:

“ You ie like a book, pardner. I must hyear
you ag’in, some time, when you‘ve made up an-
other one 0’ them.” .

Then coolly turning away, careless of the
flush and stare of the story-teller, he strode
leisurely into the but.

“Wul. boas,” he said. on entering, “ what’s
wanted now?”

" I reckon I hain’t got the ban 0’ the resur-
rection business,” replied Seth. ‘ How am I to
show the lady that this sncouer ain‘t the stifl he
looks. He does look most uncommon like i
Dave,” he added, anxiously “ I’ve trusted It
all to you.” ,

“ An' I know my business. What do you
want! To have him out 0’ that!"

“No. Let him stay a while. Jest show us
that he ain’t dead.”

“ Nothin' easier, ma’am,” was Dave’s cool a.-
surance to Pearl.

He had had the . cc, on enterin the house,
to observe a forms it which Seth neglect-
ed. He had taken of! is hat.

He bowed when he addremed the girl, with an
case which at once marked a man not of the
radar order; whatever his degradation in crime.

Taking a bit of broken looking-glass from a
chink in the wall, he held it for a moment over
Owen’s lips, and then showed it to Pearl.

“ You see, ma’am, that he breathes.”

“ But what is the matter with him?” she
quavered. “ Whydoes he look so! Oh, sir! if
you can help him—”

“That’s enough fur the present,” interposed
Seth. “ You know that he is alive. To satisfy
yo:] I will so that be has been drugged. I
m e him thin that I was givin’ him adose 0’

’ison; but I wasn't, all the same. Blast him!
had that much satisfaction out of him. But
he’s all right when we wanttostraighten him
round—that is to say, tf we want to. The little
lcmteh YO“ gave him was only a love-token.
He couldn’t pick it out am some he’s had sence.

“But let’s git back to bu ness. Air you sat-
isfied that he s alive?”

“ What is this about his being drugged?"
asked Pearl, turnin to Dave.

“It is ustas has u re resented to ou,”he
auswe . “Nothiniis to upprehen ad from
it. And the wounds e has are not serious."

“He may live!”

“ There was the tremnlous eagerne- of love in
her voice and in her clasped hands.

y, and

 

“ To a hundred years, from all the harm this
does him.”

“ Oh, if I might believe it!”

“ You may, implicitly.”

“ Truly?”

She stlll hung upon his assurance.

“ You have my word of honor, madame.”

As the outlaw said this, with a ceremonious
bow, his voice lost its assumed uncouthness in
the refinement of gentle breeding.

“ And who are you, sir?—if you will excuse
me!” panted Pearl, in wonder.

“ Have you ever heard of Dave Dirk, the
Kin of No Man’s Land ?” he asked.

“ h, yes!” assented Pearl.

“ 1 hope you have heard him spoken of as a
man of his word.”

“ I have indeed.”

“ I am he, at your service! I assure you
again, you need not be apprehensive from this
gentleman’s appearance.”

“ Oh, I will believe you !" murmured Pearl,
taking his hand in both her own, in her grati-

tude.

“That’ll do fur you, Dave,” interposed Seth.
“ I wish’t I had your style. Thar’s a heap in
winnin’ ways, an’ that’s a fact.”

Dave bowed, and retired with his usual com-
pliance, but disregardful of an involuntary move-
ment on Pearl’s part to detain him.

“ Now to business ag’inl” said Seth, briskly.
“ We’ve settled that p’int. His nibs is alive an’
kickin’. Sofur, so good! Now, in the light 0’
that fact, I beg leave to trot out my leetle pro-
position ag’in. Will you marry me?”

“ Never!” cried the girl with an outburst of
in sligpant repudiation. “ Now less than ever be-
fore!

“ Hold on! You ain’t down to hard-pan yit.
The day you marry me I start that chap on the
back track, to be set down jest whar I picked him
up, as good as new.”

“ What! I am to purchase his safety with the
sacrifice of my life?’

“ Waal, I reckon that’s about the size of it.”

“ You monster 1”

“ You’d better not git used to too many pet
names 0’ that sort. They might come in unhandy
beécgre tin; childgg.” h to l

egr was muc outraged re .

“ Ye see,” ursued Seth, “ you set a‘ligap by
him. You’d ate to see me sp’ile him. I’d hate
to have to, myself. Now, I kind 0’ calcalated
you’d druther be Mrs. Seth Wendover. He’d go
through life callin’ you blessed, ye know. It’ll
be better’n nothin’, to have his gratitude.”

“ And do you mean. to say that you would ac-
cept a wife who loved another man sufficiently to
give herself to the degradation of life with such
a hound as you, for his sake?” '

"‘Oh, I’ll take you as I kin git you.”

“You will never get me, under any condi-
tions!”

“ That’s final! I’d druther you’d say the
other way.”

“ That is final 1”

“ All right! all right! You know your own
mind.”

Seth blew a shrill whistle.

The girl stared to see what would come of it.

The door of the hut, which Dave Dirk had
closed after him, was thrown open less gently,
and in strode a couple of as couscienceless ruf-
flans as were evor at the bidding of a ruthle-

master.
h saith indicated his pleasure with a wave of the
an .

The men set about his bidding as if it were
pre-arranged. -

One of them took a rawhide lasso down from
where it bungeon a peg in the wall, and holding
a bight of it hind im as an awkward jum
holdsaskippinfigipe swun it upward so t at
it caught on a k ven n the ridge-pole of
the house.

Tossing the noose-end to his companion he
walked in the opposite direction with the and he
retained.

The second ruman ran the sli knot back so
as toeula ethe noose to his ikin , and ad-
vanced wit it toward where Owen y, all un—
conscious. -

Mea while Seth stepped to a window and
called:

“ Waal, boys, if any 0’ you care to take in this
circushit won’t cost ye nothin’.”

Wit out waitingl for a second bidding, the
crowd without ga ered about, some staring in
at the windows, some crowding in through the

door.

“ Oh, what are you about to do!” quavered
Pearl, seeing the man kneel beside Owen, and
lift his head so as to slip “the coil of the lamo
under it, and draw it tight about his neck.

“ To finish of! this chap hyar,” answered Seth,
unconcernedly.

“ To hang him!" cried Pearl, aghast.

“ 0’ course. He ain’t no manner 0’ use tonone

of us.

“ Pull away thar. Steve. Lend him a hand,
some of ye, will« e?”
They ulled w th a will; and with a sierci
shriek earl saw the man she loved ragggd
from the shake-down in which he lay. out upon

the floor.
“ Up with him!” shouted Seth.

, ’ it ‘- '. . ,‘f‘
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And a second pull had him half suspended,
with his limp legs dragging on the floor.

But n0w the girl was on her knees, with her
arms about the iody, trying to lift its weight.

" Stop! stop! stop!” she shrieked.

The men siacked the rope, and the body sunk
in a heap on the floor in her embrace.

Seth began to swear at them for their for-
bearance.

“ Hold on, Can!” ‘ventured one of them.
“ Maybe the lady’s changed her mind.”

Seth turned to Pearl, as if this suggestion came
to him unexpectedly.

She knelt with her face resting upon Owen’s,
sobbing convulsively.

“ I’ll give you one more show,” he said,
sulkily. “I don’t reckon it’ll do no good. Ef
you say it’s a whack between us, back to his
ranch he goes, all 0. K. Ef you stick to your
no, up he goes on the run, an’ no more foolish-
ness.’

“ Oh, are you man!” cried the girl, turning to
the crowd, “ and can you stand and see this
wickedness—even share in it?”

“ They’re my men!” declared Seth, “ paid fur
with my money; an’ they carry out my ordefl.
What do you as i Is it a go, or no?”

Then the gir looked at him, with a sudden
chan e in her manner.

“ hat is it you propose?” she asked, deliber-
ately.

“ Marry me, an’ his nibs goes free; refuse, an'
I string him up before your eyes!”

“What guaranty have I that you will keep
your promise, if I make the sacrifice?”

The words seemed nearly to choke her; yet
she forced herself through them.

“ You have my word.

“ Than which nothing is more worthless.”

“ Waal I reckon it’ll have to do e.”

“ It wil not do me. Why sbou d such a vil-
lain as you scru is to prove himself a liar of
equal quality? on cannot expect me to trust
the purchase-money in your hands till I am as-
sured of my purchase.”

“ I will swear—" ,

“ An oath on such lips!”

“ Don’t you ’low as my oath is good for no‘
thin’i”

“ Less than nothing i”

“ Waal, then, I reckon we can’t dicker.
Somebody’s got to resk somethin’.”

“ Let the risk be yours, then. I think Ican

ive you better security. This is my proposition :
t me see Owen Adair safe in his ome. I will ‘
then marry you.” _

“Oh, no!” sneered Seth, with a knowing leer.
“ You’re mighty cunnin’; but I wasn’t born last
year myself.”

“ You will not accept my proposal?”

(I  P,

“ If I swear!” 4.”

Seth wavered. He wanted her. But his na- -
tive villainy made him doubt her.

“ It’s too 00d,” he said. “ I’ll stand b my
own offer. hat, or nothin’. You kin ta a it, ,
or leave it alone. The more you talk ahoutit 
the more I’m gittin’ out o’ the notion o’ the h .;4‘
thin . It wa’n’t my idee in the first place. In,
3:51!” to fix that snoouer; an’ I want to 1101!, 

Was it possible that his craving for reve 
would get the better of his passion after all, 3
cause him to abandon the project he had carried" '
so far or was he only trying to scare her into i
00m? eel ‘ -~,j ;

The look be bent upon Owen was certainly 
wolflsh. ‘ i .

Trembling in ever nerve, Pearl looked about, 
as if for help. W0 d she sacrifice herself if as»
cured of it: eflcacy in saving the man she loved-,_§“ 
in spite of the belief that he had abandoned her 5 ‘4
for another!

“ ” said Dave Dirk, advancing and
bowing. “ I understood you to say that you had
heard of me.” '

“ l have heard of you,” admitted Pearl. »

“ Have you heard that my word is inviolato"?
when given, whatever the cost to myself!” '-

“ That is your reputation, as I was told.” ”

“Iwishtohelp cu, ifIcan. Iseethatyaur
heart is set on sav ng this gentleman.” .

“ Oh, believe me, it is!” burst forth Pam.
cla infi her hands in tremulous hope.

“ i you trust to me, then, if pledge at
self to see‘that the engagement with referoned
your friend is strict! married out?” -9

“Oh, sir!” cried t e r1, springin ' forward;
and seizing his hand, “i you are wi imam
friend me, why not save me from-this
fate! You can save us both, if you will.”

She was sobbing in her eagerness. One would
gave thought her distress would touch any

eart.

Dave Dirk proved iuvulnerahle. Shaking '
head. he said: ‘
“ You must excuse me from interfering in
other man’s affairs. I never tolerate any in
ference in my own. But 1 can and will use all!
an a nt is faithfully observed.” - .
“ ut in common humanity! Such a M
as that has no rights.” .
“I have u hing to do with humanity’Mu-s
sweied Dave, coldly. '“ I am willing tohefpyui
in the silly way consistent with ma 
The " i

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f 28

“ So, then,” she said, finally, “ this is the very
best I can do?”

“ So it appears. I know of no alternative.”

“ And on pledge your honor to the return of
this out eman to his home, at once, and without
bodi y harm?” .

“ I do, madame.”

Pearl looked at Owen, slowly wringing her
hands.

“ Leave me!” she said, waving her hand to
them. “ Give me five minutes alone with him.”

Dave glanced significantly at Seth. The latter
indicated his compliance to the others. The
room was vacated, and the faces retired from
the windows.

Alone, the girl threw herself on the body of

‘ her inmnsihle lover. In that first hour when
2. they plighted their troth she had not given such
, evidence of tenderness as she did now that he
could not know anything of it.
-. Presently she went to the door of the but and
‘ announced:
“I am ready 2”

CHAPTER XXIV.
our or run JAWS or DEATH.

Now that the end of his long plotting was I
really attained, Seth Wendover could scarcely
realize his ood luck, as he called it.

He stare at Pearl, as if to see if she truly
meant it.

, The girl was as white as marble. Her eyes

,did not waver. They burned like coals of fire.
She looked straight at him, with a steadiness that
was a little disconcerting. Somehow he felt as
if she were takin his measure.

' l “Waal, I’ll be lowed!” he ejaculated.

After looking about a moment rather aimless-
‘ IyI he went on:

‘ Ef I’d counted on this thing comin’ so ea ,
I’d ’a’ had things in better shape—I would so.’
, Turning to Pearl, he explained:

“ I’ve got the minister to git. Oh, it’s all
" right. I kin git him fast enough. But ef I’d
’10wed as you d come down so easy, I’d ’a’ had
‘- 3, him on the ground. But I won’t kee ye waitin’
,Ion . I’ll take ye while ye’re in the umor, you

,.»bet

f? He then invited her to make herself comfort-
2,’ able while he was gone; and she went back into
f, the hut, while be mounted his horse and rode

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away

 H s last charge, as he rode away in exuberant
. rits, was:

 “Boys, start some bonfires around this hyar
;_' ranch a ’in’ my gittin’ back. And knock in the
p head 0’ e whisky-bar’l at my ex use. I want
 some gay doin’s at my weddin', I in tell you l”
j The boys were in no wise reluctant to compl
g with this request; and when Seth returned:
? somewhat after nightfall, the place was as light
i.  as day, and the company as merry as he could
 {5; >haV8 desired.

w; ‘ He was accompanied by a wretched specimen
 of humani‘g, a man, plainly. who had gone to
'~ the bad. is dress in its out bore some re-
‘sniniscences of a calling once filled at least with

.regectahility. -

e was now frowzy, as only a confirmed
inshriate can become.

Seth ushered him into the house, and apolo-
gised for his appearance before his face, with an
unconcern which showed that the man had no
' self-respect to be considered. '

“This hyar ain’t a very promisin’ specimen;
but he’s the best I could git; an’ i reckon he kin
tie on up as tight as anybody. I never went in ‘,
fur frills myse f; an’ he he’ll do fur me, ef he’ll .
do far on. ’

Pear looked at the candidate for her approv- .

“Endgment with undisguised contempt. '
. . defied his shabby hat and bowed before I
her in fawning humility.

“I’ve seen better days, madam,” he said. i
 .This is not a country in which a servant of the '
,‘7 Lord is likely to prosper.”

' ‘ “Put a compress on that snooser!” shouted
one of the revelers. “ Don’t yesee the lady’s
israisin’? Blamed of he don’t gag me;
n’ ain’t nowa s nice.”
person turned and bowed de-
yat his depreciator. ,
en,” he said, his weak and watery
wavering as they rested on the floor, “ I am
to perform a certain ofilce. I hope to ac:
- t myself in that acceptance. Meanwhile I
  your forbearance. I know thatI am
not an ornament to my profession. But other
_ n have been unfortunate as well. It is pos-
feible that even some of you do not recall the
past with entire satisfaction.”

l haw! haw! How’s that! Get ye
, Sam! The non ain’t no slouch, I swear!
’im a show ys; give ’im a show.”
jiAndtiiythis little readiness of retort, deliv-
cred as apologising for his very existence, the
bed man won his place of tolerance among

them.

“Waal gents! let’s to business” ro

h rub n his hands in self ' tiilalifitg.l
Who’s to 5; ve awa the bride? ave, I’d as
shave you furs ather-in-law as anybod I

i.
I
r.
,.

 

   
  
  
    
  
  
  
   
    
   
   
 
 
  
  
   
  
   
   
    
  
  
  
    
  
   
   
  
 
   
 
 
   
  

 

   
 
  

 

I.-
u

w." Step up, ole man, an’ do the po ite

i t

“N.

“If agreeable to the lady,” said Dave, with
his never-failing bow.

“ Isn’t this enough of a mockery as it is?”
asked Pearl, severely. “ Let us et through
with it with as little delay as possib e.”

“ 0h, waal, I’m bound to have the thing hold
water,” insisted Seth. “ You don’t leave out
nothin’, ye onderstand, fur lawyers to quibble
over in a divorce court.”

“You need have no fears of such a resort,”
said Pearl, looking at him in a way that might
have made some men’s flesh creep.

The marriage service was then gone through
with, Pearl giving her responses in a voice that
quivered with intensity, not with weakness, and
the twain were pronounced man and wife.

For a moment the principals of this drama
stood regarding each other. Then Seth sud-
denly tossed his hat to the roof-tree, and burst
into a shout of triumphant laughter.

Pearl turned from im to Dave Dirk.

“ I have performed my part of the contract?”
she asked, coldly.

“ Madame, you have.”

“ It is entirely complete.”

“ Unguestionably.

“An , whatever happens, you are now bound
to see that the gentleman for whom I have sac-
rificed myself is returned unharmed to his home."

“ I am so bound.”

" May God requite you as you prove faithful
to the obligation l”

“ Amen, madame, with all my heart!”

"I thank you. You have not dealt generously
with me; but I will forgive that if you are now
just. I thank you again.”

“ Madame, 1 am indebted to you for the privi-
lege of serving you. Believe me, I would have
done more, had I not been bound by a prior ob-
ligation.”

The girl turned from him, back to her hus-

nd.

“ Have I kept my engagement?" she asked.

“ You have so,” replied Seth.

“ I promised to marry you. I said nothing as
to what was to follow.

“ Oh, I’ll look out for that. Don’t you worry.”

The girl hesitated a moment, and then asked:

“ Do you mean to force me to live with you as
your wife?”

" You bet your sweet life! What did I marry
you fur?”

“ Not for what that marriage will bring you.
Do you know what I had resolved upon before I
consented to this desecration?”

“ It don’t make no manner 0’ difference what
you resolved upon. It’s what I resolved u n
that is to be law in my family, my dear. ’ve
been curtchy-bendin’ to you while you had the
rope~end; but from this out 1 rule the roost, or
thar’ll be music in the air!"

“ Your reign will be brief. I mean to kill
you I”

And with the threat a revolver flashed into
view in her hand.

“ Oh! You do, ehi” cried Seth. “ Pepper
away.”

And dropping his hands upon his knees, he
leaned toward her, as if to afford her the most
favorable opportunity.

The grin o derision on his face sent the blood
rushing back upon her heart with a fearful
doubt. But steadyinfi herself, she took aim di-
rectly betwoen the vi ain’s eyes, and pulled trig-
ger.

The room rung with the sharp report. The
smoke cleared away. Both had not winked.

“ So! you ’lowed I’d leave you with that leetle
gim~crack. did you!” he laughed. “Ye didn’t
’low as I seen ye salt it down when you got into
yer clo‘s. Ef you hadn‘t never sle ’ none, ye
might ’a’ had me now. But ye didn t close my
eye, though ve closed yer own. Try it ag’in.”

Bu Pearl’s arm sunk nerveless to her side,
her face blanched with an agony unutterahle.

She reeled, and might have fallen, but at that
instant her wandering eye can ht si ht of that
which sent the stagnant blood un ing wildly
through her veins again.

There was a heav tramp of feet at the door,
any a crowd pressed u, bearing a bound man in
their midst.

At sight of him Pearl uttered a shriek, and
then leaped toward him with the fieetnees of a

deer.

“ 0h, father, father,-save me!”

And she fell at his feet, clasplng his knees.

“ Save e?” repeated her father, beginning to
tu at his nds, though not wildly as yet.

is e e had caught sight of Seth.

“ Se l Seth !” he cried. “ You hyar? You’ve
got heri"

“ You bet I have, ole pard i” answered Seth,
laughing. as he swaggered up with his hands in
his pockets.

“ But how’s this?” asked the boomer chief, in
bewilderment at the manner of his subordinate.
“ Whar’s the villain—Adair? Have you put a
bullet through him? An’ thar’s some mistake.
These hyar seem to be your friends. They’ve
tru-ed me up as you see. I thought ’em Adair’s
scavingersl” ,

The seem of the old fellow was fine to see.

“ Oh, father!” moaned Pearl, “ this is the
scoundrel who tore me awa from you. He is
the traitor-Seth himself! him or me! The

r ye cowards?

 

Captain Adair, the Cattle King.

world isn’t big enough to hold us both after
this. But, oh, you cannotl—he has you too, my
poor father!”

Standing with his feet wide apart, Seth tip-
ped his hat over his eyes, and began to scratch
the back of his head. Insolence could have
taken no more exasperatin attitude.

“ Is this so?” panted old ason Pancoast, after
staring a moment to take the situation in.

" It air the melancholy fact, dad!” assented
Seth, with a grin. “ I kin call you dad now. It
is my supreme happiness to be your dutiful son-
in-law.”

“ My what?”

“ Son-in-law! son-in-lawi Don’t you know
what a son-in-iaw is? He’s the biggest dose you
ever swallered, ole man—this one. He’s like to
stick crossways in your throat, an’ choke ye.”

“ Father, he forced me to it! 1 have detested
him from the first.”

Then stout old Jason Pancoast looked around
upon the crowd of his captors.

“ Air thar any men in this crowd? I’m calliu’
fur men with blood in their veins! Be ye all of
Who’s got the spunk to take these

yar ropes off me, an’ let me stand before this
sound, man to man? I’ll make a son-in-law of
iml’

Seth looked around upon them questioningly,
yet with perfect confidence. He was not disap-
pointed. Not a man moved.

“ You see?” he laughed. “You ain’t no ood,
ole man. You hain’t got no backin‘ in this yar
crowd.”

“ What’s the reason he hain’t?" demanded a
voice that rung out like a clarion blast.

There was a rush through the door and win-
dows. a moment of wild confusion, and two par—
ties stood arrayed against each other with drawn
revolvers.

“ Ha, ha! ha, he!” shouted old Jason Pan-
coast.

He stood unbound at the head of one of the
parties. Revolvers were being thrust into his
hands on either side. Aleck Hoover stood shoul-
der to shoulder with him!

” Hold on l” cried the sturdy old man. “ We
hain’t ready toopen the ball yet. Thsr’s only
one chunk 0’ meat in that crowd what I want.
Don't nobody sp’ile it fur me, gentlemen l”

No one needed any explanation of his words.
TLe were too used to that sort of a challenge. .

“ t seems to me,” interposed Dave Dirk, in a
voice as composed as if nothing unusual were in
progress, “ that that is the gentlemanly thing to
do. It saves a lot of good men that nobody
cares to lose, and affords eater satisfaction to
those really concerned. have always viewed
it as a privilege myself.”

He said this as if it were only a casual sug-
gestion, which might be accepted and acted
upon or let alone.

Every eye was turned upon Seth Wendover.

His face had lengthened considerably. The
insoleuce had all gone out of it. It was now
fairly bloodless.

But public sentiment was making a demand
upon him, and his woifish instincts came to his
support.

‘ It’s a pity to have to shoot yer father-in-
law—an’ on yer weddin’-day too,” he said, with
an affectntion of carelessness. “ But ef nothin’
else will do‘him, I reckon I’ll have to accommo-
date him.”

“That’ll suit me to death!” cried old Jason,

eagc‘igy.

“ 9 may end better than we began—with a
little gentiemanly deportment,” observed Dave
Dirk, with fine sarcasm.

This was the first expression of Opinion on
what he had allowed to go forward w thout in-
terferenoe.

“ We don’t want too much room,” suggested
Pancoast. “ We’d crter make this hyar plans
do cornerways ”

“ I’m agreeable,” declared Seth. “ I like quick
work when I’ve got an to do.”

By tacit ascent, Alec Hoover acted as Jason’s
second. and Dave Dirk as Seth’s.

While they were coming to an iigreement,
Pearl hung for a moment in her father’s arms.
She told him all, in a gush of passionate words,
and their reconciliation was complete.

Then Aleck held his hand, perhaps for the last
time. in an iron grip.

“ How came you to be on hand jest in the
nick 0‘ time? I’ll never forget ye, for this
chance! ’

“ I was hyar before you, ole man; an’ I
knowed you was comin’. But I was pin in‘ fur
double stakes. Ef I fought for you, might
give these scalawags warnin’, an’ so lose Pearl;
an’ of I struck fur Pearl I might scare off the
crowd that held you, and lose you. So I con-
cluded to resk all on one blow; an’ you see what
come of it.”

“We’ll see what comes of it in.a minute!
Now stand back, an’ give me a show!”

The principals were placed in opposite corners
of the room. their respective crowds packing
themselves into the other two, so as to leavea
clear space diagonally through the middle.

Seth and his backers filled the gable end fur-
thest from the door, with the still unconscious
Cattle King lying between them, directly oppo-
site the door.

 

 

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Pancoast and his dozen picked men were in ‘ Before they could determine whether to join

the front of the building, with Pearl kneeling in the chase with these new—found friends, if

just beside the doorway. indeed they were friends, the shrill notes of a
Then came the call: bugle sounded a recall, and they found them-
“ Gentlemen, are you ready? One! two! fire l” selves surrounded by the men who had come so
There was a double flash and report. Seth opportuner to their aid.

Wendover fell forward on his face withouta At the head of this party a peared Major

groan. Jason Pancoast turned toward his Browning with a lot of boys in b ue at his back,

daughter, with nsmile and an ineffectual effort while Carl Berkhardt headed a much larger

to speak. party of cowboys.
In a hoarse, hissing whisper, she articulated As these were little less enemies than the
the word: others, the meeting of chiefs that was soon
“ Father!” efl’ected had much the character of a council of

Not she—she could not—but Aleck Hoover war. But, they came to an amiaahio arrange-
sprung across the doorway and received the old ment notwithstanding, the result of which was,
man in his arms. that Carl took possession of his friend, whom

“ He nipped me, Aleck," was the hoarse whis— Dave Dirk relieved in a measure from the effects
per; “ but hedidn‘t fetch mei” ol’ the drug administered. and of the body of the

In the excitement within, nobody noticed the woman he hagi come too late to save.
swift dashing up of a horse. But as Aleck Owen was 0 stupid to know anything or any-
crossed the doorway, another figure—that of a body; but he was alive and in no serious danger.
woman—flashed in. Jason Pancoast went his way with his daugh-

After one dizzy stare around, she sped across ter. Seth’s backers were glad of the chance to
the floor to where Seth Wendover had fallen al- make themselves scarce. Dave Dirk saw the
most upon Owen Adair, and stood over them, destruction of his house without much regret;
staring at the latter. . . _ he could easily re—establish himself.

Of course she thought him the Victim of the Colonel Flood, his machinations exposed, dis-
previous shot, that which Pearl had fired at her appeared, leaving his affairs to be settled by an
. attorney.

“ Owen 1” she shrieked, lifting her left hand to Ethel Browning, saddened by her experience
her heart. of Western life went Eastward with the body

The next instant, and before any one had any of her friend. fiut she was followed in due time
intimation as to what she was about to do, her by one whom, after the battle in No Man’s
right hand went up toher head, and there was Iand, she alwa s accounted a hero. And Car],
an explosion, the significance of which no one if he didn’t to e to broncho-bu’sting, at least
need to be told. . took to woman-taming, declaring that that gave

With a just audible sigh she fell upon the as good evidence of con However it is
body of the man she loved so passionately. only fair to sa that most of is friends think he

While both parties gathered about, for the has an easy jo .
moment rendered obliVious to their hostility by After Oklahoma was opened to settlement, the
this unexpected tragedy, a head was thrust in hostile feelings of the days of contention cooled
at the door—no less a one than that which for so oil? considerably' and then an ex-Cattlo King
many years had meditatod evil on the shoulders “ pre-empted," w thout opposition, an old claim
of Colonel Flood. . of his. And what 'Jason Pancoast always do-

Drawmg back out of sight, he gave utterance declared came true. When Pearl picked out her
to a Signs which caused his own men to prick man, the job was done.
up their ears, though those to whom it was un- Tn END
familiar passed it by unheeded. '

They who had had Jason Pancoast in charge
:lhip ocili‘tlpf the imacro unobserved, and joined B  , H If . . _

e on c ion w t out. .

They were hardly assembled under command  e s a  
of their em loyer, when another set of men at-
tempted to oliow their example. BY “EUT- A- 3- BIKE

These were Seth Wendover’s backers. Their sac Contain Coctufitho ChoporrolCook.
head fallen, they began to fear Jason Pancoast’s gig: ¥=g  gforttuloe-
vengeance. They might have had good reason, ‘ sea snnon sol. a: Main wm. . Shadow.
£33 for ilzlllief interference of Dave Dirk. 3h: :31: Exgfiuhni Ian-rd; {'rfThyfidDesd sausin any

mar c 'e was eager to square accounts w t ‘“ ,0“ '1' 2° '
all who had been concerned in his daughter’s “dint 'u’r'éx... 'w’filih‘lft'h” ‘3" am“
abduction, as soon as he recovered from the
shock of his wound. But, Dirk declared that
the duel made all old scores on that account “0 Wuhan“. m M“ “Mymm
Off- 869 Nana-tn, the Gold King; or, For Seven YooroDood.
However the men felt uneasy under Pan- 4'0 The "emotive-A prentice: or.A Boy WithootaNonu.
coast’s blazing eye, and were beginning to sneak 2:3 Egg-81:13,";m‘,‘$333“ " "m 3‘“
out, when the were stopped by the challen e: 46'! Din-o Dan. the on. - Dudo.

“ Hunt: 0 man crosses that three old :3: instant r:.::x:::'::t.‘:sz:i
“with Co] 1 Flood' i v d Al k :53 Iii-"E" m I a???” .

one s vo ce. sai cc 0 'I "e" '3 e vs-
Hoover. “ What’s he doin’ in this thing i” :2: gh‘l-lflflhim“ xp'm: Kahlil,”

Before an answer could be made the cry went 55? Bro-Mm: Billy"l l'eltlu Rocket.

up.  e‘llroltl‘lllfi .ukestho YoungBEngineri.

. . a ‘ Inne mod Bil ’ Port .
“ The house is aflrei He’s ’lowin‘ to burn us 592 The Boy Eln’l‘er'tzi-f" "y I y ' WM“- y
out!” 605 William 0 Broodwoyé or, The Boy Detectives Big Inning.

At that everybody looked at everybody else i 015 Fighting Ilorry the hief oi Choinod Cyclone.
for an explanation of this new and startling i IY PIIILIP s. wanna.

development.

. . . or Potent-Leather J , Old Rom , or...
“ He’s standin’ in With Seth Wendoveri” sug- ‘ 175 Oops-In Mm“? gunvhothonnofi: 3:133»
gated Aleck Hoover. 1m: Coptoin Mosh: orig::¢::-b.lvh07 Joo’o Def-at.

. .
In a twinklin there was a demonstration 1” "e'p‘rd’th "" ’7'" "mm" "mm"

 

 

 

BY J. C. C(IWDRICK.

on
o-
_

 

s
ossA'r nu 0.7:. n r v .
which made it ()ok as if Seth’s friend. were 808 let‘l’;I ornalnrorflsho «iron».
about to be massacred. ‘ :3:  31"" °" "5' Q1": Pa?"
_ . or, on ,

Thereupon Jake Sha lost his head, and be. : 401 um: iIho-o! lyfi or: in; {0.1m Ronsth.’
ins near the door. he “bed out. throwins his ‘ 22? 33.5? {filinfm '63.: 3.3112?“ °""'
hands above his head. and shouting: Color 0 mm. 'A hams. .un...

“ Boys, don’t shoot! It’s me!" 5'00 ’0 i P' '-

The words were scarce] out of his mouth 1 5:7 11.. 4.“, p"... .{g “Mug

5!? Jlln Cloddeo’o Do at
when there came a remorse execution of Col- 1 g ling", film ‘RACGM Men Do"-
'onel Flood’s threat;and he fell upon his face ‘ an die a'eos'elt't'o tutti: :iZ'ii’z'noboru
stone dead. I 3 Keen Clo... the ouch imp.

“No!” cried Jason Pancoast, while he turned : :1: fififfiffuhfififfl‘gfifim1...”,

eyes of murderous hatred upon his old enemy.
‘ it’s this hyar snooer Who would a Cattle
King he in with but one of his own stripe?"
“ Father 1” implored Pearl, casting herself up-
onTOhwen's body, and encirclitlilg it inh her arms].
on, see ng no relentiog t are, e appea ad 9;”.
to Dave Dirk. ‘  gt: 'frfiaTttfilffiz‘lfl‘. Death hunt.

n I have your tomb that be 'hau be return, 818 Kor-whoo Kor-w oo or, Tho Toronqu of‘l'ooo.
od home unhurt.a  911°:fi'r'xufli'. iifn‘ih‘..1lv:"sl.'t"“ “um”

«I sand by my word against all comers, | 3441's. rap-tin. 'rrl tor.Rnttionoko.tho Tonkowoy.
Whether the fellow who has caged us is the as rs. n.::i‘.£2.2‘:;."°‘.3” $223.13.} 3:." l‘untory
friend of this man. or not, the blow that reaches , g“ ail-.7035? tge My no». '
mamas-t pass through my dead body.” J m n...'.:;. .3...:9:¥;.2'.$.‘;1m.?.::“‘°'. “

en everything was at a stand. Meanwhile ‘ on no...- nnd c o .4... or,'l'ho MIME-ooh.

an ominous crackling gave warning that the  #{2‘fig‘fi'fl "ht" N." W”

flames were not stayed. I! :-

BY BUCKSKIN IA! (Molor Sol. I'lloll.)
.84 gmkfiooky‘o "Boyooo; or. Bonito, too Young Horn.

.46 Giant George or Tho An ’loftb Ron
I75 APIIOIII Jul: 0': Giant (item's Paul W

i 7 The Three Trollonn): Old Mkyon ital-ion“.
But wing was this; while the de}. ed. d9. V no Blair Bill; or 11.. Lynn nit cum.
“bank” whether to rush out in“); the firefight I so; um. Lone dim «.11.. Lineman“.
to fail bbyf the Bullets (of  foes, a rush at
many 00 s, as oruso w eon. the noun s
so .
of furious battle, which quickly began to re- 33 gig}? fiflgififihyfililhu gontosky.
e l

e. m: or. Pnndv sficol .
The prioonerl naked on: to and mi, to“ as am... on"... n. ‘i'roil oftho 1L... won.

. ll , The T 3M5 .
driven off for them. in rn-flu'ii' 3'. or. a. oli-llordosg. 3"

BY HARRY IT. GEORGE.

 

BY FRANK DI'MONT.

130 The Branded "and: or, Tin» Man of Mystery.

127 Wild-Fire, the Boss of the Road.

140 Blue Ilium-o; or, The lireok o‘ Dav Boys of Kathy Bu.
171 Ebon Don: or The Rival Leagues.

[85 Evil ‘ye; or, The Vultures of the Rio Grands.

BY GEDRGE C. JENKS.

4’45 Git Thar (Dwney the Unknown.

492 (:it Thor llwncy’o Pledge.

518 The IDs-Inn" "oi-tor.

551 Double-Curve Dan. the Pitcher Dwtrcliw.

59H Flute, In.» Singer livlw‘tivr.

60$ Tin- I’llld'llt‘l' lk-i-ct'llvc’u Foil: nr. llnuiiif‘ Curve Dan’s
lltnlllulc‘ l’ in .

616 The Ocean Dela-tire: or, Th.- Lusi Cruise (-1 the Black Bear.

ll" “'. J. llAMlLTllN.

68 The Red Brotherhood : or. The Twelve Avongoro.
86 Sln la “and: or, A Life {v.r a Lite.
II Tolls “'eotorn, the Term: Ranger.
.8? Ben Bird. the Cow King; M. Big Pete‘s Scoop.

BY EIHVARD S. ELLIS.

8 ml: Blddon, Trap wr.

8 Seth Jone-o; or, 'i' r Capii '6! of im- Frnntier.

0 Not Todd : or, The Fat. 0! the Sioux Captive.

to ’rne Frontier Angel.

8 The Boy linen: or, The Enrll|n¢vd island.

9 The Hunted Hunter; or, The Strange Housman.
.54 The Half-Blood; or, The Panther oi the Plains.
8'11 '1 he llugo llnnter; or, Tho Steam Prairie Mon.

BY J. “'. 0830K.

M9 The Rivol Giants ofNowhor’.

498 Cot-tun Burr. tho Man from Hord Lock.

5‘? 0” Buck: e. the Sierra Shadow.

564 Powder P ll, the Boy Miner.

609 Boll Burr“. the Veteran Detective.

690 Litt e Lightning‘s League; or, The Mystery OHM Inland.

no
.9

4

BY ROGER STARBUCK.

.5 The Boy Coptoln: or, The Pirnto’o Daughter.
“4 The Block Schooner: or, Jib Junk. the Old Tor.
.50 The Golden llo n: or. Loot Among tho Floss.
848 Mlleolo or, 0 d Shinflint, tho Death-Shadow.
8“ Big llorn I o. the Hill Trump; or, Tho Odd
.01 The Phantom LIght-honoe. ~.
870 Brookor Ben. the Roof-Runner. 1

BY GEDBGE WALDO 380W“ 7,

 

8. “and Rock the Man from Texas.

90 ' ‘he read Rider; or, The Tenn Duelist.

99 'i‘ho Tiger of Tooo; or, Dandy Rock’s Angel. It
115 IFhe Hod Minor: or, Dandy Rock's Doom. ;_
131 "ha Golden flood: or. DmdyiRocii to the Roocoo. f
164 'Jondy Rock’s Pl 3 or. noted to Death. J
I'll llondy Rock’s Rivo : or. Tho Haunted Mold oi'l'ooo. 

BY CAPTAIN FRED. WIIITTAKEIL

15 The Sen-Cot: or. Tho Witch of Dorian.

I. The Dumb Page gar, Tho Don’n Daughter.

on Dlok Dorllng. t o ony Express Rider.
150 Lance and Loon: or. The Children of the Chase.
I“ The Sword Ills-tern; or. Tho Land of tho lleghontludoon. v".
1‘. The Loot Coptolng or, Sklppor Jaher Coilin’n rnloo to tho .1:

0 n Polar Son.

m The Boy Bedouin” or. The Brothers of tho Plumod lanes.

.14 We “g, tho Robber oi the Rhino.  .-:
“9 III. o‘er, the Animal King; or, The Round tho World
Wondonr.
I“ The r Toner: or, Tho League of the Jungle.
“1 Block Ick. tho Damon Rider.
805 Confornlo Joo’o Wor Troll.

BY CAP'I. J. F. C. ADAMS.

84 Dragon Sol; or, Nick “'hiileo’l Boy Spy.
M Gloria-By the Great Shot of the Wat.
54 Veil “on tho 83' Trapper.
50 Nick WIII el'l ct; or. in The Valley of Death.
00 The White Indian; or, The Scout of the Yollowm
70 Old Zl ’I Cabin: or, The Groonhorn in tho woodg,
81 Light- " Jo, the Tower oi the Prairie.
85 Buck lluekro-i or, Boos, the Female 1‘ nor,
“7 Did Grinnly and "lo Pet-z or. The Wll Hum ,
“I hbhoule Lug; or. Oorooln, tho Firebrond.
.5? T e Loot llantero; or. The Underrmund Comp.
.88 The Deolp King: «r. The Human Thunderbolt.

llBCELLAN EOUE A UTHDRS.

4 The Wlld-Iloroe llnntcro. By Capt. Mayne lid on.
Froderlck Whittaker.
Adventure- of Boron Mnnchonocn.

II Gnl‘iver’o Trovolo. 8v Donn >wlft.

14 Alnd dint or. The Wonderinl Lamp.

IO Robinson Crusoe. (91 illustrations.)

18 Sln‘bnd the Soilor. "in Seven Voyageo.

8! The Son Serpent: or. Tho Boy Robinson Crnooo. By I.

lawio.
38 The Oeeon Bloodhound; or. The Red Pilot. of tho
Corrihveo. By S. W. Pierce.
8. {ha Bo! Clown: or, Tho Qoeon of tho Anna. 3, M
an.
.8 Ned Wylde. the Boy Scout. 3 Tons Jack.
‘1 The Boy Rifles; or. The Un orground Comp. I, m

.. roan.
95 The Rlvol Ravel-o; or, Tho Froobootors oi' the I”.
By Inn-Col. Honoltlno.
’8 Robin Ilood. the Ontiowod lorl; or,1'ho Merry Ion o! a... 
wood. D Prof. Gildornloovo.
10‘ Old Rn , the Hunter; or, Tho Crow Captive. D, m
Hamilton Holmes. r.
11. The Mod Ilnnter: or. The Cove ofDooth. By In]...
1“ Tiny. the Texans or, The Young crimping. p, a...

non. ,.
1.8 The You: Privateer! 0?. Th0 Pirate’s Stronghold. hr]
H" c's' u" n Ad torso! l‘rlodlo- :

M 0 von 0 I .
1‘8 Eh:rp ogbx I: lay 3’!

l
f rink, lion-ell. . or, The Green Rongoroffio'ole-
‘°"‘m' 3:333." t. the s'n r n Boy o I. and.
e - o o
.m.I ‘Efill ulna!” "Ciao; or,Dovy Crockott'o M  ;
B . . arm. a
so Butt. “MOIo-Iyod rim can. nae-a. a.
By Captain Condo: -
It? Poooook Polo. tho “"1! M In: Loodvillo. Dy Ida:
 Alo’l'ighiinulo 
v or
s um’nu. In...” ’ y ' 'u
no a'a an». in Rim Rom; on“. Ina-'- I,»
- «no. By Nod Boo tllno. 
O“ Ilol more Bo- tbo Iootblock Detective. Dy A. P.
"4 I oDnot Ton: or, Ben's Double Hotel. Dy Ono ,
(I... ,
.7. 0.1mm. 300’. m Troll. B! CO“ I
s "%.:.“.'.’...n a cuscnmm an s M “
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Cos-onth Moro-d Illo Three lam fi' '
nos wins-2|. on Da Ara-r r. run.
one The Cow»; he. 2, Wham- rm
“D He! the A lots. Dy David Droid. ‘
.85 Ill Wotan-o, tho Dov Ferret. 3v Elston.
A New Iouo Every Tuesday.
'l‘hoIolf-DI-oIJhroryl-lor “i. by .1: Matt ‘7
fipcoopywroontbymofloo roooiptotsixooniooocl.

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no The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Wain.
141 Equinox Tom. the Bully of Bed Rock; or, Dan
Brown’s Masterstroke. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

143 Captain Crimson, the Man of the Iron Face; or
The Nemesis oi.’ the Plains. By Maj. Dangerfield

143 The Czar‘s Spy; or, The Nihilist League. By
Col. T. H. Monstery.

144 The Hunchback lot NotreIDame. By Victor
Hugo.

145 Pistol Pards; or, Soft Hand. the Silent Sport
from Cinnabar. By Wm. R. Eyster.

146 The Doctor Detective; or, The Mystery of the
Golden Coffin. By George Lemuel.

147 Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas; or, The
Chid of theflegiment. By Colonel Prentiss
Ingraham.

148 One-Armed Alf, the Giant Hunter 01' the Great
Lakes By 011 Coomes.

149 The Border Rifles. By Gustave Aimard.

150 all Ruble Bravo, King of the Swordsmen; or.
The Terrible Brothers of Tabasco. By Col.
Thomas Boyer Monstery.

151 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard.

152 Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief' or,
'lghu Gypsy Queen's Legacy. By Marmaduke
.oy.

- 15-3“ The White Scalper. By Gustave Aimard.

154 Joaquin, the Saddle King. By Joe. E. Badger.

155 The Corsair Queen; or. The Gypsies of the Sea.
By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

156 Velvet Face the Border Bravo; or Muriel, the
. Danite's Bri e. By Maj. Dangerfield Burr.

' - 1W Mourad, the Mameluke; or. The Three Sword-

masters. By Col. Thomas H. Monstery.

158 The Doomed Dosen' or, Dolores, the Danite's
Daughter. By Dr. F’rank Powell.

159 Red Rudiger. the Archer or The Lady Bertha’s
Treachery. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

“.9 Soft Hand Sharp; or, The Man With the Sand.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

‘ The Wolves of New York; or. Joe Phenlx‘s
Great Man'Hunt. By A. W. Aiken.

162 The Mad Mariner; or, Dishonored and Disowned.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

 

' ’168 Ben Brion, the Trapper Ca tain; or, Redpath,

the Avenger. By Dr. J. H. binson

1“ The Kin ’s Fool ° or The Kin hts of the Clasped
Hands n'ird Red hrnineh. By B. D. Clark.

165 Joaquin, the Terrible. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

06 Owlet. the Robber Prince; or The Unknown
' Highwaymen By Septimus R. Urban.

10? The Man of Steel; or, The Masked Knight of the
White Plume. By A. P. Morris.

1168 Wild Bill, the Pistol Dead Shot' or, Dagger Don's
" Double. By Colonel Prentiss m.

 ‘1“ Corporal Cannon. the Man of Forty Duels. By

Colonel Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

170 Sweet William, the Trap r Detective; or The
Chief of the crimson lan. By Joseph r.
Badger, Jr.

‘17! Tiger Dick, the Man of the Iron Heart; or, The
Dumb Bandit. By Philip S. Warns.

The Black Pirate' or. The Mystery of the Golden
 letters. By 00161101 P. Ingraham.

'm California John, the Pacific Thoroughbred. By
' Albert W. Aiken.

{m The Phantom Knights. By Capt. r. Whittaker.

I Wildmil‘sTrnlanerd; «.mmm
By Major Dangerleld Burr.

I m We: the Robber Queen. By Captain

‘1" Don Diablo, the Planter-Corsair; or, The Rivals

of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

173 Dark Dashwood. the Des rate' or The Child of
. theSun. By MajorSampg. Hall. '

the Convict; or, Was He Guilty? By
“ Prof. S wart Gildersleeve, LL.D.

eém‘Old '49; or, The Amason of Arizona. By Joe. E.
- Badger, r. '

 The Scarlet Schooner or, The Nemesis of the
Sea. ByCol. Prentiss'lngraham.

5 Hands U ; or, The Knightsot the Canyon. B
 Wm. B. yster. ’

; TheOcean Vam e; or. The Heiress of Castle
: Curse. By Col. entiss Ingraham.

iisrhemns lder; or TheBeautitulS hinx. n
 Anthony .norrn.' p y

m Death’s Head Cuirassiers or, Brav of All
- ves.‘ ByCapt. FredWhitt‘aker. 0

‘The‘Phantom -or.TheHenaotth

,5 Chapel-rah. By orilangei-ileld rr. 0

Wild Bill’sGold Traii' or,TheDeepersdoDoeen.
.ByCol. Prentisslngra'hani.

'l'heThseeGnal-Ismen. ByAlenandseDnnias.

 

' needles Dime Library.

191 The Terrible Tonkawa ; or, Old Rocky and His
Pards. By Buckskin m.

192 The Lightning Sport' or, The Bad Man at Slaugh-
ter Bar. By W. R. yster.

193 The Man in Red; or, The Ghost oi.’ the Old Guard.
By Capt. F. Whittaker.

194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent; or,
 Three Men of Mount Tabor. By Capt. Mark
‘ ton.

195 The Lone Star Gambler; or, The Maid of the
Magnolias. By Buckskin Sam.

196 La Marmoset the Detective Queen; or, The Lost
Heir oi' Morel. By Albert W. Aiken.

197 Revolver Rob, the Red-Handed; or, The Belle of
Nugget Camp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

198 The Skeleton Schooner' or, The Skimmer of the
Sea By Col. Prentiss fugraham.

.‘3’ Diamond Dick, the Dandy from Denver. By
Buckskin Sam.

200 The Rifle Rangers' or, Adventures in Southern
Mexico. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

201 The Pirate of the Placers; or. Joaquln‘s Death
Hunt. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

202 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide; or, The Masked
Robbers of Black Bend. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

203 The Double Detective; or, The Midnight Mys-
tery. By Albert W. Aiken.

204 Bi -Foot Wallace, the Kin of the Lariat; or,
W d Wolf, the Waco. By uckskin Sam.

205 The Gambler Pirate; or, Bessie, the Lady of the
Lagoon. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

206 One Eye, the Cannoneer; or, Marshal Ney‘s Last
Legacy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

207 Old Hard Head; or Whirlwind and His Milk-
Whlte Mare. By Philip S. Warne.

2% The White Chef. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

209 Buck Farley. the Bonanza Prince; or. The Ro-
mance of Death Gulch. By Edward Willett.

210 Buccaneer Bess, the Lioness of the Sea; or, The
Red Sea Trail. By 001. P. Ingraham.

211 Colonel Plun er: or The Unknown Sport. By
Capt. Frede ck Whittaker.

212 The Brazos Tigers' or. The MlnuteMen of
Fort Belknap. By uckskin Sam.

218 The War Trail; or, The Hunt of the Wild Horse.
By Capt. Mayne Reid.

214 The Two Cool Sports; or, Gertie of the Gulch.
By Wm. R. Eyster.

215 Parson Jim King of the Cowbo s; or, e
Gentle She herd’s Big “Clean-Out.’ By Capt.
Frederick hittaker.

216 The Corsair Planter; or, Driven to Doom. By
Col. Prentim Ingraham.

217 The nt of El Paso; or Frontier Frank, the
Scout 0 the Rio Grande. y Buckskin Sam.

218 The Wild Huntress; or, The Big Squatter's Ven-
geance. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

219 The Sco ion Brothers; or, Mad Tom’s Mission.
By Capta n Mark Wilton.

IS) The S ter Yacht; or, A Brother's Crime. By
Col. . ingraham.

221 D erate Duke. the Guadalou “ Gsloot."
Buezgskin Sam. pa 3’

an Bill. the Blizzard' or, Red Jacket’s Double
Crime. By Edward Willett.

me Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain' or,
thltlagouglis of Silver Spur. By Captain Mark
11.

224 Black Beard the Buccaneer; or, The Curse of
{he Coast. By Col. P. lngraham.

25 Rocky Mountain Al- or Nug et Ne the Wait
0! the Range. By c skingam. 11’

see The Mad Hussars; or. The 0's and the Mac’s.
By Capt. F. Whittaker.

m Buckshot Ben. the Man-Hunter of Idaho' or,
The Cactus Creek Tragedy. By Capt. Mark
Wilton.

228 The Maroon. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9129 Captain Cutsleeve; or. Touch-Me-Not, the Little
Sport. By Wm. R. Eyster.

2w The Flying Dutchman of 1880; or, Who was
Vanderdec en. By Capt. Whittaker.

231 The Kid Glove Miner; or. The Magic Doctor of
Golden Gulch. By Col. P. Ingraham.

282 Orson On, the Man of Iron; or, The River Mys-
tery. By Isaac Hawks.

m The Old Boy of Tombstone' or, W ering a
Life on a Card. By J. E. Badger, Jr. .3

284 The Huntere' Feast. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

’85 Red htninlg, the Man of Chance; or Flush
Times I: Go den Gulch. By Colonel Prentiss
Ingraham.

MCham onSam°or TheMonarchsofthe .
By COBi T. m M’onstery. _ Show

mu. -Halred Max' or TheBlackLeagu of
Corset. By Capt. h. Wilton. ° a”

n8 Hank Hound the Crescent Cl Detecti '
The Owls of New Orialnl. By; P. Moll-ho"

ID TheTerribleTl-io; mammal of the Anny.
13me a

I

 

240 A 0031 Head; or, Orson Oz: in Peril. By lease

Haw s.

241 Spitfire Saul, King of the Rustlers: or, can
Dixie‘s Grand “ ound-Up.” By Josep E.
Badger, Jr.

242 The Fog Devil' or, The Skipper of the Flash.
By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

243 The Pilgrim Sharp; or, The Soldier’s Sweetheart
By Buflalo Bill.

244 Merciless Mart the Man-Tiger of Missouri; or
The Wait of the Flood. By, “Buckskin Sam."
Maj. Sam S. Hall.

245 Barranca Bill, the Revolver Champion; or, The
Witch of the Weeping Willows. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

246 ueen Helen, the Amazon of the Overland; or,
he Ghouls of the Gold Mines. By Col. Prentiss
lngraham.

247 Alligator lke; or The Secret of the Everglade.
By Capt. Fred Whittaker.

248 Montana Nat the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
B" Edward Willett.

M9 Elephant Tom, of Durango; Or, for." Gold Dust
or Your Life. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

50 The Rough Riders; or. Sharp-Eye, the Seminole
Scourge. By Buckskin Sam.

251 Tiger Dick vs. Iron Di‘agpard; or, Every Man Has
His Match. By P. S. arne.

252 The Wall Street Blood; or. Tick, Tick, the Tele-
graph Girl. By Albert W. Aiken.

253 A Yankee Cossack; or The Queen of the Nihil-
ists. By Capt. Frederick Whittaker.

254 Giant Jake, the Patrol of the Mountain. By
Newton M. Curtis.

255 The Pirate Priest; or. The Planter Gambler’s
Daughter. By Col. P. Ingraham.

256 Double Dan. the Bastard; or, The Pirates of m
Pecos. By Buckskin Sam.

257 Death-Trap Digginge; or. A Hard Man from
‘Way Back. By Joseph‘E. Badger, Jr.
258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Fund or The Pris~

men; of the Death Vault. By Captain Mark
Wilton.

259 Cutlass and Cross; or, The Ghouls of the Sea
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

260 The Masked Mystery; or, The Black Crescent.
By A. P. Morris.

261 Black Sam. the Prairie Thunderbolt; or, The
Bandit-Hunters. By Col. Jo Yards.

962 Fighting Tom the Terror of the Toughs. By
Col. Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

268 Iron~Armed Abe, the Hunchback Destro er; or.
The Black Riders‘ Terror. Capt. Mark iiton.

204 The Crooked Three; or The Black Hearts of
the Guadalupe. By Buckskin Sam.

235 Old Double-Sword; or. Pilots and Pirates. By
Captain Frederick Whittaker.

266 Leopard Luke, the Kill of Horse-Thiever or
agfioswnmp Squatter'sgDoom. By Capt. Mark
11.

237 The White Squaw. By Cap. Mayne Reid.

268 M cMike, the Man of Frills; or, Bad Ben‘s
Brigade. By William R. Eyster.

239 The Be on Bravo; or The Terrible Trail.
Buckskln Sam. ’ . B,

270 Andros, the Free Rover; or, The" Pirate‘s
Daughter. By Ned Buntline.

271 Stoneilst of Bi Nu et Bend; or Old Kev
chum's Tug of ar. y Capt. Mark 'Wilton.

272 Seth Slocum, Railroad Surveyor' or The Secret
of Sitting Bull. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

278 Mountain Mose the Gorge Outlaw; or, Light
Hangaleon'. rive Fights for Life. By Buck-
S n In.

274 Flush Fred the Mlesissi pi S rt° or To in
Times in Teimessee. By Edwalgiowlllett. u‘

275 The Smu ler Cutter; or, The Cavern in the
0111!. By .D. Conroy.

276 Texas Chick the Southwest Detective; or,
Tiger Lily. The Vulture Queen. By Captain
Mark Wilton.

277 The Sauc Jane Privateer: or, The Hunting of
Old Iron des. By Capt. Fred Whittaker.

278 Hercules Golds ur. the Man of the Velvet Hand:
‘ or, The Pnker een‘s Drop Game. By Captain
Howard Holmes.

1779 The Gold Dr on; or. The California Blood-
hound. ByW lam H. Manning.

mo Black-Hose Ben; or. Tiger Dick’s Lone Hand.
By Philip S. Warns.

as: The Sea Owl; or, The Lady Captain of the Gull
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

282 The Merciless Marauders: or. Chhparral Carl‘s
Revenge. By Buckskin Sam.

83 Sleek Sam. the Devil of the Mines' or, The Sons
of the Fiery Cross. By Joe. E. Badger, 'r.

84 The Three tee; or, Old Ironsidee' Revenge.
‘ By Capt. mum".

fl Lightning Bolt, the Can on Terror; or The
Mountain Cat's Grudge. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

unstolJohnn :or. OneManinaThonsand.
JosephEBaydger,Jr. ”

 

 

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eaee lime 'irary“  *’ .

 

 

a Dan Dave,aud His Horse White Stock-inf
or. Digests or Death. By Buckskin Sam. ’

8 Electro Pete. the Man of Fire; or. TheWhart
Rats of Locust Point. By A. P. Morris.

W Flush Fred‘s Bull Band: or, Life and Strifein
Louisiana. By Edward Willett.

290 The Lost Corvette; or, Blakeley‘s Last Cruise.
By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

291 Horseshoe Hank, the Man of Big Luck' or. The
Gold Brick of Idaho. By Capt. Mark Wl ton.

292 Moke Homer the Boss Roustabout; or. The
Fresh-Water Sharks or the Overflow. By an
Badger, Jr.

293 Stampede Steve; or, The Doom of the Double
Face. By Buckskin Sam.

I94 Broadcloth Burt the Denver Dandy' or, The
Thirty Pards of Deadwood. By Capt. Holmes.

M Old Cross-Eye, the Maverick-Hunter- or The
Night Riders of Satanta County. By'Capt. F.
Whittaker.

fl Duncan. the Sea-Diver; or. The Coast Vultures.
By George St. George.

D? Colorado Rube, the Strong Arm of Hotspur
City- or, The Giant Brothers of Buzzard Roost.
By William H. Manning.
[pg r Lem' or Life and Peril in the Pine
.3 Woo‘des. By Bdwhrd Willett.

. Three of a Kind. Tiger Dick, iron Des ard and
the Sportive SpOrt. By P. S. Warne. p .

IDAS rt in S ectacles- or. The Bad Time a
Bunpgo. By iliiam R‘Eyster.

an Bowlder Bill; or. The Man from Taos. By
Buckskin Sam.

II taro Saul, the Handsome Hercules- or. The
Grip of Steel. By Joseph F. Badger. r.

I! Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw or The
Satanstown Election. By Capt. Whit er.

as Texas Jack, the Prairie Rattler- or, The Queen
of the Wild Riders. By Buualo Bill.

ll Silver-Plated Sol the Montana Rover; or, Giant
graves Fight with Himself. By Capt. Mark
ion.

an The Roughs of Richmond' or The Mystery of
the Golden Beetle. By a 15. Morris.

In The Phantom Pirate; or The Water Wolvelol
the Bahamas. By Col. 1". Ingraham.

m Hemlock Hank. Tea 11/ and True‘ or The
Shadow of Mount Katgadin. By E. Willett.

In Be bold. the Rattlln Ranger or, Old Roeb‘l
Toggh Campaign. B§ Bucksldli Sam.

810 The Marshal of Satanstown: or, The League of
the Cattle-Lifters. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

811 Hes Hand the Relentlees' or, The Marked
Menvoyf Paradise Gulch. By Capt. M. Wilton.

818 Kinkfoot Karl, the Mountain Sco
lug out the Score. By Morris Red

as Mark Magic, Detective. By A. P. Morris.

814 Lafitte; or. The Pirate of the Gulf. By Prat. J.
Ingraham.

Flush Fred's Double- or. The Squatters' league

ot'Six. By Edward lilett.

no Lafitte a Lieutenant- or Theodo theChlld at
theSea. ByPro . J.‘H.‘Ingnhanr:'

m Frank tightfoot. the Miller Detective. By J. I.
Badger. r.

: 01'.er

mnelndlan Buccaneer or Red BoversmBlue
Waters. ByCol.Prenisslngx-sham.

mwndam. the Whirlwind“ theWest. 
taloBlll.

'rh Geuteel werm.thefllghtflawksot
‘0 Ne: York. B311 w.’ m

California Claude. the lone Bsndlt. m
.1 Howard Holines. 8’
u The Crimson Coyotes; or. Rita. the Nemesis.
By Buckskin
H h' or The Banded Brothenatbe
‘ Emmi-if By Captain Mark Wilton.

F ked Li htnin ,tbe Solitary' or, m
.‘ 3:31. aoMan. B§ Jos. i Badger. Jr. '

'5 The Gentleman Pirate' or. The Bermflof M

Bay. By 001. P. Iugr In.

no The Whitest Man in the Mines. h Captain F.
Whittaker. .

an Terra in Dick, ch. Wild Woods Detective; in
Trailigg a Traitor. By Edward Willett. '

mmn Kntgor. ditsoftheBam.
Buciski; Sam. m B“ n,

as) The Lemme 0i! Three. or, Bnflalo Elli m
By 001. Prentiss 

m ,
gmnneomuwm Bram

31 Ch 11 .
We... Beam Beam; :3»

' -Beel J I‘ The m ‘m
Tower. 33° 031.030“. I,“

. M M the .8- .“ m
Wm. fainter.  ”

flawmui Cami-dues!"

.auo Jumping Jerry the Gamecock

 

as Flash Dan. the Nabob- or. The Blades ct Bowie
Bar. By Captain H. Holmes.

836 The Magic Shi ; or, The Freebooters of Sandy
Hook. By 001. . lngralianl.

837 Old Gabe, the Mountain Tramp; or. The'rragedy
of the Deserted Camp. By Ed. Willett.

838 Jack Sand, the Bow of the Town: or, The Fool
of Fiddler‘s Folly. By Philip S. Warne.

889 Spread Eagle Sam, the Hercules Hide-Hume.
By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

840 Cool Conrad, the Dakota Detective; c-v. non
Lair to lair. By Captain H. Holnwa

841 The Sea Desperado. By Colonel P. Ingraham.
mslanco Bill, the Mustang Monarch. By Buck-
skin Sam.

84!! The Head Hunter; or, Mark Magic in the Mina.
By A. P. M '

oms.
844 Double Shot Dave of the Left Band; or. A Cold
Wave at Black Dam. By Wm. B. Eyster.

845 Masked Mark, the Mounted Detective. By Joe.
E. Badger, Jr.

840 Ocean Guerrillas' or, The Planter Midshipman.
By Col. Prentiss fngraham.

847 Denver Duke the Man With Sand; or. Centi-
edle Sam's Bone Hand. By Captain Howard
omen.

848 Dan Dillon, Kin oi' Crosscut' or, A Woman's
Wild Work. By ward Willelt.

849 Lion-Hearted Dick. the Gentleman Road-Agent.
By Albert W. Aiken.

850 Flash Falcon, the Society Detective. By Weldon
J. Cobb.

351 Nor'west Nick. the Border Detective' or, Dan
Brown’s Fight for Life. By Jos. n Badger, Jr.

852 The Desperate Dozen; or, The Fair Fiend of the
Coeur d‘Alene. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

8153 Barb Brennan, the Train Wrecker- or, The Eng
0: Straight Flush. By John Cuthbert.

as: aed'niehard- or, The Brand of the Crimson
Cross. By Albert w. Aiken.

use The Mad Athlete: or,The Wars P!!! In the Box.
By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

856 Three Handsome S rts; or. The Double Com-
bination. By Wm. Eyster.

M Jack Simona, Detective; or, The Wolvu d
Washington. By A. P. Morris.

as The Prince of Pan Cut: or, The Beautiful It
"Jo‘s Mission. By Buckskin Sam.

I! Yellow Jack. the Mestizo: or, Tiger Dick h the
e. By Philip S. Warns.

t
I

from Sundown
or. A Craw Full of Sand. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

an Tombstone Dick. the Train Pilot; or. The Tr!-
tor’s Trail. By Ned Buntllne.

an Bufl'alo Bill‘s Gri : or. Oath-Bound to m.
By 001. Prentiss lggraham.

as Crownin ield. the Detective’ or Pita:- -
Death. yAlbert w. Aiken. ' '

mlThe Sea tive; or. The sendth
By Col. Preu is: Ingraham. Q“

as Keen Kenn the Shasta Shad - or The
Branded 1783;“: By Capt. Howard gains-t.

MThe Telemph Detective' or The Dynamit-
League. By GoOrge Henry Mo'rse.

I! ARoyal Flush; or. Dan Brown‘s Big Game of
Freeze-Out. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

ll'l‘heoan eating: or ABA-iceonmsfiead.
Bowel-chilled ’ 8’

II The Coast Corsair: or. Madca' Madge. the Siren
of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss

m The Bus Detective- or Pursued to the End.
By A, wmen ' '

on Gold Buttons- or The Bards. B
Buckan Sam'. ' Up'mgo ’

mes taiqu .theManwlthanecord.
JogmBadgsog'Jr. By

an The Sailor of Fortune: or. The Buccaneer-sot
Barnegat Bay. By Col. Prentiss Inst-sham.

In r Blister. the or Two Cltlu- or The
firings S ttersigttxl‘l‘emack Hills. By Capt.
owa

as Royal George. the Three in One; or, The M
Book on Blazers. By Wm. 3. Enter.

an smack Best-(ls: or.'rhe High Horse on the
oGrsnde. By Albert W. Aiken.

l7 Afloat and Ashore: . The Corsair 00W-
By 001. Prentiss luggham.

II John Arman-on .Mechanlc;or.homthem
to the Top ot‘iha Ladder. Bio-mam

9

 

4:: '
MD Howling Jonathan; or, The Terror from Head
waters. By J as. E. Badger. Jr.

38) The Golden Serpent; or, Tiger Dick's Piedr;
By P. S. Warne.

881 The Gypsy Gentleman; or. Nick Fox, the Demon
DeteCtive. By Albert W. Aiken.

88 The Bonanza Band; or, Dread Don, of the 010'
Clan. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

& Silver Sam, the Detective; or The Rustlers of
gutsteACity. By Major Daniel Boone Dumont

.34 {gun Dick. Detective; or. Tracked from the

ckies to New York. By Albert W. Al 91‘.

 Wild Dick Turpin the Lion of ~..eadv1ne;or,
The Lone Band. By Wm d flannzng.

BS Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective' or. The
gothkam Flats Mystery. By Jackson  (Old
aw .2

887 Min: Pure. the Ishmael of the Hills; «.156
GOlC Phantom. By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

8Q The Giant Buccaneer- or, The Wreckerm
or Death Island. By C’oioml P. Ingraham.

fl Colonel Doubleed . the Cattle Baron‘s Pard-
or. The Marshal o Sandstone. By Maia Band
Boone Dumont. U. S. A.

no The Giant Cupid' or. Cibuta Johni em
Jubilee. By J. C. drlck.

891 Kate Scott. the Deco Detective; or. Joe Pb.
nix‘s Still Hunt. By W. Aiken.

89! The Lost Bonanza: or, The Boot at m
Hound. By Captain Howard Holmes.

an The Convict Captain; or. Tb Mules of the
Buccaneers. By Coloilel Pren ,angraham.

894 White Beaver. the Exile of the Platte- or, a
- Wronged Man's Red Trail. By Busaio Bin.

895 Deadly Aim. the Duke of War or. a I"! ht
for Five Millions. By Joe. E. Badgerz. Jr. 8

896 The Piper Detective; or. The Gilt Edge Gang.
By Wm. R Eyster.

M The Wizard Brothers; or, White Beaver’sBed
Trail. By Buflalo Bill.

as Sleepless Eye. the Pacific Detective: or,Bna- .
D

hing Down a Double. By Geo. 0. Je k8.

M The New Monte Cristo; or. The WanderingJow
ot the Sea. By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

ll) Captain Ccldgrlp, the S rt Detective; or, The
New York Spotter in lorado. By Captain
Howard Holmes.

n The Ono-Arm Pard: or Red Retribution infill»
derland. By Busaio Bill. ~

II Snapshot Sam. the Pistol Sharp; or. The Rachel
at Angels’ Flat. By Wm. B. Eyster.

CI The Nameless Sport; or, The Kilkenny Calla!
Way Up. By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

GI Silver-Rifle Sid; or, A Daisy Blufl'. By Philip.»

Warne. \

an Old Bald . the Brigadier or Buck Basin: or ~
ligated own by a Woman. By William E

as (Md Po Hicks. Showman; or “on Chm
Luck. ‘By Capt. F. Whittaker.’

“Ca Cid ' Name» or Indnnmckfl
DeghmnBy  l(award Molina.

ll Doc Grl . the S rtinz Detective; or. theY.
detta of oath. y Albert W. Aiken.

409 Rob Roy Ranch- or, The Impact the Pan Bal-
die. By Joseph B. Badger. Jr.

410 Sarah Brown. Detective' or The M story of the
Pavilion. By K. F. Hill.’ ’ y

411 The White Crook; or Old Hark‘l PM D
Major Daniel Boone Damont.

412 Larry Locke, the Man of 1mm or. Am“ ‘

Fortune. By Capt. Fred.

418 Captain Coldzrlp in New York' or Them.“ “
League. ByCa. .Hoimes.’ '

ptH

414 Red'Reuard, the lnd.an Detective: or, The G“

Buzzards of Colorad By Builalo Bill
as Hot Heart. the Detective
Jagua ’3 Mission. By Wm.

r, r.

411 Tucson Tom. the Bowie Brave; a. the It.
Trailers. By George St. George.

as Slb theSea Siren: or.The Mum
By’CLol. P. Ingraham. .

mThe Bat of the Bee 'Ol', Joe may. 
ofDetecflvel. ByAlflW.” ‘

an Olde : ,Alsadlela. 
MéDanldBoomontfl .

‘“ emmmrmwmw mm“.  

 

mama”? 3"“ _ i

no Monte Jim. the Black Sheep of Bissau. a"
Joe. E.

 

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 A. , L’sng M 13*  _  

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 

 

422 BlneGrass Burt, the Gold Star Detective' or,
ToDnty Bound, to Vengeance Sworn. By J. C.
Cowdrick.

423 The. Lone Hand; or, The Recreants of the Red
River. By Album W. Aiken.

424 Hawk Heron’s Deputy: or, Nixcy‘s Nip.
Jackson Knox. (Old Hawk.)

425 The Sea Sword; or. The Devan Rivals.
P. Ingraham.

426 The Ghost Detective: or. The Sp
ServiCe. By Joseph E. Badger. r.

427 The Rivals of Montana Mills; or, Redgrave, the
Renegade. By Wm. H. Manning.

428 {he iFs‘lying (Him; or, The Island Lure. By Leon

e

By
By Col.
of the Secret

w .
429 Hair Trig er Tom of Red Bend; or, All Wool .

and a Ya Wide. By William R. Eyster.

430 The Fatal Frigate: or. Rivals in Love and War.
By Colonel Prentiss In raham.

431 California Kit, the A wa s on Hand; or, The
Mountain Rivals. By Phi ip S. Warne.

432 The Giant Horseman; or, Tracking the Red
Cross Ga . By George C. Jenks.

433 laughing
P . I? Jose h E. Badger. Jr.

434 Lucifer ynx,t e Wondei Detective' or A Cool
Hand Among Hot Heads. By Capt. .

485 The One-Aimed Buccaneer; or. he Havenless
Cruiser. B COL Prentiss Ingraham.

436 Kentucky can, the Sport From Yellow fine‘ or,
Blue-Eyed Belle of Bended Bow. By J. C. Low-

drick.

487 Deep Duke. the Silent Sharp; or. The Man of
Two Lives. By Wm. H. Manning0

438 Oklahoma Nick; or, Boomer lt‘s Surprise
Party. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

439 Salamander Sam; or, The Swamp Island Rene-

ades. By Major D. B. Dumont.
440 he High Horse of the Pacific. By Albert W.

Aiken.

441 The California Sharp; or. The Trail of the Gold-
en Grandee. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

442 Wild West Wal the Mountain Veteran; or. The
Gunmakers of orld‘s End. By W. H. Manning.

443 A Cool Hand: or, Pistol Johnn_ ‘5 Picnic at Top
Notch. By Joseph E. Bad er. r.

444 The Magic Detective; or, '1‘ 6 Hidden Hand. By
Jackson Knox.

. 445 Journeyman John. the Cham ion; or. The Win-
ii?

ning Hand. By Capt. Fred. hittaker.

446 Ocean 0 . the Outcast Corsair; or. The Good
Ship of l-Omen. By Col. P. Ingraham.

447 Volcano, the 'Frisco Spy' or. The Secret of the
Secret Seven. By 03L Howard Holmes.

448 Hark Kenton. the T tor; or, The Hunted Life.
B MaJOr D. Burr.

449 B 111! Burke, King of the Rockies; or, The Black
Stake Rivals. By Wm. H. Manning.

450 The Rustler Detective; or. The Bounding Buck
from Buflalo Wallow. By J. E. Badger. r.

451 Grlplock. the Rocket Detective; or, The Han-
shaw Mysteri. By Jackson Knox.

452 R0 . the Tulip from Texas; or. The
Spot Saint‘s Mission. By J. C. Cowdrick.

458 Captain Coldgrip‘s Long Trail: or. The Rivals 0!
Silver Deck. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

454 The Ni ht Raider: or. The Mysterious Marauder.
B Mair» D. B. Dumont.

455 ank eilowbird. ihe Tall Hustler of the Hills;
or The Conspirators of Medicine Springs. By

Wm. H. Manning.

456 The Demon Steer; or. The Outlaws on the Abi-
lene Cattle Trail. By Leon Lewis.

457 The Sea Insurgent: or. The Conspirator‘s Son.
By Col. Prentiss In raham. -

458 Dutch Dan the Pi im from itzenbe ; or.
The Rocky Racket at Bough Rob 11. By oseph
E. Badger, Jr.

450 Major nnshine. the Man of Three Lives; or. The
Waiting Waits at Git Thar. By Wm. R. Eyster.

460 Captain Coldgrip. the City Delective; or. The
Coolest Woman in New York. By Capt. Howard

Holmes.

461 The Fresh on the Rio Grande: or, The Red Riders
of Ra on. B Albert W. Aiken.

462 The rcus tective; or, Griplock in a New
Role. By Jackson Knox.

463 Gold Gauntlet the Gulch Gladiator; or. Yank
Yellowhird's ot Campaign. By Wm. H. Man-

Bing.
464 Sand craw, the Man of Grit' or. The River
820 ‘s Revenge. By Major D. . Dumont.
465 T 9 Actor Detective. B Albert W. Aiken.
466 Old Rough and Read , t 0 Sage of Sundown; or.
onor. ByJ. E. ger,Jr.

Not for lie but for
467 Mainwaring the Salamander; or, The Detectives‘
Ordeal By Jackson Knox.

as Coldgri in Deadwood; or. The Great Detective's
Double I. B Captain H. Holmes.

469 The Lieutenant toctive; or, The Fugitive Sail-
or. B Col. P. I ham.

470 The uke of Da 0 ; or, Yank Yellowbird’s
Fiery Gantlet. B Wm. H. Mannin .

471 The Heart of 0a Detective; or. gigng‘s Full
Hand. 83 E. A. St. Mox.

472 Six-Foot l; or. The Man to “ Tie To." By P. 8.

me.
478 Gilbert of Gotham. the Steel Arm Detective; or.
Fightin the Powers of Air. By J. C. Cowdrick.
Dad Dead-Eye. the Despot of Dew-Drop' or,
The msel from Deseret. B Joe. E. Badger.
475 Chin Chin. the Chinese Detect v0- or, The Dark
Work of the Black Hand. B A. ’w. Aiken.
476 Bob Brent. Buccaneer; or, he Red Sea-Raider.
By Co P. Ingraham.
Deadva Brandt; or. The Long Venzeanoe.
B Jackson Knox.
478 Prnnaclo P to: or. The Fool From 'Way Back.
By W. R. Eyster.
m Gladiator Gabe. the Samson of Santa Jack; or.
Yank Yellowbird’s Castle Crusade. By Wm. H.

Manning.
an Hawk-Sear; the Man with a Secret; or. New
York lclt s Spirit Trail. By Captain Howard
Mm".
461 The Silent Detootim- or,The Bogus N ew.
By Loon hawk. ’ Opt

5..

n; or Spread Eagle Sam's Dandy 4

olmes. '

B Col. 1’. lngi'ahain.

i483 Fush Fred. the River Sharp; or, Hearts for
' Stakes. By Ed.Willett.

i484 Captain Ready, the Red Rnnsomer; or. Nick
I I’eililie‘s Wild W( at inheritance. By
a 485 Rowlock, the Harbor Detective: or The Terrible
1 'l‘wini. Bv Jackson Knox.

i486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective; or,
By Wm. H.

l 482 Ocean Tramps; or. The, Desperadoes of the Deep.
I

Yank Yellowbird’s Search-Brigade.

: Manning.

487 Sunshine Sam, Chip of the Old Block; or, The
Silent Trail of the Silent Six. By Capt. Howard
Holmes.

; 488 The Thoroughbred S ort; or, The Big Bracer‘s

Bequest. By Jos. E. ladger, Jr.

§ 489 The Pirate Himter; or. The Ocean Rivals. By

l Col. P. lngrahani.

490 The Lone Hand in Texas; or. The Red-Gloved

Raiders of the Rio Grande. Bv A. W. Aiken.

491 Zi mg and Cutt. the Invincible Detectives; or,
i A recions Set of Scoundrels. By E. A. St. Max.
492 Border Bullet. the Prairie. Sharpshooter; or.

Yank Yellowbird‘s Black Hills Colony. By Wm.
H. Manning.

' 493 The Scou's of the Sea; or. The Avenging Buc

. cancer. By Col. P. Ingraham.

494 The Detective‘s Spy; or, The Invisible Rook.
r By Jackson Knox.

495 Rattlepnte Rob; or The Roundhead‘s Reprisal.

By Jos. E. Badger. r.

496 Richard Redflre. the Two Worlds Detective;

or. To the Bitter End. By Cs t. H. Holmes.

497 The Fresh in Texas; or, The ‘ obedo Millions.

By A. w. Aiken.
: 4% Central Pacific Paul, The Mail-Train S y; or,
‘ Yank Yellowbird‘s Iron Trail. By Will am H.
Manning.

: 499 Twilight Cl arlie, the Road Sport; or, Sulphur

I Sam‘s Double. By J. C. Cowdrick.

, 500 The True Heart Pards; or. The Gentleman

1 Vagabond. By Dr. N. Dunbar.

- 501 Sgfingsleel Steve. the Retired Detective; or.

I T e Relentless Shadower. By Jackson Knox.

502 Bareback Buck, the Centaur of the Plains; or,
The Trail of Six. By P. S. Warne.

503 The Dude from Denver; or, The Game at Ground
Hog By Wm. R. Eyster.

504 Solemn Saul the Sad Man from San Saba; or,
The Big Shell-Out. B Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

505 Phil Fox. the Gentee Spotter' or. the Private
Secretar ‘s Oath. By Captain H. Holmes.

506 Uncle onest. the Peacemaker of Hornet's
Nest; or. Yank Yellowbird versus the Leather
Jackets. By Wm. H. Manning.

507 The Drummer Detective; or. The Dead Straight
Trail. By Geo. C. Jenks.

508 Topnotch Tim. the Mad Parson: or. The Bad
Men of the Basin. By Ma or D. B. Dumont.

5% Old Falcon. the Thunder It Detective. or. The
Fateful Legacy. B Jackson Knox.

510 El Moro, the Corsa r Commodore: or, The Lion
of the Lagoon. B Col. P. Ingraham.

511 Paint Pete, the raire Patrol' or, The Rival
Rancheros. By Maior S. S. Hall.

512 Ca tain Velvet‘s Big Stake; or, The Gold Goths
of o Man’s Ground. Bv Capt. H. Holmes.

513 Texas Tartar. the Man with Nine Lives: or.
Yank Yellowbird’s Ecst Yank. By W.H.Manning.

514 Gabe Gunn. the Grizzly from Ginseng' or,
Solemn Saul’s "erapb. By Joe E. Bad 1-, Jr.

515 Short Stop Ma e. the Diamond Field tective;
or. Old Ealcon s Master Game. By J. Knox.

516 Chatard, the Dead-Shot Duelist; or, The Fate-
i’ul Heritage. By Col. P. Ingraham.

‘517 Buffalo Bill's First Trail; or. Will Cody, the

Pony Express Rider. By Ned Buntline.

; 518 Royal Richard the Thoroughbred: or. Long
Pete Jenkius's Convoy. By John W. Osbon.

519 Old Riddles. the Rocky Ranger; or. The Reser-
vation Castaways. By J. C. Cowdrick.

.520 The Lone Hand on the Caddo; or. The Bad

Man of the Big Bayou. By A. W. Aiken.

521 Paradise Sam, the Nor'west Pilot: or. Yank
Yellowbird‘s Great Diskivery. By W. H. Manning.

522 The Champion Three; or. Six-Foot Si‘s Clean
Sweep. By P. S. Warne.

523 Reynard of Red Jack; or. The Lost Detective.
By Captain H. Holmes. .

594 The Sea Chaser; or. The Pirate Noble. By Col.
P. Ingraham.

525 Fresh Frank, the Derringer Daisy; or. Millions
on the rn. By Wm. R. Eysti r.

5% Death Grip the Tendertoot Detective- or, A
Still Hunt for Old Secrecy. By Geo. C. enks.

527 Dandy Andy. the Diamond Detective; or, The
Twins of Tiptop. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

58 Huckleberrg. the Foot-Hills Detective; or, The
Rival Ranc men. By Lieut. A. K. Sims.

509 The Fresh in New York; or. The Vendetta of
Halo. By A. W. Aiken.

580 The Sav es of the Sea; or, The Avenging

r. y Col. P. Ingraham.

581 SaddlevChiet Kit. the Prairie Centaur; or, The
Border Blacksmith's Terrible Temptation. By
Wm. H. Manning.

539 Javert. the Independent Detective' or Captain
Cinnabar in New York. By Capt.  olmes.’

538 Oregon. the S&ort with a Scar: or. The Best
Man of Brace x. By Wm. R. Eyster.

534 Greenmountain Joe; or. The Connterteiter’s
Cave. By Marmaduke Day.

535 Dand Dutch. the Decorator from Dead-Lift; or,
Saul unday's Search for Glory. By J. E. Badger.

5% Old Falcon’l Foe; or, The Matchless Deiective‘s
Swell Job. By Jackson Knox.

587 Blake. the Mountain Lion; or. The Fresh Against
the Field. By Albert W. Aiken.

use Rube Rocket the Tent Detective; or, The
Who. By Goo. C. Janka.

 

 

I

Leon Lewis. '

l

539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective' or. The In-
visible Foe‘s Masquerade. By Wm.  Manning.

510 The Fleet Scourge; or. The Sea Wing of Salem.
By Col. Prentiss Ingrahani.

541 Ma'or Magnet. the Man of Nerve: or. The Muck-
a-) ucks of Animas. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.

542 The Ocean Drift; or, The Fight for Two Lives.
By A. F. Holt.

543 The M ynatc Detective; or. Major Million‘s
Joust wii 1 the Witch. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

544 The Back to Back Pards; or. The Right Man in
the Wrong Place. By Philip S. Warne.

545 Hustler Harry. the Cowboy Sport; or. Daring
Dan Shark‘s General Delivery. By W. G. Patten.

546 The Doomed Whaler; or. The Life Wreck. By
Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

547 The Buried Detective; or..Saul Sunday's Six
Sensations. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

548 Falconbridge. the S hinx Detective; or, The
Siren of the Baletul ye. By Jackson Knox.

549 Belshazzar Brick, the Bailii‘l of Blue Blazes- or,
Four Horse. Frank’s Frolic at Bad Luck r.
By Wm. R. Eyster.

550 Silk Hand. the Mohave Ferret: or. The Marked
Man of Arizona. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

551 Gar Kean the Man with Backbone; or, The
Gla store of Jack‘s Delight. By w. H. Manning.

552 Prince Primrose the Flovver of the Flock' or,
The Grand Camp at Paradise Gulch. By Lieut.
A. K. Sims.

553 Monte the Mutineer; or, The Branded Brig.
By Co . P. Ingraham.

554 Mad Sharp. the Hustler; or. The Drummer De-
tective‘s Big Lay-out. By Geo. C Jenks.

555 Gri Sack Sid. the Sam le Sport; or. the Rivals
of ock-about Range. yJoseph E. Badger, Jr.

556 Fresh. the S rt-Chevalier; or. A Big Racket at
Slide Out. y A. W. Aiken.

557 The Mountain Graybeards: or, Old Riddle's
Greatest Riddle. By J. C. Cowdrick.

558 Hurrah Harry.the Hlifh Horse from Halcyon: or.
High Old Times at uni Pan. By W. R. Eyster.

559 Danton. the Shadow Sharp' or. The Queen of the
Hidden Hands. By Capt. oward Bolmes.

560 The Man from Mexico; or, The Idol of Last
Chance. By Col. P. Ingraham.

561 The Thug King; or. The Falcon Detective's In
visible Foe. By Jackson Knox.

562 Lone Hand, the Shadow; or. The Master of the
Triangle Ranch. By Albert W. Aiken.

563 Wyoming Zeke, the Hotsfiur of Honeysuckle;
or. Old umiiity'a Hard oad to Travel. By
Wm. H. Manning.

564 The Grip-Sack Sharp; or, The Seraphs of Sodom.
By Jos. E. Badger. r.

565 Prince Paul. the Postman Detective; or. Crush-
ing a Serpent’s Head. By J. C. Cowdrick.

566 The Dauntless Detective; or, The Daughter
Avenger. By Tom W. King.

567 Captain Midn ht. the Man of Craft; or, The
Road-Knight’s ot. By P. S. Warne.

568 The Dude Detective' or Phelin McGallagin's
Hard Luck Hustle. By Wm. R. Eyster.

569 Captain Cobra. the Hooded M stery; or The
Quickened Dead. By Captain oward Ho mes.

570 The Actress Detective; or. The Invisible Hand.
By Albert W. Aiken.

571 Old Dismal, the Range Detective: or. The Hid-
den Cabin of Wind Canyon. By Wm. G. Patten.

572 gaugty Joe. the Jockey Detective. By Geo. C.

en s.

578 The Witch of Shasta; or. The Man or Check.
Ry Major Daniel Boone Dumont.

574 Old Falcon’s Double. ByJackson Knox.

575 Stead Han the Napoleon of Detectives.
By Wfiliam H ning.

576 SilverTongued Sld- or. The Gri Sack Sharp‘s
n Sweep. By. oseph E. ger. Jr.
577 Tom of California; or, the Actress Detective’s
Shadow Act. By Albert W. Aiken.

578 Seven Shot Steve, the Sport with a Smile. By
William R. Eyster.

579 Old Cormorant, the Bowery Shadow. By Capt.
Howard Holmes.

5“) Shadowing a Shadow; or. The Pacific Slaps
Dewctive‘s Triple Trail. By J. C. Cowdrick.

581 The Outlawed Skipper; or. The Gantlet Runner.
By Col. P Ingraham.

588 Joram, the Detective Expert. By Jackson Knox.

588 Captain Adair. the Cattle King; or, A Red
Ransom. By P. S. Warne.

584 Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King. By Ned
Buntline.

585 Dan Dixons Double; or. The Deadlock of Danger
Divide. By Wm. H. Manning. Ready Jan. 8.

5% The Silver Sharg Detective- or. The Big Rustic
in n. Ranch. y Albert w. Aiken.

Ready Jan. 15.

587 Conrad the Sailor Sp : or. The True Hearts of
'76. By 001. Prentiss lyngraham. Ready Jan.28.

588 Sand Sands. the Sharp from Snap City- or
Hoistyby His Own Petard. By Joseph B. Badger:

Ready Jan. 29.

A new law mry Wednesday.

 

Beadle!- DIIIIe Library is for sale all
Newndeaiers, ten cents per copy. or sent by a.
receipt of twelve cents each.

BIADLE AND ADAMS. Pnbliahsn.
0 William Street. New Yak.

/