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N 0 607 PublishedEverv eBeadZe 9% ﬂdamS; qublishers’ T°”°e“”°°"" Vol. XLVH.

Wednes‘iay' 98 WILLIAM STREET. N. Y.. June 11, 1890. $530 “ Ye“

 
JOE BOWERS’ RAGKET AT
RICARE CITY.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN,

‘ Auraon or “OVERLAND Krr.” “ KENTUCK, rm:
SPORT.” “ DICK TALBOT," “ THE WOLVES
or NEW YORK," ETC., ETC., E'rc.

CHAPTER I.
rm: OLD MAN on THE MOUNTAIN.

A NARROW mountain trail in the northwestern
part of Montana; the trail followed the course
of a small stream, and alon the path rode two
men, mounted upon the smn , mettlesome steeds
common to the region.
Both were dressed like cowboys, and armed
to the teeth, but there was a wide diﬂ’erence
in their appearance, and the material or their
costume.
One was a young man, with long, light hair,
which ﬂoated down over his shoulders, after the \ 
fanciful fashion common to the scouts who {01- : "\ ‘

low the lead of the renowned Buffalo Bill. _ “I’M JOE BOWERS, THE OLD MAN OF THE MOUNTAIN, AND IT cosrs 'rwo BITS to
A He wore a coat and riding-breaches of black " “ SEE ME, EVERY TIME I" THE BUNKER DECLARED.

 
2

Old Benzine. '1

 
velveteen; high boots—regular dandy cowboy
bootsrcame to his knees. His shirt was of the
finest linen, rufiied and embroidered in a most
fanciful fashion.

His weapons, a pair of revolvers and a ten—
inch bowie-knife, which he wore in the belt of
polished leather which girded his waist, were
nickel-plated, as handsome toms as any man
would care to own.

The broad-briiiimed Mexican sombrero which
protected his head was heavily ornamented with
gold and silver, and, like the boots, was as costly
about as money could buy.

The cowboy who sets up for an exquisite pays
particular attention to his hat and boots.

Despite the dudish style of his costume, a
glance in the face of the man would have told
any good judge of character that the rider was
a man of ﬁrm determination and dauntless
courage.

Gilbert Featherstnne the horseman was called,
and he was the sole owner of the One-Square
Ranch situated on the head-waters of Ricaree
(iii-coir, which ﬂows into Deep Creek, or Smith‘s

war.

Featherstone, from the peculiar style of his
dress, was known far and wide as the Cowboy
Dude, but no one presumed toimpose on him on
that account, for though he might be dudish-
looking in his dress and appearance, yet when it
came to a fight he was a regular lire-eater, as
more than one rough fellow had discovered to
his cost.

Featherstone’s companion was a thick-set, inns-
cular-looking man of forty or thereabout, with
a rough, weather-beaten face, the lower part of
which was covered with a short, black beard.

He was an ugly-looking customer, and well
deserved the name by which he was commonly
known, Black Tom Murphy.

Murphy was the superintendent of the One-
Square Ranch and the right-hand man of the
cowboy dude. ' .

Featherstone’s ranch, by the way, took its
name from his brand, which was a square with
the ﬁgure one in the center.

The trail ran along Ricaree Creek in the foot-
hills of the Big Belt Mountains, and the pair were
on their way to the ranch of the Cowboy Dude.

ne—Squure Ranch was strangely situated.

The countr at the junction of Ricaree Creek
and Smith’s iver was rough and rugged, totally
unsuited for either ranching or farming, but
some adventurous soul had followed the wind-
ings of the turbulent mountain stream and dis-
covered that it took its rise in a level, fertile val-
ley, a couple of miles square, but as it was re-
mote from the usual lines of travel—the nearest
road being the trail which ran from White Sul-
phur Springs to Diamond City, passing through
the depression in the center of the Big Belt
Mountains, which is so great that it Seems as if
it was arranged that way so that a road-could
go through—so far 03 that no one cared to make
a settlement in the valley until the Cowboy
Dude and his purd, Black Tom Murphy, hap-
pened to hear of the place.

They lost no time in examining the valley and
after a thorough inspection located there.

it was wild land, subject to entry, and the
pards hatched a plan by means of which they
scoured the greater part of the valley.

Accordin to law a man cannot take up more
than a hun red and’ sixty acres, but there is an
old uying “ there is more than one' way to kill
a cat, ‘ and in a case of this kind it is an easy
Patter for an unscrupulous man to evade the
aw.

The pards took up their land and built a
ranch, hen brought in cattle and cowboys and
each cowboy took up land, so that nearly all the
valley was possessed.

Improvements were made and the law appar-
ently lived up to, but when the time expired
and 'the Government gave the settlers a. clear
title, all of them immediately sold out to
Featherstone, so that he came in ipossession of
all the valley that was worth anyth ng.

Of course everybody that knew anything at
all about this matter knew that it was a swindle;
that the men took the land for the express pur-
POse of turning it over to the Cowboy Dude, but
so common is this practice that few regard it as
hem wrong, and the general opinion was that
Feat erstone showed himself to be a mighty
shmrp business man. . ,

As it is the nature of mankind to plﬂ the
goose and “ follow my leader," other so lers
came into the valley and took upland, although
the (30me Dude had taken every foot that was
 for anythin but these men soon made the

iscovery that eutherstone was an extremely
bad neighbor.

They Were Bub tedto all sorts of annoyances
and the most of t em were led an get out,

It was not possible for t em to prove that it
was the owner of the One-square Ranch who
was at the bottom of this mischief,and he was
always ready to pay a fair sum to the men who
were anxious to sell.

But there was one obstinate man who held on
to his land and boldly declared that he did not
intend to be driven away, and he openly said
that it was the Cowboy Dude who was re-
spous'ble for the trouble.

He was warned that his indiscreet utterances

‘ \

 
would be apt to make trouble for him, but he ‘
was headstrong and laughed at the caution.

One morning he was found dead, lying just
astride his little sod house, with a bullet through
his heart.

There was no clew to the murderer, and none
was ever discovered; in fact, nobody troubled
their heads about the matter.

The sheriff came up from Suiitliville, the near-
est town, and county seat, but his examinations
did not amount to anything, and so the tragedy
passed into history, as one of the strange crimes
not likely ever to he brought home to the guilty
man.

By exerting his powerful inﬂuence, it seemed
likely that the Cowboy Dude would be able to
keep out of the valley all settlers whose absence
he considered to be better than their company,
when a discovery was made which upset this
completely.

Gold was found in the mountain gulches in
the neighborhood of Ricaree Valley. not in large
quantities, so as to warrant the erection of ex-
tensive reduction works, but it was in such a
shit is that ordinary miners, with common tools,
could make good day’s wages.

So the camp called Ricaree Cit was founded.
It was easy enough for the Cow oy Dude and
his satellites to make things so hot in the valley
that the few settlers were glad to get out, but
when the miners came it was plain that no such
game could be worked on them.

At the beginning it looked as if all the neigh-
borhood country would be overrun by the gold-
seekers, for there was a regular boom for a
while; but it did not take long for the thing to
“ play out,” and Ricaree City from a population
of a thousand, dropped to about ﬁfty.

The men who remained had secured claims
which paid them fairly, and so they held on.

After the fashion of those little settlements in
the Far West, the “ city ” had taken on metro-

olitan airs and boasted a mayor and a marshal,

ut neither of the oﬂlcials had much to do, al-
though it was well known that Ricaree City
was one of the “ hardest " camps in Montana.

Its isolated situation, neighborhood to the bro-
ken and rugged Big Belt Mountain region, where ;
fugitives could readily find concealment from
pursuit, had contlhued to render it a refuge for
criminals whose acts had made them outlaws.

“Birds of a. feather ﬂock together;” it is an
old saying and an extremely true one. A man
who had sou ht refuge in ﬂight from the heavy
hand of the aw found congenial associates in
the little, lonely mountain camp, and the plain,
straight-forward, honest man who happened to
locate in Ricaree City was apt to diacover before
he had been there longlthat his neighbors were
not the kind of people 6 had been used to living
With, and if he was at all particular about his
associates, he would get out as soon as he could
conveniently.

Yet. 'Wild and lawless as were the people who
dwelt in the mountain camp, they got along
quite peaceably, and there were few disturb-
unces.

Everyman knew that every other man was
armed as well as himself, and so was slow to
provoke a quarrel unless he meant business.

f two men came to the conclusion that the
earth was not big enough to hold both of them, .
it was considere the proper caper for them to
march out to the level plains just beyond the
town, and there with the weapons of their choice
settle themauestion as to which one should be
transplan to another world.

These affairs were always conducted in the
most open manner, and a goodly number of the
citizens made a nomt of attend ng, so as to see
that the encounter was conducted fairly.

And the coroner’s jury, when it came to sit on
the bod , always returned a verdict of “ acci-
dental oath."

Ricaree City prided itself upon attending to
these matters in ﬁrst-class eastern style. ,

And so zealous were the inhabitants that the
law should be respected, that when a drunken
stranger, thinking that he was in a camp where
every liberty was permitted, drew a pistol with-
out warning upon a man with whom he uarrel-
ed, and shot his antagonist in the shoul er, the
crowd seized the man, tied him to a convenient
tree in front of the hotel, the principal house in
the camp, and ﬂogged him until he howled for
mercy.

Then he was released. and warned to depart,
con led with the injunction never to dare show
his ace in the Ricaree Valley again.

” If you had killed the man we would have
hung you, sure i” was the parting salutation of
the citizens, and they meant it, too, every word.

The Cowboy Dude and his superintendent
wglre on their way home, returning from Smith-
V 6.

At the next turn of the road they would come
in sight of the valley of Ricaree. '

The camp was situated at the lower end of the
valley, convenient to the gulches where the gold
had boon found. '

Around the bend in the trail rode the horse-
men, the cabins of the town came in view; this
sight they expected to see, but another one
met their eyes for which they were not pro-

 
pared. .
Sitting upon a rock. up above the level of their

heads, which jutted out from the cliff side, was
a strange-looking ﬁgure.

“ A fat, jolly-looking man, clad in s. most
miserable fashion.

His ﬂannel shirt had once been red, but now
it had faded into about a dozen different colors;
his coat was as bad as the shirt, and his breeches
had been patched with so many different pieces
of cloth, no two of them alike, thatit was hard
work to tell what the original Color of the gar-
ment had been; his boots were so dilapidated

' that it was not only a wonder how he managed

to walk in them, but how he continued to keep
them on his feet at all, and most assuredly the
soles and uppers would have parted com any if
it had not been for the stout cords whlc were
bound around his feet. .

But the oddest feature of the man’s unique
costume was his hat. It was a dirty brown. in
color with a high peaked crown and a rolling
brim, so softened by use that it could be rolled
up and stuck into a pocket like a handkerchief,
and this wonderful creation he wore jauntin
cocked over his right e e, and the brim hung
down behind forming a ackground for his re
face, fringed by the carroty colored hair, which
looked as if it had never felt the touch of a
comb. , . .

So surprised were the horsemen upon coming
so unexpectedly upon this strange ﬁgure that,
involuntarily, they pulled up their steeds and
stared in astonishment.

The stranger grinned in a 'olly way.

“ I’m Joe Bowers, the oldll man of the moun-
tain, and it costs two bits to see me, every
time!” the bummer declared.

“Well, who the deuce are you and where did
you come from i” Featherstone asked.

“ Me name it is Joe Bowers,
From England I did come!"

sung the stranger in a voice which the use of
strong liquor had rendered extremely uncertain.

If the readers who peruse these lines have
ever read any of the Dick Talbot novels they will
at once remember the irrepressible Joe Bowers,
the veteran bummer, Injun Dick’s faithful fol-
lower, who is about us oddacharacter as the
annals of the Wild West can show. _

“ Oh, your name is Bowers, ehf" Feather-
stone remarked. I

“It is, me noble dookl” cried the bummer in
the absurd, theatrical .way so common to him. .

“ I’m a gen’leman of high degree and you kin
bet or boots on it too.” .

“ ou look a durned sight more like a scare-
crow!” Black FOLD Murphy lobzgrved. .

“ Jud inot J me appare -— oresniany an
honest Egan beﬁts beneath a. rugged coat!”
Joe Bowers spouted. .

“ well, if a man’s honesty is to be judged by
the badness of his clothes then you ought to
rank high,” Featherstone observed, sarcastically.

“ Oh, I do,” and the bummer grinned and
bowed as though he thought he had received
acomplinieut. “When it comes to hanesty I
am away up at the top of the tree and don’t you
forge ,itl”

“ ebbe you ar’, hut Ishould hate to trust to
your wcrd, ’ Black Tom Murphy growled.

For some unaccountable reason he had taken
a. dislike to the fat stranger.

,“ Pardner, I am a reg’lar 'ewel of a man—s
diamond of the ﬁrst water i” no Bowers declar—
gd vaith a ﬂourish of his fat and extremely dirty

an . ‘

“ It is true that I am a leetle under the weather
DOW, but that is from circumstances be and in
control. When I started out from W _ite Su -
pher Sprin I had a good boos and a fair outfit
of clothes, at onthe road I met a gentle galoot
who persuaded me, by means of a “revolver, that
I would be doing a hristian act if I made him
a present of my boss and changed duds With
him, besides letting him have. what leetle valu-
ables I possessed, for, as he kindly remarked, I
might meet some rascal on the road who would
go throu h me.” _ , ,

“ He c eaned you out, eh?" Featherstone Bald.

“ Well gentlemen, if he didn’t do the Job up
slicker than a. whistle, you may take my head
for a football.”

“ Then you are broke?" the rancher re-
marked.

“Yes, sir-eel If gold-mines were selling for
two bits apiece, I couldn’t raise enuff to buy 3-
smell of one!” the bummer declared. . I ,

“ I don’t see what you want u {$31!}? r?-
gion,” Black Tom Murphy remark . “is I:
a mighty rough country for a man W1 03

mone .” . _
’ere town of Ricaree is a new

Y
“ ell, as this ’
cum I thou ht there mi ht be an opening (or
I mark! of geniizus like myse fl” the bummer said.

' s it. .

WI£111 argcolgbgimlahit you had. better turn round
and hoof it in the o potato direction,” the
rancher observed, “ on Will ﬁnd that there
isn’t any room inTBicaree City for men like
yourselfﬂf ,

“ Oh, you don’t know me yet—yon don t know
what a. gs. and genial cuss 1 am,” Joe Bowers
replied. “ kin 13pm my hapd to”almout uny-
thin . I am a re ar genius, am. ,

‘_‘§‘es, you 100% like one,” Murphy “ﬂared,
with a snort of contempt. '

n.‘._..-.

t... <.;‘Hr\u — ~~-— - A

 
b

 
. .t
f?
2,, ,
K
1/

    
' itmna have been in‘.DenVor."‘
. ‘ t ,

Old Benzine.

3

 
“ Oh, I am, and the fact that you can see it
proves that you are a man with a big head,"
the bummer responded, pretending to believe
that the other was in earnest.

" 1 kin juggle tumblers ahind a bar as well as
any man w’ot ever throw’d liker into a glass in
Montana. I'm a pretty fair miner, kin hold my
end up in n short-card game with the best of the
sharps, and when it comes to a tussle with the
tiger, I reckon I kin git as much out of his claws
as any man on this hyer footstool; then 1 don’t
take a back seat as a cowboy; and that reminds

’me, I reckon that you are the big-bug rancher
up in this region, the boss of the One-Square
Raiwh.”

“ Yes, I am the party,” Featherstone replied.

“Well, now, a guloot who passed me on the
road a while ago, said as how' he reckoned you
Would be along pretty soon, ’cos you Were a-get—
ting ready to leave Smithville when he started.”

“ What of it?" the rancher demanded, shortly.

“ I want a job on yer ranch,” Bowers ex-
plaincd.

Fontherstone shook his head.

“ N ury chance?” the bummer exclaimed.

“ No, I have all the help I want. Besides if I
Wanted men I would not take one like you; you
arle no cowboy, and you would not be worth your
an t.

“ Sport, I am like a singed catl" the bummer
declared. “I am adurned sight better than I
look. I am a mighty good cowboy, now I tell
yer, as cowboys run, and then think how ﬁne it
would be to have a galoot like me on yer ranch,
for when you wanted todrive 'dull care away
you could allers git me drunk and have fun with
mel" and a. broad grin appeared on the face of
the bummer as he made this novel announce-

ment.

“ Well, I don't think I care to have any fun
in that way,” Featherstone replied.

“ Then you can’t make room for me on your
ranch?” the bummer said, apparently not in the
least ut out by the refusal. , '

“ o, I can’tl?’

“ Ah, thar’s a full to proud ambition!” Joe
Bowers declared. “Now, if I we an ordinary
kind of a cuss I would be all broke up at this
b er disapp’intment, but you see it does not
5 use me in the least, and that is the sort of a

air-pin, I am! ‘

“ Sports, kin I strike you for two-bits a lece
to help me on in way?” the bummer ask , in-
sinuatingly. “ t is awful rocky, you know, for
a man to strike a. toan whar he don’t know a
soukwithout a cent in his pocket.”

“ i have no money to waste on men of your
stampl” the rancher replied, roughly. “ And
my advice to you is to turn y ur back on this val-
ley and get out of this sectio as soon as possible,
for if the men of this camp ﬁnd out that lyou are
nothing but a. ,drunken bummer they wil be apt
to make it warm for you.”

“ I will give you a dollar to bu a rope to
being yourself with," Black Tom urphy ex-
claimed, as the two rode on.

“ Oh. you will, will you, you black'muzzled
robber!” the bummer muttered between his
teeth as he gazed after the two. V
ter keep your ducal: to buy a rope for our own
hanging, althou b that ,will hardly e neces-
sary! for when udge Linch gits after you he
wil bring the rope with im.

“ The feller thatpassed alon said be reckoned
I wouldn't make much outof he Cowboy Dude,
and he was right. ,

“,The rancher and his pard are a. couple of res-
cals, if I am any judge, and mebbe I will have
a chance to get square with them before I quit
this byer town. --

“ And now I will try my luck in the camp,”
and the bummer descended to the road.

“ This h or Ricaree City is mine oyster
which I w th wit will open!” Joe Bowers de-
claimed, as he strode onward. , .

CHAPTER II.
PITOL PETE.

“11' 13311 I. toss u whether I strike a. ood-
nntured cuss who wi let his touch him or a
stake or a crossgrained galoot likely to boot me
out of his shebang," the bummer muttered, as
he trudged along. ‘f It is all a lotterynnd I
must chance it, so I “7.111 golfer theﬁlrstopening.”

The camp consisted of a Single street only,
and the majority of the houses were of the rud-
est construction. ‘

After passing six/or eight cabins the veteran
came to a saloon, a g ‘ -Slzed one—storied shanty;
which over. the door bore a rude sign represent-
ing a revolver, and under it was inscribed in ex-
tremely ill-shaped letters, the inscription: ‘ ’

PISTOL Pu'm’s PALACE.
. Joe Bowers stopped and examined the sign

 
- for a moment, then he shook his head and mm;

tered:'
“Well, darn my catsl I have seen at ogd
8

many rocky signs. in my life, but I W
bla d if this hyer ain’t the rockiedl; of them
all. nd a gay old place this is for some. but

Pistol Pete is a good .‘name, though; ,tbar’s no

reason wh he. shouldn‘t. be ,my maths well as

any man kin siu'ikeintliojtown. p
“ lemme see—whoa: “did! so. him! I reckon

\

\

“You had bet--

\" L, I.

And then into the saloon marched the veteran.
There was only one man in the place—tho pro-
wietor evidently, a tall, lanky man, a typical
esterner with a long, thin face, high check—

1 bones and a billy-goat board.

He was seated in an arm—chair, at a table, and
was busily enguged in shuﬂiing a pack of cards.

When the bummer’s shuddow darkened the
doorway e dropped his cards and made a move-
ment as t muin to rise, thinking that a customer
was coming, but upon inspecting the new-comer
he had doubts in regard to this, and so he settled
back in his chair and took up his cards again.

The moment Joe Bowers got well into the
saloon so that hc could get a good view of the
owner he struck an attitude of surprise.

“ Is it possible? kin I believe the eVIdence of
my blessed optics? Do I behold that great king-
pin of sports, Pistol Pete? Why, Petey, old
times rocks, how are you?” And with out-
stretched lmnd Joe Bowers advanced toward the
saloon-keeper.

But that worthy did not appear to be at all
desirous of reciprocating. '

” Rats!” he exclaimed. “ What leetle game
are on trying to play now, anyway?”

“ sit possible, Petey, old pard, that you don‘t
remember me?” ‘

“ New, I don’tl" the saloon-keeper growled.
“ I never laid eyes on you afore.”

“ Why, yes, you did,” Joe Bowers exclaimed,
affecting to be greatly surprised. “ Don’t you
remember them gay old days in Denver when
you was jest a—running the town 3"

“Never was in Denver in my life i” declared
the other.

“ Is that so?” the veteran bummer asked with
a look of profound astonishment. “ Well, mob-
be, I have got the town wrong. I never had no
great head for gitting towns right, anyway, but

can't be mistaken in your noble self. When I
came hooﬁng it along the road, and me peepei's
can ht sight of this hyer sign of yours, then
bac to me memory came the halcyon days of
Ezra, and I sad to myself sad I I am willing to

t a hat that this hyer I’istol ,Pete is the same
wonderful galoot that I once knew; the man was
all wool and a yard wide!”

“ Too thinl your leetle game won’t work 1” the
saloon-keeper declared. ,“Better travel ri ht
along! Open the door and let the wind how
you out!”

“Is it possible that you don’t remember me?
Are ggu going back on yer old purd, the original
Joe wersi”

“ Oh, I know you now; your name is Old Ben-
zinel" the other exclaimed in a sarcastic way.

blowing our breath on it, and you want to be
keerful ow you poke that nose of yourn

blown s y-high.”

The veteran burst into a loud laugh. ,

“ Petey, lyou allers were a. genial cuss!” he do-
clared. “ have seen many a man set up to be
a Joker, but you are the chief of them all. I
s’ you feel like opening wine, now,iu honor
0 your old friend, but ,I donlt want you to do
that- lain whisk is good enuﬂfor me."

“ ouwill ﬂu plenty of water in theerick,
and’you had better vamose now, mighty lively,

“ Well,‘Petey,‘I never thou ht that you would
go back on an old pardl" an the veteran bum-
mer shook his head in a disconsolate way. .

“ Go-longl I never saw you before in In life,
and I don’t know on from a side of solo cath-
e‘r,” Pistol Pete dec .

“ I s’pose if I should strike you for the loan of
a dollar until I sell my dog that you wouldn'tsee
the bluff!” .

" N at much! I wouldn't go a quarter on you!”
was the emphatic re y.

“ Ah, w’at does the post my? ‘Man’l inhuman—
ity to inan makes countless thousands mourn l’ ”
declared Joe Bowers with great dramatic dig-

nit .

‘yG-i've 7us a rest! I reckon that you are n
leetlecﬂ yer nutl Git a move on now, before I
rise and ﬁre you out.”

, “ Oh, that is all, right; don’t trouble yourself
on my account, I only stopped in tosee how you
was gettin along.”

During is conversation Pistol Pete had been
busily engaged shufﬂing the cards, and Joe Bow-
ers‘bsaad ke tmhis eyes uponblgim. ., t th ,

‘ , e , on ma awn u a e
of the eagovavfthii pistor. but yoh can’t with"
(2111:. uilieadiite rds for shucksl” the veteran ,9:-
c 1 , . - l

“ 0h, can’t I?” cried the other angrily. “,Meb-
be you kin show me how.” i

‘ ,You jest bet I kin l” the. veteran declared in
the most conﬁdent way. “ You areth todo
theipassmnd a bad ﬁst youurezn i ofit,
too, me noble lord‘ but. it tsst a paste
board jufgler , to do the- pass so that the trick -
can’t be enacted. Itisnoecsyjob to link the
bottom half of the k and put it in the zines
of the top half. Whl e a. ma is apparen only
shaming the keerds. and an extra )nan
“Ono‘kin doit. for the operation kn, out the
cut entirely, asthe cards on, go. back‘ in just
the , that they were in fore thecutwas;

 
l

    
“You’re the cuss who kin light a match by-

hearsay gunpowder if you ain’t anxious to be
' , There was a smart snap u the severed pack

 
t» ‘kn‘i"  
I as... “uneasiness”... are”,

the cards that the dealer may have worked dur-
ing the shuﬂle, but it stands to reason that if he
is skillful enough to do the pass not, he kin pull
of! his trick without any trouble.”

“ You have got the gift of the gab, sure enuﬁ',”
the saloon-keeper observed, "but I doubt very
much if you kin handle the cards one-half as
Well as you kin talk about it. I reckon you
must have been a parson some time, or else you
never would be able to sling words uroundso
lively."

“ Nary parsonl" Bowers replied; “ but I reck-
on my tongue is retty limbei‘.”

“ Limberl well: I should smile!" the saloon-
keeper declared “ It ’pears to me that it is
loose at both dude, with a j'int in the middle.
But, I say: if you kin handle the pastebourds
worth a cent, you have jest struck the right
town. This is the biggest camp for card-play-
ing that kin be soared in in all Montana. 3
go the hull hog hyer, bristles and all!"

“ Oh it does me proud to hear aich an ac-
couutl’; Joe Bowers declared joyfully. “ I shall
feel right at home."

“ Our champion sharp is a man called Billy
Keene, or Keen Billy. as the boys generally
twist his name, and I reckon he kin handle the
pestehoards about as well as the man w’ot made
em," Pistol Pete declared. “ I have been stack—
ing up ag‘in’ him for a week or so now, and, con-
sarn his pictur’, he cleans me out ‘bout every
time; one of the sharps who pretends to know a.
heap about cards put me up to this pass trick, as
you call it, and I war avpracticing of it, with
the idee, if I could git it dawn ﬁne, of ringing it
in on Keen Billy the next time we set down for
a leetle e of draw, but I will be blamed if I
kin 't t e hang of the thing
, "‘ mme show your roya
is worked,” the veteran bummer remarked.

He approached the table, Pistol Pete gave him
the cards, and Joe Bowers shuffch them with
the air of a man who had been there many a.
time before.

“ Now, Petey, 'old pard, jest keep or eyes
peeled, watch me all you know bowl , byer
is the ace of diamonds at the bottom of the
pack,” and the veteran held the cards up so that
the other could see that the ace of diamonds was
in the position be indicated.

“ Now cut ’em. Petey?” and Joe Bowers, with
a ﬂourish of his hand, presented the cards to the
saloon-keeper.

Pistol Pete obeyed the injunction, separating
the cards into two parts.

“ Koe your optics right on me, now, and see i

if you kin detect when I do the little hunky-
unky tric ” and as he s Bowers apparent—
yabrought t 9 two halves together, which would
p (is the ace of diamonds in the center of the
poo .

came together and Bowers asked:

“ Whar is that ace of diamonds howl"

“ In the center of the pack, and I have got
good money to back up in say-sol” Pistol Pete
declared, in the most posl ve manner.

He had not taken his eyes from the cards and,
was satisﬁed that the two halves of the pack
were exact! as they had been cut, and he reck-
oned that t e V previous” ﬂourish and snap that
the stranger had (produced when bringing the
cards together, he been for the purpose of de-
ceiving him.

)1
.nihs how the thing

“How much will you go on that—ton delr‘

ars

“ No, I reckon ﬁve is enuﬂ." ,

“ It is a go then! Five ducats that the ace of
diamonds ain’t in the center of the pack!"

" Five that it is—you can’t fool me—"

And what more the saloon-keeper would have
.said is uncertain, for Joe Bowers cut short his
speec y e pg 9 ace lemon lit-tho

h b xhlbiti , th of d' d:

bottom of the pack, in exactly the same-position
that it had been before the cut was made. The
veteran had made the pass. ,

Pistol rate stared in astonishment; he could
hardl , believe that it could be possible

" on see, high and mighty unhelpful: hyer‘

leetle trick goes to show how true is the old as -
ing that a man’s hands are a mighty sight quic -
erth’an his eyes,” the veteran bummer observed.
“ And now, old pard, I will trouble you for that
little five ducats, if you please,” and Joe Bowers
replaced

ke. . ,
EWell. I dgg‘tl hag: ’bout may; the saloon-ted
per grow , oo xtrem i as .

“ Didn‘t I do the trick,e “g
' “.Oh, yes, there isn’t any doubt’bout that. but
‘I reckon you was a-kinder playing root: on me
for to git a bet‘ on it i” I

“Noblest Roman of them all! it wu‘yourown
ideal” the veteran r led with great dgn .~
/ “ You made the 0 er of yer own freewi 0f

urse‘I took you up. It was assay form to
do the trick us to turn my handover."

“Yes, but if 1 had won ImkonI wouldn’t ‘

have got no live dollarsvout‘ of youl" Pistol Pete
exclaimed in a Bulky way. -

“ Now don‘t you make the mistake of

b appearancesl!’ ,Joe Bowers A remark

the and cheerful manner. _ “T man,

by appeam ceswill creatith left. This

1” the ether demanded. ‘

the puck of cards cn’the table as he - '

  
4

Old Benzine.

 
about alone, and I allers make it a point to rig
myself up so that if thar are any toll atherers
on the mad they will be apt to let me 3 ide.”

“ That is a good yarn to tell, but I ain’t believ-
ing all I hear now-a—days," Pistol Pete declared
with a sneer.

“Oh, pard, if you will jest recall those gay
old days of yore you will remember that the
original Joe Bowers was allers safeto tie tol”
the veteran exclaimed in a reproachful way.

“ 0h, bosh! You can’t play that on mel" the
saloon-keeper declared. “ I reckon that you
jest came in hyer so as to get a chance to beat
me out of my sends, and nary ﬁve dollars will I
pay you unless you show up live so as to prove
lthatuyou could have paid the bet if you had
ost.

“Now what kind of way is that to treat a
man?” Joe Bowers demanded. “ I speak more
in sorrow than in anger, but, Petey, old man,

on are giving me a rough deal!"

“ I will tell you what I will do,” Pistol Pete
observed, after thinking over the matter for a
moment. “If you kin show me how to work
that pass, as you call it, I will go youasaw-
buck—a good ten ducats!”

“I reckon, my gentle Petey, that we cannot
trade," Joe Bowers remarked, edging of! to-
ward the door as he spoke. “I might labor
with you for a month of Sundays, and when I

ot through you would not be any nearer to do-
ing the trick than you are now. The fact is,
old pard, your ﬁngers are all thumbs, and the
lLordpever intended you for a card-sharp; so-
ongl

And the veteran retreated through the door
followed by a torrent of abuse from the saloon-

eeper.

“ Well, I slipped up that time, and no mis-
take,” Joo Bowers muttered as he went on down
the street. “ But that galoot hasn’t got any
sporting blood in his veins or else he would not
have backed out of his hot when 1 had won his
money as fair as fair kin be.

“ Pistol Pete! bah! that is only a bluff; I will
bet he can't hit the side of a house, but I will git
square with him one of these da 5.

“ I reckon I must hunt up t is Keen Billy,
and I shouldn’t be surprised if I found him to be
a. sharp of the ﬁrst water. If he is, I reckon he
will be Willing to stake me when he discovers
what a genius I am.”

CHAPTE R II I.
ran sronr.

ACTING on this idea, the veteran inquired of
an old Irishman, who was smoking apipe and
sunning himself in front of a shanty a hundred
feet down the road from Pistol Pete’s Palace,
glﬁsre he could ﬁnd the man known as Keen

l y.

The Irishman pointed out a solitary cabin
standing all alone up on the hillside. and as Joe
Bowers climbed the little path which led to it
he could not help noticing how admirably the
cabin was situated for defensive purposes.

The ground was rough and uneven, and there
was no way of getting at the cabin except by
followmg the path.

In the hillside, which rose stee and abrupt
from the level of the little £00th 1 which inter-
vened between it and the valley, was a natural
depressmn, and in this the cabin had been built.

here was no way of getting at the building
except by the front approach and it was plain
that a skillful marksman would have little dun-
cultv in holding the house against a large force.

“Looks as if this hyer sport calculated that
somebody might want to go for his scalp some
day, and he determined to start in with the ad-
vantages on his side, and this goes to show that
this particular galoot has got along head," Joe
Bowers remarked, as he noted the advantages
of the situation.

The sun shone full on the front of the cabin
and when the veteran got so he could command
a good view of it, he saw that the door was open
and a good-looking man of thirty or thereabouts,
with clean-cut, regular features, dark hair and
piercing black eyes, sat in the doorway reading
a newspaper.

And as Bowers came nearer, he noticed that
the man was built in such a way 88 to give
promise that he possessed unusual strength, and
the form of his features indicated that he was
both resolute and daring.

He was nice] dressed in dark clothes, but
wore no vest, a awn-colored ﬂannel shirt, belted
in at the waist by a leather girdle with revol-
vers attached, covering his chest.

0 NOW, this hyer Sharp looks like the genuine
article,” Joe Bowersremarked, as he examined
the other with a criticaleye. “ No galoot of the
Pistol Pete stamp this time.”

The sport had not apparently paid any atten-
tion to the approach of the stranger, but Joe
Bowers conjectured that his ascent of the hillside
had not been unnoticed, and he was conﬁrmed
in this impression by the fact that when he got

- within ﬁfty feet of the reader he laid his news-
pl r on his lap and, looking toward his visitor,
n ded in a. friendly way.

‘_‘ Have 1 the pleasure of addressing Mister

William Keene?” Joe Bowers exclaimed, in his

 
pompous, theatrical way, and he made a low
how.

He had advanced until he stood within six feet
of the sport.

The sharp laid back in his chair and laughed.

“ You really must excuse my smiling.” he
said, “ but it is so long since anybod has taken
the trouble to address me by my ful name, and
in such a ﬁrst-class eastern style that the nov-
elty kinder breaks me up. Billy keene, or Keen
Billy most generally, is good enough for the boys
in this camp.”

“That is the free and easy style of this hyer
glorious wild and woolly West, Joe Bowers re-
marked with a good-natured grin.

“ Yes, the men out in this region don’t go
much on ceremon .”

“ Well, Billy, I am glad to see you," the bum-
mer announced with another respectful duck of
his head. “ I s pose I might as well drop the
mister business, or some of the boys will be
wanting to make a target of me on account of

utting on airs. Allow me to have the honor of
introducing myself: I am the old, original Joe
Bowers, that is the only handle I have ever had,
but since I struck this town a slab-sided galcot
suggested that I ought to be called Old Benzine,
and do you know, Billy, l have kinder taken a
fancytothat appellation, and I think I will cling
to it in the future. I have h’isted benzine enough
in my time to entitled me to the name, and
mebbe it will bring me good luck."

“ Well, stranger, I trust you will excuse me
if I remark that you certainly look as if you
needed a little run of luck to come your way,”
the sport remarked, with a look at the well-worn
clothes of the other.

“Oh, I am away down to the bed-rock; thar
ain’t any doubt about that,” Joe Bowers ad-
mitted, but he spoke in the most cheerful man-
ner, seemingly not at all depressed. “ And the
luck I have had lately has been awful.”

Then he related how he had been robbed on
the road.

“ Well, that was tough luck.”

“ And the worst of it is, the thing seems to be
a-following me right up," and then he told the
stor of his interview with Pistol Pete.

T 9 Shut listened attentively, and when the
veteran ﬁnished he indulged in a. hearty burst of
laughter.

“ The idea of that blockth trying anything
of the kindl” Keen Billy exclaimed. “ The
clumsy loutl He can no more educate his ﬁn-
gers to do tricks with the pasteboards than he
can tap ine trees and get whisky out of them."

“His eetle game is ﬁat ﬁxed to clean you
out,” Joe Bowers sugges .

“Yes, I know that; he has been after me at
odd times ever since I struck the town,” Keen
Billy remarked. “ He has had a good deal of
dumb luck since he set up his shebang here, and
he got the notion into his head that he was a
sport from Sportville; but when he came to
stack up against me, he speedily discovered the
diﬂerence between playing cards with a lot of
ignorant jacks who were not skillful enough to
pay for sour apples and setting down with a
sharp who understood the points of the game,
and had both sand and money to back his
cards.”

“ Yes, he admitted to me that you had cleaned
him out without any trouble.”

The sport laughed.

"He owned up, eh?"

“ Oh, he did I"

“ Well, I wonder at it, for men of his stamp
are seldom willin to admit that they ever get
the "worst of snyt ng.”

“ And he was practicing with the keerds jest
so as to be able to skin you out of your ducats.”

“ He will have to at a. new pair of hands and
a brand new head fore he will be able to ac-
complish that fest!” Keen Billy declared, con-
temptuously. “ Why, the fact that you were
able to beat him out of ﬁve dollars on that old,
worn-out trick shows what kind of a man he is
with the papers.”

“ I did it'ss slick as a whistle, but he wouldn’t
come up with the ducats. He crawled out on
the excuse that I hadn’t ﬁve dollars—that I
couldn’t have paid if I had lost.”

“And if you had shown up the ﬁve the
chances are big that he would not have paid.”
the sport observed. “ He would have found
some other excuse so as to get out of paying.
He is a. fraud of the ﬁrst water!"

“ And is he own up at the top of the heap
with a gun?” Joe were asked.

“ All. that anybody knows about the matter is
from his say-so. He claims the name of Piltol
Pete, and says he is a bad man, but whether he

is a king-pin with a revolver, and a man who-

likesto 0 around starting graveyards, no one
knows,’ the sport replied. “I do not really
know much about the man, for I am a. new-
comer in the camp,” he continued. “I have
only been here a. little. over a month, but from
what I have heard from the old-timers of the
town I should judge that he is not particularly
dangerous.”

“ One of the aloots whose bark is a ood deal
worse than his its, eh?” Joe Bowers o rvod.

“Yes, I reckon that is about the size of it.
But, Isay, sit down and make yourself com-
fortable. It is just as cheap to sit as to stand,”

 
and Keen Billy waved his hand to a round-top—
ped bowlder, which jutted out of the ground a.
yard from the door.

“ Me noble lord, you do me proud 1” exclaimed
the veteran, with an elaborate bow as he took
his seat upon the rock.‘ “ I s’pose I have made
it plain to you that I am clear to the end of my
rope. This hyer Pistol Pete dared me to put
up ﬁve ducats, but if it had been ﬁve nickels it.
would have been all the same; neither the one
nor the other could I have shown up. From his

name I reckoned that he was a sport, andI ,

sailed in to interview him with the idea that I
might strike him for a small stake so I could
have a chance to get on my legs ag’in, for, as a
rule, I kin ginerally take care of myself if I
only have half a.show.”

“ He is no sport!” the other declared. “He-
is a whisky-seller, and if you were to suggest to
him that sports ought to stand by each other,
and that when a sport was unfortunate enough
to go broke it was the duty of a brother sport,
who was ﬂush, to.stake him, he would undoubt-
edly think that it was a. ridiculous idea.”

“ I reckon he would, but I did not get a chance
to suggest anything of the kind to him,” Joe
Bowers remarked. “ When the chance came for
me to make ﬁve out of him I went for it, for I
would a heap sight rather get a stake that way
than to ask a man for it, but arter I skinned
him”he got so riley ’bout it that I had to git.
out.

“ And then you hunted me up. I suppose you
had an idea from what he said that I was a dif-
ferent sort of a cha from this Pistol Pete?”

“Yes, I reckone that you were a true sport,
and no make—believe.”

“ By the way, have you had any breakfast!"
asked Keen Bllly, abruptly. .

“Nary a bite, and I am jest a-dyln for my'
morning hitters, and that galoot o a Pistol
Pete never had the decency to ask if I had in
mouth on me!” the veteran exclaimed in a tone
full of disgust.

“ Oh, he is a hog l” the sport declared. “ But
I can give you a drink of whisky and a cup of
coifee with some hard-tack, which will brace
you up," Keen Bill remarked, rising as he
spoke. “ You see I eep bachelor’s hall here,
and as it happens I made more coffee this morn.-
ing than I wanted. so there is a cup_ left.”

Then the sport went into the cabin, while Joe
Bowers mentally thanked his stars that his lines.-
had fallen into such a pleasant place.

Keen Billy soon returned with a ﬂask and‘ a.
tin cup in one hand, and a small coﬂeeupot in.
the other.

" Help yoursolf,” he said, giving the cup and.
ﬂask to the veteran.

Bowers lost no time in complying, and took a.
generous drink of the whisky.

“Aha!” he exclaimed, smacking his lips,
“that is the elixir of life. That is the stuﬂ' to
stiffen a man’s backbonel"

“ Yes, or make it extremely weak and limbs!-
if he takes enough of the ﬂuid," the sport ob—
served.

“ Ah, yes, thar’s a. hull temperance sermon in
that observation, but I‘ don’t use it as a bevero
age, I take it as a medicine, you know," and
then the veteran bummer grinned.

“ I reckon that you' are sick pretty often,”
Keen Billy remarked.

Then he put the ﬂask in his pocket and ﬁlled
the tin cup with coffee. This done he carried
the coﬂeepot into the cabin and returned with
a big spoon full of sugar and acouple of the
large hard crackers, commonly called pilot
broad, but universal] known t roughout the
West since the army ays as hard-tack.

“ Aha! this is a banquet ﬁt for the gods!” Joe
Bowers exclaimed in his absurd, theatrical way‘.
And then he proceeded to. attack the crackers
and coﬂeedn a style which plainly showed he
was exceedingly bun ry.

The sport resumed . 18 seat and watched his
guest eat for a few minutes, and then said:

“ Do you calculate to make a living as a sport
in this camp!”

“81011 was me designs, high and' might sat-
np,” the veteran replied, with'his'mout {iill

The sport shock h 3 head.

“Don't think there is room, eh?” the other

asked.

“ Well, yes, there is room enough, as far as
that goes; the camp is not crowded with sports;
in fact, I may say that I am the on] one in the

lace who makes a business of it. here used to
about a. dozen, but this cam is not what it
was. The boom is allover, an as the pigeons
have departed, the hawks have also takep ﬂl ht.
Ricaree City is nothing but a steadynquletl ttle
town now, and unless some new mining discov-
eries are made the chances are that in a. year
or so there will not be ten people in the place.”

“ Is that so!" ,

“ That is the outlook. No bl loads havebeen
struck—nothing to warrant t e forming of a
mining company, andthe erection of reduction.
works. There is a little surface gold in the
gulches, which individual miners are getting,
making fair wages, but nothing more, and the
news of a big strike anywhere within a. hundred
miles would about depopulate the town. There
are a few cowbo s on the One-Square Ranch,
up the valley, in 0 help to make things lively

a.“

 
,...., a. ‘

 
01d Benzine.

5

 
once a month when they are paid elf, and if it
was not for the cowboys the camp would be as
dull as dish-water.”

“ You don’t say so?” Joe Bowers exclaimed in
wonder.

“ I am giving you the squarest kind of a lay-
outl” Keen Billy declared.

“ IVell, sport, seeing that things are so dull
how comes it that a man like yourself is content
to remain in such a town?" Joe Bowers ques-
tioned.

“ There are reason for it of course,” the sport
replied.

“ I don’t know nothing ’bout you, seeing as
you are a stranger to me,” the the veteran re-
marked. “But I allers set myself up as being a
good judge of men, and I should reckon from
what I have seen of you, as well as from yer
name, that you would be able to hold yer end up
almost anywhere, and I don’t see why you Want
to waste yer time in this camp when you might
make a good thing of it somewhere else.”

“ That is well argued,” the sport replied.
“ There is a reason, and I don’t mind telling

on what it is; and the reason which keeps me
in Ricaree City is also the one, I reckon, which
holds about nine out of every ten of the inhab-
itants of the place.”
d “Is that so?” Joe Bowers ejaculated in won-
er.

“ Yes, and it will not take me long to explain
the matter,” the sport remarked. ‘ As you are
probabl aware, since you have footed it over
the trail, this is about as isolated a camp as
can be found in Montana and I don’t believe
that anywhere in the West a rougher road can
be struck than the one which leads to it.”

“That is a factl” Joe Bowers declared. “ I
reckon I am a pretty good judge ’bout a thing
of that sort, for a man would be safe in betting
a big pile that there isn’t many galoots who
kin e scared up anywhere who knows this hyer
Wild Western land better than I do, and I must
say I never struck a rougher road.”

“The nearest town is Smithville which does ,

not amount to anything, and no man is ever
apt to come from there up here unless urgent
business brings him, so it is safe to say that
when a fellow takes up his resi‘lence in this neck
of the woods he is not apt to be troubled by
strangers calling upon him.”

“ I reckon notl” the veteran exclaimed.

“ The camp has dwmdled down so that the
back line only runs once a Week, and then it is
more for the mail and Express matter than for
passengers, so that if a man wanted to hide him-
self away from the world, it is doubtful if he
could ﬁnd any better place than this camp, that
is unless he went away all alone by himself in
the great northwestern wilderness and hid him-
self in the woods, remote from all civiliza-
:tion.”

“ I reckon I kin see what you are driving at,”
Joe Bowers remarked. “The men in this hyer
camp are ones who, as the poet remarks, have
left their country for their country’s good."

“ Yes, that is the way the most of us dwellers
in this camp are situated, I reckon,” the sport
observed. “ Now, in my.own case, I had the ill-
luck to get involved inaddﬂiculty with a cer-
tain man in a certain town; 'I \was a little quick-
er on the ‘draw’ than he was, and so managed
to come out ﬁrst best, but as my opponent had a
heap of relatives and friends in the town, while
I was a stranger, and almost unknown, there
was a terrible time kicked up about the matter,
.and if the crowd had been able to get hold of
me they undoubtedly would have hung me with-
out troubling judge or jury.”

“I reckon that you lit out,” the veteran ob-
served, with a. grin.

“ You are right, I did, and my foes followed
on my trail like a pack of hounds. They were
eager for my blood, and swore that they would
have my life if they had to hunt me clear to the
Paciﬁc Ocean.” /

“ Well, now, I reckon they were just ﬁerce and
awful cusses i”

“There isn’t any kind of chase so exciting as
the one where a human is the game, you know,”
the sport remarked. v

“ Oh, you kin bet a ile of rocks on that!” Joe
Bowers declared. “ have been there myself,
and I know how it is.” /

“ For a month the gang managed to make it
pretty lively for me, and half a dozen times I
only managed to get away from them by the
skin of in teeth, as it were,” Keen 'Billy de-
clared. “ hen I hap ened to hear of this camp
and when I learned a l the particulars in regard
to it I saw that it was just the place for me, so I
made a double on my track—started as if I was
going to the southeast, and instead come north-
west the trick threw the hounds OR the track,
and succeeded in reaching this ca mp all right.”

“ And I ’spose you feel safe hyer?”

“ Yes, for it is such an out-of-the-way spot
that it is not likely that my foes will be able to
ever discover that I am here, and if the do it
does not matter much, for they will not 9 able
to harm me,” the sport remarked. “ As I hinted
to you there is hardly a man in the town who is
not ‘ wanted,’ as these bloodhounds of the law
say, somewhere for something and, consequent-
ly, if any oﬁcers or private foes attempted to
get at a man, who had taken refuge in this camp,

 
Elie entire town would rise as one man to defend
1m.

“ Yes, yes, I kin understand that,” Joe Bow-
ers observed with a solemn shake of the head.
“ I have struck camps of this hyer kind afore.”

“ In the ﬁrst place the nature of the surround-
ing country is such that if a man had an hour’s
start, and was acquainted with the lay of the
land, it would be almost an impOssibility for
strangers to catch him, and then the citizens of
the camp would not permit any pursuit to be
made, unless there was man enough in the party
to clean out the entire valley.”

“ Well, it seems as if things were pretty nicely
ﬁxed hyer,” the other remarked, thoughtfully.

“ But I say, s’poso three or four men, who
were arter some particular galoot, who had
sought refuge in this camp, should sneak into the
town in disguise, making out, you know, that
they were miners, and watch their chance to
gobble the cuss they wanted?”

“ They would have to play a pretty deep game,
and they would never take their man out alive,
for the trail winds around in such a crooked way
that there are a dozen places where by means of
a short cut the party in retreating could be am-
bushed and cut 011’,” the sport replied. “ And
then the men in the town are wide awake too,
and it would be a hard matter for men in dis-
guise to sneak into the camp and keep their busi-
ness a secret, as you will see after you have been
here a while.”

“ I ain’t afeared of anybody looking arter
mel” the veteran declared, “ I don’t come hyer
to trouble nobody, and I reckon I kin make a
living out of these cowboys if I have half a
chance.”

“ Oh, I think you will get along, and here is
ten for a starter," and the sport handed over a
ten-dollar bill, which Bowers accepted with a
profusion of thanks.

“ Now you must go and report to the magor
of the camp, Big John Valentine. You will nd
him at the National Hotel. That is one of the
laws of the town,” the sport remarked.

“The idea is, I s’pose, to ﬁnd out what the
new-comer wants in the camp?" Bowers ob—
served, rising.

“ Yes, that is it.”

“ Well, I’m off, solongl I'm much obliged for
this leetle stake, and you kin bet yer pile I will
do as much for you some time!”

“Oh, that is all right' good-luck!” the sport
exclaimed as Joe Bowers departed.

 
CHAPTER IV.
A POOR PROSPECT.

THE hotel was the largest building in the
town and Joe Bowers had no difficulty in ﬁnd-
ing it.

Like the majority of hotels in camp of this
sort it was more saloon than hotel.

The landlord, Big John Valentine, was a mus—
cular, broad-shouldered man of ﬁfty or there-
abouts, and after the veteran got a look at him
he soon saw how appropriate was his nick-
name.

“ I reckon that you are the mayor of this
hyer town," Joe Bowers remarked.

“Yes, I reckon I am,” the big man replied,
scrutinizing the new-comer closely. ‘

“ I have just arrived in this hyer burgh and
as I was told that it was the custom hyer fer all
strangers to call on the mayor, I have sailed in
to see you.” Joe Bowers explained.

“ Yes, that is a fact, but who told you so?”

“ Keen Billy.”

“ Oh, are you a friend of his?”

“ Nary timel I never saw the sport until I
happened to run up ng’in him jest arter I got
inter the town.” ,

“How did you happen to come :up this way?
Been in any trouble?’

Now Joe Bowers was a keen old customer,
and as he had been posted in regard to the ante-
cedents of the majority of the men in the camp,
it occurred to him that if he should declare he
had not been in a difﬁculty the fact of his com-
ing to the camp mi ht appear sin ular, and so
he made up his min to admit that e was as big
a rascal as any of the townsmen.

“ Well, nothing to speak of,” he replied with
an air of unconcern. “There was a leetle
trouble with some unreasonable men in regard
to the ownership of a boss which I found up on
the Missouri, but it did not amount to much.
In sich a case when I. see that the gents are go-
ing to at angry I allers make it a rule to slide
out. ain’t the kind of a aloot, you know, to
have trouble with no man ’ ut any triﬂing no-
account boss.”

“Pessiny there was some talk of making you
a present of a hempon neck-tie,” the other re-
marked with a grim smile.

“ Yes, I reckon 1 did hear some sich talk, but
as I am terrible bashful ’bout sich things I
jest lit out, and didn’t give them no chance, if
they calculated anything of the kind.”

“ What do you reckon to do hyer?”

“ Oh, I ain’t particular—anything I kin hitch
onto. 1 am an old Paciﬁc Sloper and I reckon I
kin do as well in the gulches with a. pan as any
man you kin scare up in the camp.” ‘

The landlord shook his head.

“ Well, now, stranger, I will give it to you as

 
straight as a stringl” the mayor declared.
“ Thur’s a mighty small show for on to make a
living at that kind of business. don‘t believe
that thar’s a bit of promising country within
twenty miles of the camp that the boys hnin’t
been over ag’in and ag’in. The fact is the
thing is overdone. Thar are a few parties, who
have had the luck to hit on good bits of ground,
who are doing fairly—making a living, you
know, but not much more, and unless you have
got the rocks to buy a share in one of these
claims I reckon you will not stand much
chance.”

“ Oh, that is the old cry l" Joe Bowers re-
marked, with a knowing nod. “ 1 don’t think I
ever struck a camp yet where I didn’t hear jest
sich a yarn spun, but, me noble lord, sich tales as
that don’t skeer me for a cent; I am on
old-timer, I am, and what I don’t know ’bout
smelling out gold ain’t worth knowing. Don’t
you be afenred but what I will do as well us the
rest, and if I can’t ketch as much gold us some
of the other fellows in the daytime, I will make
up for it when I git ’em at a card-table at night.

The landlord laughed.

“ All, you are a sport, eh?”

“Well, I ginernlly manage to hold my end
up,” Joe Bowers responded, with a grin.

“Then you do not care to buy a share ina
claim?”

“ I reckon I ain’t got ducats enough to do
that " the veteran replied. “You see, when I
left came away in sich a hurry that I didn’t
have time to call on my banker and git my
stamps.”

“ You are not as well-heeled, then, ﬁnancially
speaking, as you might be?”

“ I reckon I ain’t.
bed-rock, for l'vcgot enough to keep me for a
week or two, and if I can‘t strike something in
that time it will be mighty funny.”

“Well, I shouldn‘t be surprised if you got
along all right, for I reckon you know the
re es,” the other responded.

‘ You can jest bet I dol“ Joe Bowers replied,
conﬁdently.

“ Say, you seem to be a jolly kind of fellow
and I don’t mind doing what I can to help you
along," the landlord remarked. “ Have you
secured any ro-lsting place yet?”

“ No, I haven't had time; I have jest struck
the town, you know."

“ You want a cheap place, of course?”

“ Oh, yes, I ain’t a-putting up at any palace
hotels jest now.”

“ Well, I will tell you whatI will do. Do you
see that shanty thar?" and the landlord pointed
toa small building which looked as if it had
been built for a horse-stall. “I ﬁxed that up
before I got my corral built; ’tisu’t used now,
and you kin have it to bunk in, for two or three
days until you have a chance to turn ’round.”

“ High and mighty satrap, you are a trump, _
and no mistake!" Joe Bowers exclaimed, much
to the astonishment of the other.

“ Don’t mind these leetle outbursts of mine.
I’m a kind of a genius, and I am often taken in
this way,” the veteran explained. “And now,
I say, do you s’pose there is an well-heeled
galoot in the town who would he Willin to grub-
stake me for a share of what gold may dis-
cover?”

The other shook his head.

“ I don’t believe that there is, but you might
try the Jew storokeeper over yonder, Moses
Cohen. But the fact is just as I have told you;
all the ground in the neighborhood of the camp
has been worked over so thoroughly that no one
is willing to risk anything on the chance that
any new leads kin be struck.”

“I’ll try the entle Jew, although I reckon
the odds are big that Iwill not be able to do
anything with him, for these sons of Abraham
never go into a game without the have all the
advantage on their side. Much o liged for your
kindness, Mister Mayor l" And then, with a
stately bow, Joe Bowers departed. K

He proceeded across the street to the store of
the Jew.

It was the only shop in the camp, and con-
tained a most miscellaneous collection of goods.

The owner of the establishment, a fat, jolly-
looking, red-headed, rod-bearded Jew, came for-
ward, rubbing his hands together unctuously to
wait upon the sap osed customer, but when 0e
Bowers explain is business, the Hebrew, with
many gesticulations and emphatic shrugs of the
shoulders, protested that he could not think of
going into any scheme of the kind.

“ Mv denr fr’ent, you vill only vaste your
timel’I he declared.

The veteran was too old a stager not to under-
stand that it would be useless to attempt to per-
suade the Jew to change his mind, so he re-
marked:

“ Of course, as I am a stranger in these hyer
parts, I don’t know exactly how the land lays
and what the outlook is, but I reckoned as some
strikes had been made, there was a chance that
more might be hit.”

But the Jew talked just the same as the land-,
lord' there was no chance.

“Iwill not put any cash in any tools, then,
until I take a trump and see what the country
looks like with my own peepers,”the veteran
announced.

I am not clear down to the 

6

Old Benzine.

 
So be invested in some crackers and cheese,
and a pint ﬂask of whisky, then sallied forth.

He turned into the ﬁrst gulch he came to and
followed it up.

As it happened, it was the one in which the
best strikes in the neighborhood of the town had
been made, and as he passed the various claims,
the veteran stopped and converseed with the
miners.

All told the same story; a man could make a
1iving, but not much more; all were anxious to
sell out, and were ﬁrm in the belief that all the
big strikes that would ever be niadein the neigh‘
borhood of Ricaree City had already occurred.

“ I reckon I stand a heap sight better chance
at poker than I do at mining,” was Joe Bowers’s
comment, as he songhta secluded nook Where he
eat his lunch, drank his whisky and slept until
the shades of night came on.

Then he made his way back to the camp; was
lucky enough about nine o’clock to strike a
“little game,” and he went in to improve the
opportunity for all it was worth.

The veteran was an excellent player, and al-
though the game was limited to small stakes, yet
as luck ran his way, when midnight came the
adventurer had managed to Win ten dollars.

“ Well, I reckon I can manage to live in this
b er camp for a while, even if I can’t strike any
dirt,” he soliloquisied, as he made his way to the
shanty where he was to pass the night. There
was a heap of hay in one corner, and in ten min-
utes the veteran was fast asleep.

CHAPTER V.
UNEXPECTED VISITORS.

Jon Bownns slept as sleeps the man whose
conscience is clear and whose mind is easy.

For a good two hours the veteran Landed in
the land of Nod, and then he was rudely
awakened from his slumbch bya rough hand
grns )ing him by the shoulder.

“ ullo, wake up!” cried a harsh voice.

Joe Bowers had been through too many ad-
ventures to he astonished at a little thing like
this, and be immediately rose to a sitting pos-
ture, rubbed his eyes and looked around.

What he beheld was not reassuring.

There were three men in the place, all robed in
long, black gowns, which extended from their
necks to their heels, so that it was impossible to
see what they had on underneath.

Over their heads were drawn comical black
hoods, through holes in which their eyes
glenmed.

Each man had a cocked revolver in his hand,
and the polished barrels glistened ominously in
the rays of light reﬂected from a lantern which
was suspended on a nail in the side wall.

This was a complete surprise, of course, and
although Joe Bowers did not manifest any par-
ticular alarm, merely staring at his unexpected
visitors, yet in his heart he was completely dis-
gusted at the idea that he should be treated to a
surprise-party of this kind on the ﬁrst night of
his sojourn in the town.

“Do not attempt to give any alarm, or else
your blood will be on your head !” cried the
masked man who had gripped the veteran by
the shoulder, and to give due effect to his words,
the speaker pressed the cold muzzle of the re-
volver a inst Joe Bowers’s head.

“ Hol on! don’t do that!” exclaimed the
veteran, in alarm. “Take that darned gun
away from my noddlel Yer blamed ﬁnger
might slip and then where would I be?”

“In a fit condition for planting, I reckon l”
replied the disguised man with a hoarse laugh.

“Yes, but I ain’t anxious to have anything
of that kind happen,” Joe Bowers protested.
“This ain‘t the season for planting seeds like I
am. '

“ Be careful, then, not to try any monkey
business,” the other warned.

“ Monkey business! what do you take me
for?” the veteran exclaimed in an indignant
way. “ Do ou s’pose that I am a blamed
tenderfoot’l o, sir-eel I will have you to know
that I am an old hand, and I have sense enough
to know that when Iain held up in a workman-
like manner, the best thing to do is to grin and
bear it.” ‘

“ I am glad to see that you have the right idea
about the matter,” remarked the taller man of
the two who stood in the center of the apart-
ment, and who from lhe tone of authority in
which he spoke Joe Bowers conjectured to be
the leader of the three.

“ Oh, yes, I am jest chockfull of sense!” the
veteran declared. “ You kin tap me any where
and draw out wisdom by the gallon l”

“ Whisky more likely,” the masked leader de-
clared.

“ Mebbe that is so," Joe Bowers remarked.
“ I reckon I will have to admit that I have pun-
ished my share of bug—juice, and a long-headed
galoot suggested since I struck this hyer cam
that I ought to be called Old Benzine, and
ain’t sart’in that he isn’t right.”

“Do you know who we are?” the chief of the
three demanded.

“I reckon that you are tax-gatherers,” Joe
Bowers replied, promptly. “But I say, boys,
you ought to go light on me. for I have had an
awful had run of luck lately.”

“ Oh, we will treat you right; don’t you
worry about that,” the masked man replied.

“ Well, it does me proud to hear you say so,
for I reckon no man eVer struck this valley
much worse ﬁxed than I was when I booted it
inter the camp," Joe Bowers remarked. " Some
gay and festive cusses on the road, jest outside
of White Sulphur Springs, everlastingly went
for me—took my hoss, all my cash and stripped
me right to the naked buﬁ', jest a—giving me
these hyer rags.”

“ If thar were any corn farmers up in this
valley you would do right well to hire out for a
scare-crow,” the third one of the masked men
sug ested.

“ reckon I could ﬁll the bill in that line,” the
veteran admitted.

“ lVell, now, we will come down to business,"
the chief remarked. “ We three are known as
the Black Cups of Ricaree, and it is our busi-
ness to interview all strangers who come into
this hyer valley.”

“ I’m proud to make yer acquaintance, gents,
and I am yer servant to command,” Joe Bowers
declared. “ And as I said afore, boys, for
mercy sake go light on me l”

“ How are you ﬁxed?” the outlaw chief
asked.

“Well, I have got jest about money enuff to
sw’ar by, and that’s all,” Bowers replied, with a
rueful face. “ I war in a leetle poker game,
and contrived to pick up a few ducats.”

“ Oh, yes, we know that—we know all about
what you have done since you struck the town!”
the masked leader declared. “ We makeI it a
point to keep our eyes on all strangers until we
get a chance tointerview them.”

“ You run the thing right up to the handle,
don’t you?” the veteran exclaimed, in accents
of admiration.

” We calculate to play the game for all it is
Worth," the chief replied.

“I am pretty badly off ,jest now,” the veteran
remarked. “ But from the way I started in to-
night, Ireckon that if you had postponed this
visit for a week or two, that it would have been
money in your pocket.”

“That may be, but we do not do business in
that way," the unknown replied. “ Our rule is
to call upon all strangers as soon as we can—to
visit them the ﬁrst night they stop in the camp,
if it is possible to arrange the matter—and we
usually tax them one-half of what loose change
they may have in their pockets. This little tax
gives them the freedom of the valley, and we
never trouble them after that.”

“ Yes, I see. Well, now, that is quite a
scheme, I must say."

“ And then we make it a point to examine
them in regard to the nature of the business
which brings them to this camp,” the masked
leader explained.

A look of surprise appeared on Joe Bowers’s
fat face.

“ You are something more than ordinary tax-
gatherers, I reckon,” he exclaimed.

“ Yes, you might set us down as being the
guardians of this hyer valley of Ricaree, for we
make it our business to See that no undesirable
men come into it.”

“Yeyes,” the veteran said slowly, as if he
did not know exactly what to make of this state-
ment.

“ Now, you have told a good, straightforward
story,” the chief continued. “And if it is the
truth we haven't any objections to your taking
up your quarters in this camp, but before that
point can be settled, the ﬁrst thing to do is to
ﬁnd out whether your am is true or not.”

“ Hope I may die if t ain’t!” replied the vet-
eranTpromptly.

“ alk is cheap, but it takes money to buy
land,” observed the masked man, sententiously.
“ I suppose you know that there are some men
up in this valley who were unlucky enough to
get into trouble before they settled hyer, and, in
fact, one of the reasons why they have come up
into this region is to get rid of sheriffs and ver-
min of that kind.”

“ Well, I ain’t been hyer lonlg enuh‘; to be very
well posted, but most camps Ii :2 this one giner—
ally have some men in ’em who ain’t anxious to
git within shaking-hands distance of the ofﬁcers
of ' the law," the veteran observed with a
grin.

“ Sheriffs who know this camp understand
that we Ricaree men have never allowed any of
our citizens to be taken out of the valley by
force, but on a few occasions some smart Alecks
have thought that the could sneak into this
town in disguise and ay low until they got a
chance to corral their man.”

” A very mean, low’down, no~account game l”
Joe Bowers declared, in indignant accents.

“And you ain’t the man to try a thing of that
kind, are you?” the masked chief inquired in a
sarcastic way.

“ No, sir-eel” the veteran res nded promptly.

” We are safe in betting on t at, eh’l’ the other
demanded. .

“ Yes, sir; you can put out all the ducats yo
kin rake together, and you would win, every
time t” Joe Bowers declared, in the most emphatic

way.
“ I hope that you are telling the truth, for it

 
is mighty unpleasant for us to have to put the

screws on a man when we find that he is lying,
about the matter!” the masked chief remarked
in a menacing way.

“ Yes, I reckon so, but you have to do such
things once in awhile, I s'pose,” the veteran re-
marked, evidently not greatly disturbed by the
threat. -

“ We will talk right plainly to you now, and
you want to think this matter over carefully
and not make any mistakes, for it will cost you
mighty dearly if you do,” the disguised man
warned.

“ Don’t you be afraid! I know the run of the
game jest as well as though 1 had put up the
cards myself!" Joe Bowers assented.

“ If you have come up into this valley to play
any little trick on any man in the camp. the
best thing for you to do is to make a clean
breast of it, and then to-morrow you can quietly
get out and no one will be the wiser; but if you
persist in your yarn that you haven’t come here
on any secret business of this kind, and we ﬁnd
out that you are lying, you will be killed as
quickly as though you were a mad-dog!” the
masked chief declared, sternly.

“ Pard, I’m honest-—the clear white article,
and no mistake 1” Joe Bowers protested.

“Well, I hope so, but we will soon ﬁnd out,
for we calculate to search you,” the disguised
leader, remarked. “And if we find any evi—
dence in your clothes that you are not straight
we will go for you in a way you will despise."

“ Go ahead! you can’t skeer me!” the veteran
declared.

“We will strip you clean to the buff, and if
you have any papers hid in the lining of your
clothes you can bet your boots that we will
shell ’cm out!”

“ Sail in as soon as you likel Au y papers that
you ﬁnd I will be willing to‘ eat, and I ain’t
hungry now either!” Joe Bowers exclaimed.

“In the ﬁrst place fork over your cash l” the
masked chief demanded.

The veteran put his hand into his pocket,
ﬁshed out a handful of silver, two or three do]-
lars’ worth, and then gave a bowl of anger and
dismay.

“ What is the matter?“ cried the spokesman.

“ Some galoot has been through my pocket
and touched me for my roll l” Joe Bowers ex—
claimed. ,

The masked men laughed, for this circum-
stance struck them as being extremely funny.

“ Maybe you have put it in some other
pocket,” the chief suggested. .

“ No, I didn’t! I remember putting all the
cash together in this I: er one jest as well as can
be!" Joe Bowers dec ared. “ Arter we got
through the game one of the boys suggestedthat
I ought to stand treat, seeing as how I had come
out a winner.”

“ Well, that was all right," the other observed.

“ I know it; I ain’t saying anything ag’in’ it!”
the veteran declared. “ I was agreeable, of
course. -

“ I asked them to all waltz up to the bar and
I paid for the bug-juice like a man, and as I had
been h’isting considerable benzine, I _ was foo]
enuﬂ to pull out my roll—jest a little bit of brag,
you know, so as to let the gang see that I was
well-ﬁxed, and some ‘durned cuss was smart
enuff to git away with the stuff arter I put the
money back in my pocket. I noticed at the
time that some of the gang were inclined to be
durned familiar, slapping me on _the shoulders,
punching me in the ribs, and saying that l was
one the best men that had struck this hyer camp
for a dog’s age, and while this funny busmess
was going on, some galoot took advantage of it to.
go through me!"

Again the masked men laughed; the rage and
disgust of the veteran bummer appeared to be-
very comical to them.

“ Oh, you kin haw, hawl all you likel" Bowers
cried. ‘ It may seem durued funny to you, but
if you were a-standing. in my shoes, I reckon it
would take you some time to see where the laugh
comes in.”

“ Oh, well, we are out, too, if you come to
that,” the chief of the masked men observed.
“ If you haven’t got the money we cannot take
our whack out of it.”

“ Yes, that is so; I never thought of that,” the
veteran admitted,

“You see that we are in the same boat,” the
other continued. “ This paltry two or three
dollars don’t amount to anything! I should be
ashamed to take a whack out of that, so we will
have to present you the freedom of the town
free gratis, for nothing!”

“ Well, I’m ’tarnelly obliged, but when I make
a raise I will whack up if you will QWN'S‘? It 50
I kin "pony up the money when I git my claws

n t.

“ Oh. that is all right; you need not trouble
yourself. .We only collect tax on what a man
brings into the camp, and as you haven’t got
anything we will let you run."

"‘ Much obliged! this hyer treatment shows
that you want to do the squar' thing,” Joe Bow-
ers declared.

“ Search him, boys l” the chief commanded.

“ Sail in your ele hantsl I’m yer antelope!
You will ﬁnd that am all white, and a yard
wide!” the veteran declared.

 
/
And search him the masked men did in the

*3";

. A» . ,_~

 
my. ’ilnl‘ l, _1:

01d Bennine.

 
7

 
most thorough manner, examinin his clothes so
that not a square inch escaped their scrutiny.

It was evident from the way they went about
the work that they suspected he had some papers
‘, concealed about his clothes, but they soon satis—
' ﬁed themselves that this was not the case.

“ Didn’t I tell ‘yer that I was all squar’l" Joe
Bowers demande in triumph as he dressed him-
self after the search was completed.

“ Yes, but this is a mighty uncertain world,
and it isn't always safe to believe what every
man says,” the masked chief replied.

“ Well, I reckon that you are satisﬁed now
that I am giving it to you straight?”

“ Oh, yes, we will pass you. We will not
trouble you again, and, bark yel Just keep your
tongue between your teeth in regard to this lit—'
tle visit of ours," the chief warned. “ It will not
do you any good to go round the camp blabbing
about it.” ,

“ Don't you be afeard ’bout that!” Joe Bowers
exclaimed. “ I am not one of the kind who goes
around town telling all I know."

“ Well, I reckon that your head is screwed on
all right, and as long as you mind your own busi-
ness you need not be afraid of getting into any
trouble in this camp," the other responded.

, “I s’pose I kin go to roost ag’in?” the veteran
.1. remarked.
'f “Yes, turn in as soon as you like."
~ “ Sorry that you didn’t get the chance to
‘3 . corral some wealth, but leetle sligeups of this
‘ kind will happen no matter how erfully you
‘ run the game,” .Ioe Bowers observed, with the
air of a philosopher as he laid down again upon
3%, . the hay.
‘gi “ So-longl” responded the masked chief, and

, then, taking the lantern with them, the three
de artcd.

oe Bowers waited until he was satisﬁed that

the intruders were gone for good and then he
chuckled softly to himself: ,

“ Now see how it proﬁtsa man to have a head
on his shoulders,” he murmured, “I had a no-
tion that some ornery galoots might take into
‘. their noddles to go through me to—ni ht, and so

I hid myroll: if hadn’t, these hyer lack Caps,
as they call themselves, would have got away
with the biggest part of it I”

And so, chuckling over the cunning he had dis-

played, the veteran fell asleep again.

 
. CHAPTER VI.
g m BELLE or mean“.

11' was a bright, beautiful morning, and over
the prairie award a. couple of miles from the
camp of Ricaree éity, rode a handsome, dashy—
looking girl, mounted on a creamucolored pony.

She had dark hair and eyes, regular features,
ﬁnely-cut, whereon shone the bloom of health,
and a beautifully pro rtioned ﬁgure. '

Thi was Blanche a ntinekdaughter of the
keeper of the hotel, an by far the handsomest
gir in the camp. ,

She was universally known as “the Belle of
Ricaree. , -
Attracted b some clumps of wild ﬂowers she
turned aside rom the main prairie and rode,
into a broad gulch which ran up into the foot-

7 hills of the mountain range. I

This gulch was abouts. quarter of a mile wide,
and was thickly interspersed with little clumps
of timber. ‘ '

In her search for wild ﬂowers the girl rode
well into the gulch, and updn coming to where x]
the blooms grew thickly she dismounted so as to ‘
pluck them. ‘ ' ,

V Hardly had her feet touched the ground when
out from a clum of. timber came a;snarlln
mountain lion, wh ch had been disturbed in his
\ lei]?- by the ap roach of the new-comers. !
t was a ful grown beast, and as ugly a one as
an hunter would care to meet. ,
he moment it made its appearance the pony-
caught sight of it, and wit a wild neigh of
alarm the steed broke away from. the grasp of
its mistress and ﬂed at the top of its spee .
‘ , The ﬂight of the horselleft the girl completely
helpless, for her revolver was.in the ho star of,
the saddle andrso had been carried awe. by the
i. D!-
pcfShe, had no better weapon than a penknife
With which to defend herself, but not withstand-
 ’ ling her peril sheadid not give way todespair,
{and although the color had ﬂed from her cheeks,
. yet she faced the beast with .nndaunted mien,
‘ drew_ the little knife from her pocket, and, open-
ﬁifg 1t, prepared to struggle bravely for her

 
e. i
The huge cat was only some, thirty feet away
and was evidently puzzled at being thus boldly

outed.

the girl had attempted to ‘run them is no.

ht that the beast would have immediately

e,   to the attack, and, undoubtedly, have
_. .ioyez'taken her before shercquld have got ten

. feet away, but caution is one of the prominent

icharactenstics of ll the beasts of the cat tribe
" Iran: the lion dow war and the fact that

\' human faced him tEad

he

e, t e brute pause; v ‘ _,

Hp crouched low upon the ground, his tail
 . .to‘andfro. ~‘ “ "

   
murmured with lips from whence all the blood
seemed to have ﬂed.

Then, all of a sudden, the sharp crack of a
riﬂe rung out on the mountain air.

The mountain lion gave one mighty leap up-
ward, clawed with his outstretched paws at the
air, and then came down within a couple of
yards of the astonished Blanche, writhing in the
agonies of death.

A moment the girl gazed upon the great beast,
gasping in its last pangs, and then, her strength
suddenly deserting her, she fell upon her knees,
as weak and helpless as a child.

Out from acovent on the hillside came the
man who had ﬁred the timely shot.

It was the sharp, Keen Billy.

He hurried to the girl, thinking that she was
going to faint, revulsion of feeling which had
overcome her was not strong enough to reduce
her into insensibility, and when the sport reach-
ed her side and casting the Winchester riﬂe,
which had sent the death-dealing ball into the
brain of the mountain king, into the hollow of
his left arm, he assisted the girl to rise to her
feet, then conducted her too. convenient bowlder
which jutted out of the earth at the foot ofa
stunted oak, affording a seat.

“Let me rest here for a moment,” she said,
as she sunk upon the rock and leaned back
against the tree, her breath coming thick and
hard. “ I will be all right in a few moments.”

“ Oh, yes, undoubtedly,” the sport remarked.
“ This ugly brute must have given you quite a
scare, although I hardly think that he would
have dared to attack you, even if I had not
come to your assistance, for your bold stand
confused him, and there are very few of these
big'cats who care to attack. their prey from the
front. It is always their game to work a sur-
prise if they can. They like to creep up and
take their victims by a rear assault.”

"If you had not ﬁred as you did I should be
a. dead woman by this time, ' Blanche declared.

She was breathing more oasil now, and the
color was beginning to return to er cheeks, and

u—a
...

s.

p“ Well, he did look threatening, but, as a. rule,
they will not attack unless they can take their
prey by surprise.”

“ In this case the beast had sure! marked me
for a victim and I can thank you or my life,”
the girl declared, a grateful look shining in her
great, dark eyes.

“ Oh, that is all right," the sharp re lied care-
lessly. “ I am glad to be ablevto be 0 service to
you, and I do t doubt that you would have
done as much f r me if you had the chance."

“ Yes, I would, indeed; but that doesn’t alter
the fact that I am indebted to on for my life,
and I shall never be satisﬂe until I have a
chance to repay the obligation i”‘ Blanche de-
clared, gazing upon the sport with eyes full of
gratitude. .

“New, I be that you will not say anythin

more about t e matter,” Keene replied. . “ t
was just the chance of accident that enabled me
to get the opportunity to lay this fellow out. I
owe the whiskered rascal a grudge anyway, for
now that I know he was in the neighborhood, I
understand what frightened the antelope-s away
that l was lying in wait to get a shot at. I spied
them same time ago feeding down throu h the
foot-hills toward the gulch, and I\imme lately
went into ambush soas to get a shot at them,
but ust as they were coming within range, they
\sud enly stopped eating and sniffed the air as
though the‘gi ad scented something which they
did not ll e, then, after‘hesitating for a few
moments, they bounded off up into the hills.
That was about ﬁfteen minutes a o.‘ I held my
position, for I had an idea that w tever it was
that had disturbed them ‘ might come within
range so I could get a crack, but this cat must
have come down into the gulch in the shelter of
the timber, for I did not see him until he sprung
out at your approach.” '

“Oh, it is all very well for you to make light
of the great service which you\ have rendered
me, but I am not disposed to look‘ at the matter
in that way i” the i_rl declared. “ WhenIthink
of the danger to w ich I was ex —the dead—
ly peril from which your riﬂe-s ot saved me, I
am ﬁlled with a feeling of devout thankfulness,
and as‘ I said before, I shall never be satisﬁed
an H am able to show you in some way how
much I a preciate the service.” '

“ All ght; if you want to look at it in that
way, I so pose it will not do any good for me to
object. ‘heretis an old saying. that a willful
woman will have her own Waynand it is my
opinion that if a man is wise he Will not attempt
to interfere ‘wnh her having it," the sharp re-
marked with a laugh. 1

9‘ Ah really, you must not think thatI am
willful because I feel as I do about this matter,”
the girl remarked, with a pretty pout of ,her
rich, red lips. ‘

‘ Her color had all returned now,.and as the

sport gazed down upon her, upturned face be
t oug t‘that he had never‘looked upon a pret-
tier girl, for the earnest expression which she
now were added mes ably to her beauty. , -

 
her take me into your holy
dreadful hour of   the 

   
""Of course it is not silent for me to as
logean i Marius he responded itb
 “MW”,  t ‘

 
should have made you my preserver," she-
remarked, slowly, a thoughtful expression upon-
her face.

Keene seemed to be puzzled by this remark,
for he looked inquiringly at the girl as be ob
served: ‘

“You will excuse me, but I do nottexeotly
see the force of that speech. Why is it odd that
I should be lucky enough to he of service to you
more than any one else?”

“ Well, it seemed odd to me because I fancied
that you do not like me.”

A look of surprise appeared upon the face of
the s ort.

“ ow on earth did
head l" he exclaimed.

“But is it not the truth?"

“ Indeed it is not!”

“ Well, I am glad to hear you say so,” and the
‘girl smiled in the face of the sharp. y

“ But I do not understand how you could get ,‘ , ,
such an idea I" he exclaimed. '

“Oh, I think I have a good reason for it ” ,
Blanche replied. with a touch of coquetry n , ,
her manner. “ Do you remember the dance that
my 59th” gave at the hotel about three weeks
ago

“ Yes, yes! that was 'ust after my arrival
in the camp," Keene rep ied. “ I think I had
only been in Ricaree City four days when that
event took place."

“ You attended the dance, for I saw you there,
and there are so few strangers come to the camp
that it is not possible for one to escape notice,
particularly a gentleman like yourself so differ,
ent from the average miner.

“ Oh, yes, I was at the dance and enjoyed my-
self very much.”

“ It was the common belief among the ladies .
that you were the best dancer in the room l” the
girl declared, an arch look upon her face.

“ Really, I feel ﬂattered,’ the sport replied
with a bew. “ I did not know the ladies had so
good an opinion of me, but I believe I did con-
trive to get along as well as auy‘man in the
room. You see, when I was a youngster in the
East I went to dancing school, and as I grew 11
in a little manufacturing town in New Englsn .’ .
where there were plenty of factory he nds, both ‘
male and female. and there were two or three
dances a week all through winter, I had plenty
of o ortunities for ractice.”

“ es, we girls a1 agreed that you were by .
far the best dancer present, and as the gentle— ‘
men pronounced me to be the best lad dancer,

I suppose you can understand that I elt 'usta~
little vexed that you never asked me to ance
with on Once during the whole evening." ‘
‘* “ ell, now, really, I believe you ave got
me in a corner,” Keene remarked, smiling.
“ And I feel ﬂattered to think that you noticed -
me at all.”

“I thought that it was odd that you did not
ask me to dance and, considering the circum- r
stances under w ich we have come i: ether
now, I do not mind making a candid con ession , ’
that I kept three or four dances 0 n on myrlist
so I would be able to give some 0 them to you,”
Blanche said, a slight blush coloring her cheeks
and forehead. ‘ , "

“‘ Is it possible?" \ ‘

" Yes, it is the truth i” the girl declared,‘getr
ting alittle confused under the earnest as of ~
the sport. “ Of course, I am acting a litt e fool-
ishly in making ‘such a confession, and if you
had not saved my life I would not have done it.

It is the old story though of pride havlnf a folk"

I thought I was as attractive as any gir in the , ‘
room, so I never dreamed that on would, not
want to dance with me, and w an the dance
ended, without my being gratiﬁed, I did reall .
feel vexed, I assure you, and the only reason "
could assume was that you had‘taken a dislike ,
to me. People do take odd likes and dislikes‘, you
know sometime. and without reason.” ‘

“ h, yes, that sthe truth oftentimes, but it is. .
not true in this case, 1 assure you,” the sport re-
plied. “ And since confemions are in orderI
may as well make a clean breast of it and tell
you ’why it was that I didvnot seek to dance with
you. ‘ ‘ ,

‘f I do not mind admitting that I am extiemesz v
ly curious about the matter,” the girl declared.
“To be curious is Good the attributes of my
sex, you know.” ' " .

“Oh, yes, I know thatis the common suppo.
sitiOu, but whether it is correct or not is more:
than I should care to undertake to decide,” Keene
remarked. " But I will explain the matter.” 

And he sat down upon a rock, a yard from
the one upon which'B ancbe was seated. . .

“ I should like to have you. because I will ad- ' ;
wit that my foolish vanity was dreadfully e
Wounded,” the girl observed, frankly. I t

“A few words will enable on to understand ‘
all about it,” the sport repli , w‘ '

CHAPTER VII. , l
7 , v m sroa-r’s srorrr. , l .‘ i {f
KEEN! hesitated for a f _ moments beforehe
he. as though he was a,‘ ittle in doubters, to
t ebestway reproceed. ;, m
to be. nits

you get that idea in your

 
»

   
~ “ This is not gain l0 sag.
tar as I in: ,  {fie said, Effect. 1" Apd, I am,
ail-amt!) t are made a. rath r, promise.”

2,1. QW’WHW

8

Old Benzine.

 
the girl exclaimed in wonder. “ But you need ‘ the dance took place, only a few days after my

not speak, I will be satisfied with your aSsur-
ance that it was not on account of any dislike
you took to me that you neglected to‘ ask me to
dance" _

“ Oh, no, I will go ahead, for since the affair
has made a bad impression on your mind it 15
better that you should know the facts in the
case,” Keene remarked.

“ Just as you please, of course; I will not
deny that I am curious to learn all about it, but
il‘ it is at all unpleasant for you to speak I would
much rather you would not,” Blanche observed,
earnestly.

"I will explain, as long as I have become (in-
tangled in the subject," the sport replied. “ All
the trouble is that I mu afraid I shall not bcablo
to make a very good showing for myself, and
when a man relates a yarn in which he is the
center ligure lie generally tries to make himself
out as big a hero :is he can.”

“ Oh, yes, I can understand that, and is it not
natural too?” the girl excluiuiel.

“ Well, don’t judge mo too harshly, and you
shall have the plain, round, uiivarnished truth,"
the s )ort declared.

“ lthough I have not the least idea of what
your story is going to be, yet I am not afraid to
declare in udvance that I feel confident my judg-
ment will be a favorable one.”

" Listen and then decide. As I said before, at
the time the dance was given I was a new-comer
in the camp, and, like the most of the men who
have located in this valley, I came here to avoid
pursuit, being a fugitive from the law.

“ Like :1 good many other young men in the
East I fancied the old States wore, overcrowded
and I came out to the boundless West to grow up
with the country, but being a clerk and not a
mechanic, I soon made the discovery that there
wasn’t uny room in the West for me, big and
boundless as it was.

“ Necessity is the mother of invention! I could
not find anything to do, yet had no inclination
to starve, and then, just by accident, I made the
discovery that I could turn nfy skill as a card-
pluyer to account.

“ The harmless amusement in which I had been
expert ever since my boyhood’s days, suddenly
developed intoa trade by means of which I could
live, and I must admit that my morality had got
to so low on ebb that I did not hesitate in the
least in taking up the life of a card-sharp.”

“ Yes, I fully understand how such a thin
could he,” Blanche remarked, thoughtfully. “
too came from the East, and I know how the men
who gain their living playing cards are regard-
ed there, but in the \Vest here it is altogether
different. Almost everybody seems to play
cards and it is done openly, and few appear to
see anything wrong in the practice.”

“ Oh, yes, a man can be a gambler out here,
and yet be regarded as a decent member of so-
ciety, so different from the East where he is re-
garded as a social outcast.”

“ Yes, it is strange.”

"' Well, in following the life of a sport there
came a time when I became involved in a.
difﬁculty.” Keene continued. “ I do not think
I was to blame, but in a case of this kind each
man is apt to believe that he is in the right and
his opponent in the wrong.”

The girl nodded assent. She was following
the story with the deepest interest.

“ I believed at the time that it was either my
opponent's life or mine—I believe so still, and
consider that though I was the victorin the ﬁght
I was justiﬁed in defending myself.”

“ It is the unwritten law of the West!" the
girl asserted. “ I have been out here long
enough to understand that.”

“ As it happened I was a new-comer—a stran-
ger, in the town where the trouble happened,
while my antagonist was an old resident with
lots of relatives and troops of friends, 80, al-
though there was no allegation made that the
ﬁght was not conducted in the fairest and
squarest manner, yet I was hunted like a wild
beast, and even the ofﬁcers of the law were
pressed into service to run me down.”

“It was downright persecution!” Blanche de-
clared, indignantly.

“ Well, considering the circumstances of the
case I don’t think that word is a bit too strong!”
Keene declared.

“ Under these conditions I came to Ricaree
City. I had heard that this was a camp of
refuge, and that no sheriff, or other ofﬁcer,
would be allowed to disturb any man who was
lucky enough to gain the shelter of the town.”

“ Yes, I believe it is a boast of the men in the
camp that no ofﬁcer dares to attempt to make
an arrest in the valley, no matter what the fugi-
tive may have done,” the girl observed, a trou-
bled look upon her fair face.

“‘The reputation of the town was what in
duced me to turn my ﬂying fOntsteps in this
direction,” Keene continued. “ But even after
I reached the camp and found that it wusindeed
asauctuary of refuge, I did not feel perfectly
secure, for there was the chance that private
vengeance might overtake me, even if I was safe
from the ofﬁcers of the law.”

“ Yes, that is true—there was danger of that,"
Blanche remarked.

“ I feared so, and therefore at the time that

/

 
arrival in the town, remember, I was apprehen-
sive of danger—anxious to make friends who
might aid me if I was attacked, and extremely
desirous of not provoking enmity. You see I
am speaking with extreme frankness, and show-
ing you that I was calculating the chances as
closely as the greatest coward that ever lived.”

“ Oh, no; I do not look at it in that light at
all!” Blanche declared, immediately, “ You
were acting with caution, and because a. man is
cautious it is not to bo said that he is not brave."

“ Wait a little while and you may change
your mind in regard to this one particular man
whose story I am telling,” the sport remarked,
with a quiet smile.

“ Ah, now you are trying to prejudice me in
advance, and that is not strictly fair," the girl
(lcclured.

“ All right! I will go on with my tale, and
omit comments,” Keene remarked.

“ Things were in this condition with me when
I went to the dance where I saw you forthe first
time. Now I am not trying to ﬂatter you when
I say that in my humble opinion there was not
another lady in the room who could be compared
with you at all.”

“ Oh, my goodness! if that isn’t ﬂattery, what
do you call it?” Blanche exclaimed.

“ The truth 1” the sport replied, without a mo-
ment’s hesitation.

“ Well, I guess I had better keep quiet; you are
altogether too quick for me,” the girl observed,
deniurcly.

“ The ﬁrst acquaintance I made in the town
was Dave Ginger—Ginger Blue, as they all call
him—and us he had a spare room in his cabin I
took up my quarters with him, as he offered to
board me until I should secure a place of my
own, and with Ginger and his sister, Sally, I
came to the dance.”

“Yes, I noticed that you danced more with
Sally Ginger than you did with any of the
-e t ‘l

s .

“ “roll, I couldn’t very well help myself with-
out being absolutely rude,” the sport remarked
with a grimuce. “ She gave me to understand
that she was having a. splendid time, and as-
cribed it all to the fact that she could dance so
much better with me than she could with any of
the rest.”

“ ‘Vell, Sally is noto. bad kind of a girl, if she
has red hair and a temper to match,” Miss Val-
entine observed in a reﬂective wav. “ I have
not anything against her. although I know very
well that she does not like me. She was sup‘
posed to be the belle of the town before 1 came,
and because the men pay me attention she doesn’t
like it. She is one of the jealous kind who can-
not brook a rival near her throne.”

“ She did not say anything against you to me,”
the sport observed.

“Oh, no, she is a cunning girl!” Blanche de-
clared with a scoriiful look. “ One of the kind
who is all smiles to your face, but never misses
the chance to give you a sly dig in the back.”

“ Naturally I inquired of her who you were
and she told me all about you. At the time you
were in the company of this rancher, Gilbert
Featherstone, the Cowboy Dude, as they call
him.

“ Yes, I remember.”

“Miss Ginger told me all the particulars in
regard to Featherstone and yourself,” the sport
continued.

Blanche looked astonished.

“ All the particulars in regard to him and my-
self 1” she exclaimed.

H XVes.”

“ I do not understand‘what there was to tell.”

It was now Keane’s turn to look surprised.

“Why, are you not engaged to be married to
Mr. Featherstone?’

“ Indeed I am not!” the girl declared, a bright
blush covering her face.

“ Well, that is strange! I am surprised to
hear you say that, for it is the general opinion
that such is the fact."

“I do not understand it at all l” Blanche de~
clared, quite indignantly. “ There is no foun-
dation at all for the report, excepting that he is
a great friend of my father, so comes often to
the hotel, and has paid me a great deal of atten-
tion; but there is no engagement between us,
and if he and my father were not such friends,
I would not be seen with him as much as I am;
but my father is under great obligations to Mr.
Featherstone. It was his money that started
my father in business here, and he really owns
the hotel and all within it, and so, for my
father’s sake, I force myself to be polite to the
man. although there is something about him
that I do not like at all."

“ Ohol this is an entirely different story to
tilie odne that Miss Sally told me i” the sport de-
c are .

" Well, eople will talk, and the gossips here

in this litt 9 camp are every bit as bad as in the .

Eastern villages,” Miss Valentine declared, evi-
dently very much annoyed.

“ Her story was that you and the Cowboy
Dude were very much in love with each other,
and he was so jenlons that he could not bear to
see you speak to any other man.”

“What a ridiculous idea," the girl declared,
her face again ﬂaming scarlet.

 
“ She related two or three stories of how the
Cowboy Dude had continued to pick quarrels.
with men who had presumed to ay you atten-
tion, Keene remarked. “And I, having no rea-
son to suppose that the tales were not true,
made up my mind that it would be 'ust as well
for me if I steered clear of giving eatherstone
any chance to cause me trouble, and that is
where I acted so prudently as to give rise to the
inspicion that I was not as brave as I might

c. ’

“Oh, no, I do not see that that conclusion
follows at all," the girl declared. “You were
in this valley under peculiar circumstances, and.
it would have been very foolish indeed for you
to have acted in such a way as to make an
enemy of a man like Gilbert Featherstone, for
lie, with his cowboys, would be a dangerous
enemy, indeed.‘7

“ That was the way I calculated at the time,”
Keene remarked. “I was a stranger and
wanted to be certain of my ground before I
proceeded. So, on the night of the dance I did
not seek to make your acquaintance, nor have I
sought to since that time, for as I believed that
you were promised to another man, I would not
feel like paying you attentions, even if I “as
impressed with the belief that there wasn’t
another girl in the camp who could compare
with you.”

“That is a very delicate bit of ﬂattery in-
deed!” Blanche exclaimed with a charniin
smile. “But now that you know the truth
hope you will not allow this Cowboy Dude to
frighten you away.”

“Oh, no! I am no longer a stranger in the
camp, and I have no more fear of Featherstone
than I have of any other man, notwithstanding
his cowboys !” the sport declared. “I prize
your friendship and you may rest assured I up-

reciate the favor that fortune has given me.
gut you must not let your gratitude run away
with you.” And Keane’s voice and manner he-
came sober. “You must bear in mind what I
um—a card-sharp with the stain of blood upon
my hands—amnn who has been hunted like a
wolf!”

“ Yes, hunted by a set of merciless cowards,
no one of whom would dare to face you singly!”
the girl declared with ﬁery indignation. “If
you had a fair trial no doubt you would go
free."

“ Well, yes, I think I would, for  most surely
acted stictl in self-defense, and did not strike
until my li e was assailed.”

“ People who live in glass houses mustn’t
throw stones,” the girl said, rising, and the
sharp followed her example. “If you knew the
history of my father you would not think that I
coudescended in being glad of your friendship.
But come! help me catch my horse so I can re.
turn to the camp.”

This task was soon performed, for the pony
was grazing down the gulch, then, with a warm
clasp of hands, the two parted.

Blanche rode toward the town while Keene
lproceeded to strip the skin from the mountain
ion.

CHAPTER VIII.
A STORMY INTERVIEW.

WHILE the sport was occupied in this task,
his mind was full of the beautiful girl who it
was plainly evident, had taken a most decided
fancy to him.

“ Gratitude is akin to love, they say,” he mur-
mured, “ and in this case it surely seems'to be
so. There isn’t much doubt that I_ saved the
girl’s life for this ugly beast certainly would
have ma e mince-meat out of her if my riﬂe-
ball had not laid him low.

“ She is a beautiful girl, and seems to be as
good as she is beautifu , and as there seems to
baa chance for me, ,why should I notimproveitl

“I am nothing but a card-sharp now, it is
true, but I‘have saved a little money, enough to
start me in some decent business, and if I am
lucky enough to win the girl, I can ﬁnd plenty
of_ laces down in the Southwest where there
wil not he one chance in a million of my ene-
mies. ﬁnding me until I have made a name and
position so that I will be able to ﬁght them suc—
cessfully, I would be a fool indeed if I did not
seek to improve this favorable chance which
fortune has thrown in my way,

” comforted and stimulated by this girl’s love,
there is an opportunity to build up a new life—
to become another kind of a man entirely, and
I Will be hanged if I don’t go in for it!”

The sport’s reﬂections were interrupted at
this point. He happened, just by accident, to
glance up the gulch, and caught Sight of two
men advancing toward him. '

He i'eco 'nized the pair immediately, and a
low whist e indicative of astonishment escaped
from his lips. . ,

The Cowboy Dude and his right-hand man,
Black Tom Murphy, by all that is wonderfull‘
he exclaimed.

Both of them had shot-guns, and it looked as
if they had been on a shooting excursion.

“ Now, I think I would be safe in betting big
odds that they saw me in conversation with the
girl, for it hhs only been a minute or two since
she left, and they must have been within sight
at the time.

 
W. W4q.gz~:;; _- r. _,

 
,, Maw...‘ -

Old 3......

 
is so
, asked.

 
“ Maybe there is going to be a little trouble,
so it will be well for me to be repared. There
is nothing like going into a ht with a good
ready on.”

Then be bent over the dead beast again, turn-
ing around sideways so as to conceal his motions
and raised the hammer of both hisrevolvers.

“ Now then, if there is going to be music in
the air will be ready to start in at the ﬁrst
toot of the trumpet,” he observed.

Though apparently busy with his task of skin-
nin g the mountain lion yet the sport kept a
wnrv eye upon the approaching men.

"‘ In my opinion there is neither one of them
too good to take a snap-shot at me when they
thought I was off my guard,” the sport mutter-
Gil-

But it was not Keane’s game though to allow
the others to suspect that he thought they had
come to make trouble, and so when they got with-
ing ﬁfty bet he stood up and nodded to them in
the most friendly manner.

The pair returned the salutation in such a way
that it was plain to the sport they did not feel
in a good humor toward him.

“ I reckon that there is going to be trouble,”
Keene muttered, “ and maybe it is lucky that I
am all ready for it.”

“ Big game!” the Cowboy Dudo remarked as
he came to a halt a yard or two from the body
of the beast.

“ Yes, I did not reckon to get anything of this
sort when I started out,“ the 'sport replied. “I
was after antelopes.” ' I

“ And you was not particular, I suppose, if

on ran across [any other kind of adeai-l” Black
K‘om Murphy exclaimed with a hoarse laugh.

The sport pretended not to understand the in-
sinuntion.

“ Oh, well, when a man is out on a hunting
trip he must be content with whatever game for-
tune sends him,” Keene replied.

“That was Miss Valentine you were talking
with—wasn‘t it?” the rancher demanded in a
rather ugly way.

“ Yes, it was, ’ Keene replied, quietly, but there
was a dangerous glitter in his dark eyes.

“I suppose she was admiring your skill as a
hunter? the Cowboy Dude remarked with a

sneer.

“ Well she had good reason to admire it,” the
sport replied. '

“ How so?” the rancher inquired.

“ Why, she was corraled by this cat, and if I
had not happened to be in the nei hborhood the
chances are that the beast would ave» made a.
meal of her.” ,

The rancher and his man looked at each other
in surprise, this statement being entirely unex-

peﬁwd' is
Is that sci the Cowboy Dude observed,
slowly. ‘ , _

“ Oh, yes! I am’ givmg it to you straight,” the
sport declared.

He did not hesitate to allow the fact to become
known, for he felt sure that the girl would tell
the story of her rescue as soon as she got to the
camp, and there was no use of his attempting to
keep the matter secret.

‘-‘ Wal, that is a. bigrfeather in your cap, now,
I reckon!” Black om Murphy exclaimed.
“'Yog kin sport ’rouod the camp now as a

am.

“Oh, well, I don’t know about that,” Keene
replied, carelessly. “ I don’t know as it is a big
thing for a man to kill one of these brutes, par-
ticularly when he ets a cod, fair chance to
kiggc’k one over. as did, Without running any
r .

“ I do not doubt that the girl thinks that you
are a hero!” the Cowboy Dude exclaimed, with
adscided sneer. “And I must say that I am
sorry the thing occurred as it did.”

The sport elected to be astonished at this dec-
laration. , a

“ Well, now, I do not understand that!” he
exclaimed. “ I don’tsee what posaible diﬂerence
it can make to you.” . ' ‘
~ “ The only thing about the affair is that this
accident may impress Miss Valentine with the
idea that you have a sort of claim on her grati-
tude, and as she is a very sweet-tempered girl,
always anxious to do what is right, this thing
may annoy her a. little,” the rancher said. _ i

‘ I do not see how that can be, and even If it
what is it to you, anyway?” the sport

“ The lady is oing to be my wife!” the Cow-
boy Dude excla med, haughtily.

“Oh, is she?” Keene asked, 1u_
“Yea, sir, she isl”, . , ,
“That reminds me of a story,” the sport ob-
served, in a reﬂectivem.

“A. stor l” exclai Featherstone, while
Black Tom urphy stared in surprise.
“Yes, and itseems to me to ﬁt nicely into
this case.” ,
“ Well, don’t see how that is,” the rancher

his cool way.

  
observ .- . . , i .

“ Listen to the yarnethere was once "a Widow.
Green, a'very s‘mg'n't, middle-aged woman. noted
[for her business ability, with a ten year old boy,.
for whom she was anxious toast another, father,
undone day‘ahe said to the little fellow: ‘ My

 
when his word is doubted!” the rancher ex-

 
‘as you are, old enough to understand I so
ﬁlmywwen-tell you that I amghing

.0

   
a

the nurse» use, as

be married to Doctor Jones.’ ‘ Bully for you,
mgther!’ the boy cried. ‘ Does the doctor know
it ‘

The face of the Cowboy Dude grow black as e
thundercloud, while Black Tom Murphy could
not help grinning, having all the average West-
erner’s appreciation for a good story.

“ I don't see what this yarn of yours has got
to do with my engagement to marry Miss Valen-
tine!" Featherstone exclaimed, roughly.

3‘ Why, it is like a patent medicine, the merit
lies in the a plication!” Keene replied, with u.
scornful smi e on his bold and handsome fea- ‘
tures.

“ You say that you are going to marry Miss
Valentine, and like the boy i cry, bully for you!
does the young lady know it?"

The rancher could restrain his wrath no longer.

“ Y( )1]. miserable gambler! do you dare to doubt
my word?" he criod,hringing his gun to a present,
with his hand on the trigger, a movement which
Murphy immediately imitated.

Keene had his revolver out in a ﬂash and
“covered” both men.

“Go slow I" he continued, “don’t attempt to
drop the muzle of those guns an inch lower or
I will bore a hole apiece in the pair of you!”

It did not take the Cowboy Dude and Black
Tom Murphy many seconds to discover the all
the advantages of the situation were wit the
spur . ,

Before they could brlng their guns to the level
so as to be able to ﬁre at him, he could certainly
discharge half a dozen shots, and the chances
were a thousaan to one that the first two balls
thatleft the muzzles of his revolvers would be
certain to put them in such a condition that they
would not feel inclined to do an more ﬁghting.

The sharp had “ got the drop’ on them.

Only a moment did the two hesitate, and then
the Cowboy Dude threw hisgun again into the
hollow of his arm, and Black Tom Murphy fol-
lowed his example.

“ Maybe I am a little hasty in this matter,”
the rancher observed, sulkily. '

“ Oh, yes, there isn’t any doubt of it,” the
sharp responded, in a pleasant way, just as if
this little performance that they were going
through was n. commonplace, every-day affair,
and, as he spoke, he returned his pistols to their
holsters. ,.

“It is natural for a man to become angry

claimed.

f‘ Oh, yes, I can understand that,” Keene re-
plied. “ But have you not made some ‘ mistake
about the matter? Does Miss Valentine under-
stand that she is engaged to be married to you?
I should judge that she did not, for during the
brief conversation that We held together she cer-
tainly gave me to understand that she was not
engaged to any one.”

“ erhaps you think that there is a chance for
you!” Featherstone exclaimed, savage!" .

“ Well, if the lady is free to choose don't see
why I shouldn’t stand as good a chance as any
man i” the sport declared.

“She is oing to be my wife!” the rancher
declared. f It is all arranged. Her father and
I have settled .the altar, and if you interfere
you certainly Will get yourself into trouble.”

“ 0h,‘you have settled it with her father,”
Keene remarked, in a reﬂective way, as though
he was meditating over the affair. “ Well, that,
may bef'our way of doing business, but it is not
mine. should secure the girl’s consent before
I bothered with the old mam-it isn’t the father
that you are going to marry, you know i”

‘ The Cowbo Dude was greatly irritated by
this reply an from the look that came over his
face it seemed as if he meditated making an at-
tack upon the frank speaker, but upon reﬂec-
tion, he thought better of it, for despite his au-
ger. he had Sense enough to comprehend that if

e brought‘on acontlict now the chances were
that he would get the worst of it, and as the
rancher was a shrewd calculator he was not the
man to 0 into a ﬁght when the chances were all,
against um. ‘

“ I have given you fair warning about this,
matter,” he said. _“ And if you choose to cross
my path you will have. to take the conse-
quences” '

“Oh, that is all right. I am not the man to
shirk responsibilities,” the sharp replied.

“ You have been warned!” the rancher de-
clared, threateningly, and then he and Black
Tom Murphy departed, going down the gulch
toward the tawn.

Keene kept'his eyes on‘the pair until they dis-
appeared hehind the swells of the rolling prairie,
for he did not trust them. .

, , CHAPTER IX. 2 ‘ .
. ». AN marlin APPEARANCE. , ,-
Wimu Keene became satisﬁed that the pair.
had indeed gone, he resumed his task of to g
of! the skin of the mountain lion. ‘ ' , r
,. ‘.‘I do now-take. much stock in either 0! the
pair,” he'soliloquized. '“ Irony be mistaken in
mysurrmse,..but itis’ my impression. that they
are a couple of rascals, a

\

 
of anything out of the way about them.

though. I never heard gin

gone up the gulch, where the broken and irregu—
lar country would have favored such a thing, I
would have been pretty certain that that was
the game they wanted to play, but as the , went
in the opposite direction, where it is all n, so
there isn't any chance to try a trick of the kind,
I reckon there isn’t much doubt that they are
gone for good."

In a few minutes he had the skin off then he
rolled it into a compact bundle and  it up so
:t could be transported easily. ,

Just as he completed this job he heard a rust-
ling in the bushes, ﬁfty feet or so to the right,
in the direction of the foot-bills.

Keene grasped his riﬂe, for the noise seemed
to indicate that big game was coming.

“ Hold on! don’t short!" cried a hoarse voice . .
asthe sport drew the riﬂe up to his shoulder. » 1
(and then into view came the burly ﬁgure of
jovial bummer, Joe Bowers.

“ 01:0! it is you, is it?” Keene exclaimed.

“ You kin bet yer bottom dollar on that and you
will be safe to keno, every time!" the other un-
nounccd as, be advanced, a huge grin.on his
broad face.

The sport laughed; there was something about
the fat stranger that he liked.

“ Yes, sir-eel” the veteran continued. “ I am
all hyer, large as life, and twice as natural."

“ Well, this is hits a sur mse-parryl" the ,A :
sharp observed. “ ow long ave you been in "4
this neighborhood?” ‘ w * 

“Oh, I jest come aleetle while ago. I have
been doing a leetle pmspecting to see if I
coilildn't strike some payodirt up in this hyer _,
gu ch. ’

“ What success?"

“ Nury hit! Hain‘t struck ‘color ’ once."

“That is bad; but, I say, do you generally
prosgect without tools?” ‘

“ h, I am heeled for business,” and from the
back of his belt he produced a three- und
mason’s hammer. “This hyer tool will 0 the
business jest as 'well as though I carted a hull
kit around with me.”

“Yes, I see.” ,

“ Say, you come near gitting into a little fuse
with them cowboy chap, didn't ye?” Bowers
remarked. ‘

“0b, were you in the neighborhood at the,
time?” asked Keene in surprise. ‘ r

“ Yes, I was to the fore; you see, I came down
the gulch right arter them.”

And when the veteran made this announce-V
meat the suspicion suddenly ﬂashed upon the .
sport that the bumper had ' been playing the V
spy upon the Cowboy Dude ~ and lack Tom
Murphy, although is could not for the life of
him imagine why the man should want to do
such a thing. , .

nesw‘ r thlhh‘

es, was rospecm up 9 guc w on
they passed, and) I foller on down arter them;
I wasn’t twent feet away from the galoota
when they caug t sight of, you and the gal, but.
as I was a-roosting in a 0!: of bushes, where
I had been taking a. snooze, they didn’t see me,
and I had a chance to hear what they said.” ‘

“I imagine that this Featherstone was 'not‘
glossed when he saw me talking with Mi.

alentiue,” the sport observed. ‘ * V

“Pardbyou are ri ht there, for a thousand
dollars,” as Bowers eclared. - -

“,That is what I thought.” ‘ ‘ i , '

“ Oh, you kin bet that he rip ed and tore—he
used cuss-words_ enough to sh ngle a barn, and
he allowed that it you didn’t keep away from
that l"politicoat, he would have yer scalp ,l'or ,
sure '

“ It is all right so far, though,” Keene re-7
plied, with a. lau h. V ‘ -

“You bet! ou see you were too quick for
him, and arter you got the drop on the pair,
they know too much to attempt to go on.” -

‘ Oh, I had them foul," the sport declared.”

“That is so, you bet!” the bummer rejoined."
“ And I tell you it jest joyed my soul to see you

at it to’em in the way you did. Yes, am:
it was as much as I could do to keep from haw-v;
hawin right opt!” ‘v

“ ell, you see I saw them coming,

had an idea that t ,

 
and as 1'
he meant mischie I. was all?
prepared for them,” eene observed. v z
I “ Mighty satrapl you did the job up primal”
the veteran declared. “ I reckoned that the pair
would try to pick a fuss with you, if they could,
git a chanceto jump in and catch you off yaw,
guard and as I wasn’t sure that you were all,
primed and loaded for ‘em, I jest sneaked along.
so as to git within shooting-distancerreckons
inﬁ."you know, to take a hand lathe tun-m
so . i ' '

The sharp look surprised at this statement. ,
“Well, now, I am a little astonished to hear
you say that,.for I did not take you to ~
warrior,” Keene remarked.
, “ By hockey !_ you are ’bout right,” JoeBoweur
answered with a knowing grin. “launches:
the kind of men whose legs‘bave been wowelt
brought up to “see the body obmed,and»w,hsn V
conclude that there is a prospectors rem};
era] 31 do out as gracefully as " a.” x: a
‘g“We , ithont- lug any impact to

 
, I," I‘didﬁnot know butvthey m‘ an tb‘edod '
of pretending to mart, and thlegu onstage heck fg

 
: you, that is (behind of man that I should take.
"you to beﬂhesportobserved. : 
‘ - ,’ iwhen yousay that you 

    
10

Old Benzine.

 
plumb-center, every time i” the veteran de-
clared. “ And in this little fandango, although
I calculated to take an active part, yet I did not
reckon to show myself. 1 was snuggled down
in the bushes out yonder, and it was my idee to
take a crack at the ﬁrst man of the pair who
seemed likely to git the drop on you. Oh, I had
my tool all ready; you kiiibethigh on that,”qu
in proof of this the veteran drew from a hiding—
place in the bosom of his parti-colored ﬂannel
shirt a revolver, navy size, and a skeleton iron
frame so arranged as to be attached to the
pistol, and thus transform it into a gun.

” When I struck this hyer camp, on know, I
was stripped clean to the bqu 0 everything
’cept these hyer old rugs, and the man who
travels in a country like this without being
heeled with a good shooting-iron, is at a terri-
ble disadvantage, now I will tell yerl" the vet-
eran declared.

“Well, that is certainly correct,” the sport
remarked.

“ You kin bet all the rocks you kin scare up in
this world that it is 1” Joe Bowers declared.
” So, arter I made a leetle rifﬁe in a poker
game, which I was able to git into, thanks to the
noble ducats which you gave me, me lord duke,
I made a. trade with Cohen, the Jew, and got
this hyer pop-gun, and I must say that I don’t
think I ever had a weapon which suited nie bet-
ter. You see this here stock attachment is jest
what I want. 1 am a tolerable good shot—that
is, I used to be, but I have got so blamed ner-
Vuus of late years—too much benzine h‘isting, I
reckon—that I can‘t depend on myself when it
comes to pistol practice, but with this hyer lee-
tle attachment an: a boss, I tell yer! 1 had
the gun resting on a rock, and I would have
everlastingly bored one of them cowboy chaps
if I see’d that they were going to get the drop on
you!

“ Well, I am very much obliged I am sure!”
Keene declared. “ I had no idea. that I had a
friend near at hand.”

“Oh, it would have been a regllar surprise
party!" the veteran declared. “ And I am
almost sorry that I didn’t get the chance to
drill one of em!

“You see, pard, I am jest as I told you, all
wool, a are wide and you are safe to tie to me
every me l” the bummer continued. “ You
picked me up, and put me on my legs when I
was ﬂat broke, though I was a stran er to you,
and you kin bet yer bottom dollar t lat I am
going in to help you every time I git the chance,
and that is the kind of a‘ hairpin am!”

“ Well, it is rather strange that you should
come so near having an opportunity to be of as-
sistance to me and so soon too,” the sport ob-
served. reﬂectively.

“ Oh, thar’s a heap of truth in the words of
the Gospel sharp, you know, 'bout, ‘ casting
your bread upon the waters,’ ” the veteran ob-
served; “1 have seen that air thing come true
more times than I have got ﬁngers and toes!”

“ Yes, I believe that there is a good deal of
truth in it.”

“ But I say, pard, I want to ask ,your opinion
’bout a leetle picnic that I got into the ﬁrst
night that I slept in this hyer cam of Ricaree,”
Joe Bowers remarked. And then 6 gave a full
account of his adventure with the masked men.

As Keene listened to the tale a look of aston-
ishment appeared upon his face.

“ What do you think of it, high and mighty
satra l” J 09 Bowers asked.

“ ell, I don’t understand it at all,” the sport
replied.

‘ Does this hyer gang hold up every man that
comes into the towu in the way the did me?”

“No, not to my knowled e! 0le certainly
they did not trouble me, an I never heard of
anybody ever being troubled."

“ Of course they warned me not to say any-
thing, and I havenl’t, for I wanted time to look
around and see how the old thing was working
before I gave the snap away," Joe Bowers said.

“ You acted prudently, for, under the circum-
stances, it was not possible for you to tell any-
thing about the masked men, and if you had
spoken to any one about the matter, the very
party to whom you related the story might be
one of the men who visited you,” the sport re-
marked. '

“ That is just what I reckoned, and that was
the reason that I held in tongue,” the bummer
replied with a satisﬁed c uckle. “ Oh, I wasn’t
born yesterda l”

“ No, I shou cl imagine not, and you certainly
look as if you had cut your eye-teeth!”

‘ “ Oh, I have! and a mighty long time agoi
But I say, me royal lord this hyer masked man
business is a reg’lar puzzle to me.”

“ So it is to me.”

“ From the way the talk, you know, I got the
idea that it was a reg’ ar thing—that it was a put
up job to interview every stranger who came to
the camp so as to be able to ﬁnd out just who
and what he was,” J 09 Bowers explained.

“ Well, that certainly seemed to be their ob-
ject, but they certainly don’t go for eve man
who comes into the camp in this way,” eene
declared. “ The did not trouble me nor did I
ever hear of the r interviewing an body, for a
thing of this kind would be sure to eak out if it
was tried on many man, no matter how strong

 
the threats were that there would be trouble if
the witness gave the thing away.”

“ Oh, yes, you are right about that, and no
mistake!” the veteran declared. “ ’Tain’t in hu-
man nature for the common run of men to keep
their mouths closed ’bout a thing of this sort,
’ticnlarly if the masked galoots touched ’em for
their wealth.” '

“ W'ell, I never heard a word from an one in
regard to being troubled l" the sport dec tired.

“ Say, pard, it really looksas if this hyer thing
was gotten up on purpose to go for me, don’t it!”
Joe Bowers said, reﬂectively.

“It does indeed.”

“And the landlord galoot, this hyer big John-
nie Valentine, he war kind, wasn’t he, in offer-
ing me the old stable to roost iii, so as to save
me from having to pay for a place somewhere?”
the veteran questioned, a quizzical look upon his
face.

“ Well, I don’t know about that,” Keene replied,
thoughtfully, “ I don’t want to say too much
against Valentine, you know, for he is the father
of this young lady, in whom I take a decided in-
terest, and it would not be wise for me to incur
the enmity of the old man; but I must say it
seems to me that Valentine offered you the place
so as to have you where the masked fellows would
be able to get at you without any trouble.”

Joe Bowers made a grimace and winked in a
knowing way.

“ I reckon that you are right ’bout his royal
nibsl” the bummer declared. “ That was his
leetle game, and you can bet high on it; I did
not fall into no trap, neither, for I suspected he
was up to something of the kind when he made
the offer. Mebhe you have heered the old yarn
’bout keeping yer eyes skinned for the Greeks
bearing gifts?"

“ Yes, I remember, although my classical
knowledge is decidedly misty.”

“ Well, me lord duke, them ancient sharps
knew a thing or two ’bout human nature, if the
did live in the dark ages!” the veteran declare .

“ Well, as far as that goes, human nature to-
day is about the same as it was then,” the sport
observed.

“Oh, yes that is sol” the other admitted; “ I
s’pose the old man thought he was playing me
for a ﬂat, but he never made a bigger mistake in
his life. The moment he made the offer I smelt
a mouse; I reckoned that he was gittinlg me intoa
trap, but I waltzed into it as though had been
the blamest fool that had ever trod in shoe-
leather!”

“I suppose you had a curiosity to see what
was the game?” Keene suggested.

“ You are right, I did!”

“ Then you hadn't anything to lose, and were
not afraid of anybod making any im ortant
discoveries if you shou d be searched, an I sup-
pose you calculated, too, that if a party was
anxious to get at you he would be apt to do it,
sooner or later, and the quicker the thing was
over the‘ better.”

“ Yes, I did reckon ’bout that way, and then,
too, if anybody had a suspicion that there was
soniethin wrong ’bout me, the quicker they dis-
kivered t at there wasn’t the better it would be
for me,” J 00 Bowers observed, shrewdly.

“ Oh, yes on were right about thpt. ’

“ If you f0 lered my yarn closely mebbe you
saw that the main thing the gang was arter was
papers?”

“Yes, I understood that. They were under
the impression that you had some kind of pa-
pers concealed in your clothes."

“ And now what kind of papers would a man,
coming inter a camp of this hyer kind, be apt to
have hid away?”

“ Legal documents—warrants of arrest, or pa-

rs executed by some proper authority, show-
ing that the bearer was an ofﬁcer of the law and
had power to apprehend criminals,” replied
Keene, after thinking the matter over for a few
moments.

“ Yes, or, mobbe, instructions, advising him
how to go ahead, or containing the names of
men who were suspected,” Joe Bowers added.

“ I reckon you are getting at the truth of mat-
ters!” Keene declared. “ These three fellows
evidently thought that on were a spy. who had
come into the camp wit the intention of mak-
ing trouble for some one, and they were anxious
to find out all about the matter, so they worked
the dodge of pretending to be toll-gatherers for
the town.”

“That is the idea! And, do you know, I’ve

ot a deal of curiosity to ﬁnd out who were the

rec galoots that put up this job on me!" Joe
Bowers declared.

“ I do not doubt it. Almost any man would
be curious under like circumstances."

“ And, why in thunder did the cusses pick me
out?” the veteran exclaimed. “ What is there
’bout me to make ’em suspect that I was a spy?”

“Now, partner, you are really too much for
me, and on must ask an easier uestion,” the
sport rep ied, shaking his head. As I am un-
der a cloud myself and on the lookout for
trouble all the time, I think I would be as quick
to suspect that a stranger in the camp was a spy
as any man in the town, but such a thought in
regard to you never entered my head.

‘ I reckon that there are plenty of men in the
valley ﬁxed the same as you. are—men who

 
would be apt to be uneasy if they knew that any
sheriff, or sich like oiﬁcer, was in the town in
disgmsei"

“ Oh, yes, there are few men in the cam who
would not be uneasy, but unless the sheri had
a big force at his back—big enough to clean
out the town—he would not be able to trouble
anybody."

“ Do you s’picion any three men who would
be likely to put up a job like this hyer one play—
ed on me?” the bummer asked.

“ No, I cannot ﬁx my mind on any three in
the camp who would be apt to do such a thing.”

“But you kin bet yer pile that the landlord
knows.”

“ Yes, undoubtedly l”

“ And who are his chums, eh?” the hummer
asked. “ He would not be apt to do a thing of
this sort for unyhod but a big friend."

“ Well, as far as know, he is not on particu-
larly good terms with anybody, exceptin this
rancher, Featherstone, the Cowboy Du o, as
they call him.”

“ And a fellerlike him, with a lot of cowboys
at his back, would not have much trouble in
working a scheme of this kind?" Joe Bowers
sug ested.

“ e could do it better than any other man
that I know of in the valley.”

“Is there anything crooked ’bout his royal
nibsl” the veteran inquired.

“No, not to my knowledge. I never heard
anything said against him, but I am a new-
comer here, you know, and so I am not as well
posted as I might be.”

“It may be, you know, that he is a bad man
from ’wayback, and has got wind, some way,
that a man was coming to this camp in disguise
to make it warm for him, and he had no better
sense than to pitch upon an innocent cuss like
me!” J 06 Bowers exclaimed, iii tones full of in—
dignatiou.

“ Well that appears to be probable.”

“ I reckon he is satisﬁed now, though!” the
bummer declared, with a chuckle. “ If you are
goin to the camp I’ll give you a hand with the
bun 1e.”

“ Thanks I”

And then the two descended the gulch.

 
CHAPTER X.
A consuxxra’rxox.

LEAVING the sport and the bummer to pursue
their wa¥3to Ricaree City we will return to the
Cowboy ads and Black Tom Murphy.

After leaving the scene of the interview with
the sport there was no conversation between the
twlcxu until they got out of the gulch and into the
va ey.

The gulch was only a couple of miles from the
camp, and after the two got into the valley they
could distinguish the buildings of the town.

Featherstone was fearfully enraged at the re-
sult of his interview with the sport, and branded
over the matter with a. glocm br0w until the
open lain was reached, and icaree City ap-
peare fair before him, then his anger found
vent in words.

“ This infernal scoundrel of a gambler man-
aged to get the best of us in this encounter, but
I am willing to bet big money that he will not
come of! so successfully the next time we lock
horns l” the Cowboy Dude declared.

“We ought to have got the best of him this time,
seeing that we were two to one i” Black Tom
Murph declared. “But, you see, we did not
work t 9 thing as well as we ought to have
done. If we had managed diﬂerently he might
not have been able to have got the drop on us."

“ Yes that is true.”

“ We mi ht have crept in, you know, and rid-
dled him With shot without his knowing who it
was that peppered him.” O

“ But I wanted to have a talk with the man
ﬁrst,” the other remarked. “ Of course, he
could have been laid out in the way on suggest,
but we would have run a big risk y so doing.
To have killed the man in that way would be
nothing but an assassination.”

“Yes, but if there wasn’t any witnesses around
the deed couldn’t be brought home to us,” Black
Tom Murphy urged.

“ We were too near the camp to run the risk 1"
the rancher declared. “ It is not possible to say
whether there were any witnesses near or not;
there might be half a dozen fellows in the neigh-
borhood, whom the repOrt of the shots would
have attracted to the spot. These miners are
great bands to wander around, you know,
prospgcting, in the hopes of striking a rich
mine.

“ Yes, that is so; I did not think of that,” the
cowboy superintendent declared. The speaker
had never been noted for being a deep thinker.

“ It would not have been safe for us to have
risked it.” Featherstone declared. “And then
too, I had an idea that when this fellow found
that I meant business, he would not dare to
stand 11 a ainst me."

“We 1, reckoned that you would only waste
vour time when you set out to chin with him,”
Black Tom Murphy remarked, 'with a wise
shake of the head. ‘These sports are a t to be

retty plucky chaps. They have to , you
know, or else they couldn’t toner the busines.

l

\

- —--.a_

 
<WMMA -‘

 
, hurry about the matter, you know, for the girl .

. cowboy chuc

Old Benzine.‘

.11-

 
If a curd—sharp hadn’t got a deal of sand, he
couldn’t stand up to the rack.”

“ Yes, I know that, but I did not calculate to
meet any card-sharp in a camp of this kind that

By this time the two had reached the neigh-
borhood of the camp.

They proceeded to the hotel. When they
reached the door, Black Tom Murphy remarked

amounted to anything,” the rancher replied. lthut there was a man he wanted to see down

“But this man certainly seems to be a lad of I

metal.”

“ You bet!” cried the other. “ He stood ns oil?
in inlet-class style, and thnr is no two ways 1
about it! I reckon that if we had tried to I
climb him nrter he gi’n us the warning, that we
would both have been suited for keeps.”

“ Oh, yes, he meant business, every time. x
There was no mistake about that," Feutberstone I
observed.

“ This mountain lion accident is a denccd un—
lucky one for me, I am afraid,” he continued,
after a pause. “It has given this man a chance
to make himself solid with the girl. He saved .
her life, and she naturally will look upon him in ‘
the light of a hero."

“ Yes, it gave the sport a show to put in a big
bluff.”

“ Of course it may be possible that I am jump-
ing too hastily to a conclusion,” the Cowboy
Dude observed, thoughtfully. “ The girl will
Certainly feel grateful for the service, but when
she learns that he is nothing but a common, vul.
gar gambler. who depends on cards for a living,
I do not believe that any stronger feeling than
gratitude will enter her mind. She is an Eastern
girl, you know, and in the East a gambler is
never admitted into any decent society, but is
looked upon as an outcast.”

“ Yes, it ought to work that way, I know,” the
other observed, but in a. tone whlch plainly ex-
pressed that he had considerable doubt about the
matter. “ I reckon from whatI have Seen of her
that she has all sorts of high and mighty notions,
although both she and her old man are as poor
as kin be and depend upon whisky-selling for
a living. Still, I am one of the kind that never
counts much on women. I have seen ’em kick
over the traces so often, and do jest what they
had not ought to do, that I have come to the
opinion that they are mighty onsart’in cattle,
and a. man who knows what is what wouldn’t
risk much money on them.”

“ All you say is true enough but I don’t be-
lieve this girl will be apt to forget her eastern
trainingin ahurry,“ the rancher observed. “She
has been brought up likealady. Her mother
comes ofa big family; she became infatuated
with Valentine when she was a young girl and
ran away from home to marry him.

“ Valentine has never amounted to much. He
is one of those weak dough-like men. who has
never been very good or very bad. He can be
depended upon though’to get ridvof all the money
he can get hold of in short order.”

“ Thar’s a. heap of men of that kind u-running
’round loose i” Black Tom Murphy; observed
with a grin. ’ v

“ He never an ported his wife, and if it hadn’t ‘
been for her ric relations both of them would,
have suffered; these folks saw that Blanche
had a good education, and it was expected that
she would come in for a deal of money some
day, and so she would if i the last one of her
mother’ family hadn’t gone into a big specu-
lation which ruined him completely.

“ Just about that time the girl's mother died
and Valentine got into a scrape so that he had
to out and run. ‘

“ He came out West here and lived from
hand-to-mouth until I met him in Helena. and
suggested to him to start his hotel here. I was
after the girl. you know, and I thou ht that if
I got her up in this outset-way place would be
sure to get- her.” I i

“ That was‘ a. mighty cunning calculation,”
the other remarked.

“Yes, and I reckoned I had a sure thi of it
until today. I haven’t been in any pa icular

has acted a little shy, but as I felt certain that

everything would be all right in the end, 1I

didn’t feel at all anxious.” ‘ .
.“But on don‘t feel so certain ’bout ithiest

now!" lack Tom Murphy exclaimed .w h’a
hoarse chuckle. ‘

“ That is a fact i” I ‘

“ You did not calculate on this sharp coming
into the me?" ,

“No, did not.” 

“ Nor that a beast of a. mountain cat might
make a heapl of mischief,” and again the big

“ Well, I shall not lose anymore timel” the
rancher declared, V i
'- " Going right in to win, eh?" ' ‘

“Yes thetds my gamenow. The old man
"knows t at I expect to get the girl, and I pro-
posennow to settle the matter as quickly as I
xcanl ‘ , , ‘

“ Sharp or no sharp. hey?" . , ‘

The brows or the Cowboy Dude grew dark. V

“If he interferes with me in this matter‘he
‘hod better look out for himself ll' the rancher de-

xléou glgry and make it warm for bimi’l
ou , , I .
“Wei, I reckon you kin do it without any

 
trouble it'you get u. good rudyoul”thoothor

my

 
the street and he would go and’ have a talk with
him while Featherstone was in the hotel.

“ All right, I reckon to stop here for an hour
or so,” the Cowboy Dude obSorved.

“I will be back inside of an hour,” the other
remnrked as be deported.

Featherstone entered the saloon. As it hap-
pened there were no customers in the place.
The landlord sat by the end of the bar smoking.

The Cowboy Dude helped himself to a chair
and sat down by Big John Vulentiue’s side.

“ How are things movingl” he asked.

“ Well, pretty fairly.” the landlord replied.
“Although I do not think that I will ever make
a fortune out of this place,” was the reply.

“ The camp is not booming just now.”

“ No, it isn‘t, and it looks to me as if the
chances are that business will get worse instead
of better.”

“ Yes, unless some new strikes are made
ther’e is hardly a prospect of the town picking
n

“It is the general belief that there is not
much likelihood of any more big leads being
discovered." .

“ I am under that impression myself. '1 think
that the town has Seen its best days. Where is
Blanche, by the way?”

“ Up-stairs.”

“Isaw her ride toward the town as I came
down Broad Gulch. Murphy and I were out for
a. little shooting," Featherstone remarked.

The keen eyes of the Cowboy Dude were fixed
on the face of the old man, and the shade which
appeared on his features did not escape Feather—
stone‘s observation.

“Yes, she was out for a ride,” the landlord
remarked, slowly.

“ Did she tell you about her adventure?”

“ Ye—yes,” Valentine said, after using fo
a moment as though he was debating what

so .

x It seems to me that she ought to be a little
more careful,” the Cowboy Dude observed.
“She evidently had a narrow escape this' time,
and if Keene had not happened to have been in
the neighborhood the chances are great that she
would have been illed.”

“ So she said, and I told her that she must be
more careful in the future.”

“And then there is anotherthing to be con—
sidered about the aﬂair,” Featherstone ob-
served. “She isnow under compliment to one
of the biggest‘ rascals in the camp. and the
chances are great that the fellow will presume
upon the fact to attempt to cultivate herac-
quaintance.” ‘

“ Yes, I suppose that therein danger of that,
although it is somethingwhich I did not, think
of,” Valentine re lied. ‘

“ I am den sorry that the accident hap-
pened, for you know that I am anxious to make
your clan hter Mrs. Featherstone, and it is not
pleasant or me to reﬂect that any menu, low
ﬁn]? ofagambler has a claim to her grati-

u e.

“ Well, I suppose that it is not aﬁreeable, but
then it is hard likely that he wi be a t to
make any trou lo,” the father observed. “ hen
too, Blanche is a remarkably sensible girl, and
she is not the kind to allow a. thing of this sort
to inﬂuence her at all. It was kind of the man
to come to her assistance. but after all it was
no more than anybody would have done under
the circumstances."

“ That is very true, but will Blanche have the

'sensetolook at it in that way?” Featherstone

asked, showing b his manner_that he had con-
siderable doubt a ut the subgct.”

“ Oh, es, I think so,” alentine replied,
conﬁdent y. “ And then, as on and she under-
stand one another I don’t see ow there can be
any trouble."_ ,

‘ Yes, [but I am not sure that we do under-
stand each other i” the Cowboy Dude declared.‘

The landlord lookednstonished. ‘

, “ How is that?" he asked.

‘fWell, it is my, own ‘fault, I suppose,” the
other answered. “ I am not a very great band
for women:I your daughter is the ﬁrst girl whom I
haVe ever seen that I fancied I would like to
marry, and I do not suppose that I am very ex-
pert as a wooor.
agreeable to,her, and as she was always pleasant
and sociable I took it for granted that everything
was going on allvright." ‘ ‘

\ ‘9 Well, I supposed that it was,”’the father ob.
served. “ One thing is certain. you are the onl
men whose attentions she has ever receiv .
There have been a. dozen other! tried, to obtain
the privilege of calling on her but she always
gave them the cold shoulder.” '

“ You, I am aware of that fact, and that isthe
reason why I felt so secure about the matter,
but now I am beginning to .think that I have
been altogether too conﬁdent, for althou h I
have been puyin Blanche attention! ever so
she has come to t e town, etI have not arrived
at any deﬁnite understand 3 with her—that is,
there is no engagement between as?

   
~ “Really now, I thought rm ,mr  ”

2

     
I have tried to make myself , .,

tine remarked, evidently surprised by this state~
ment. “ I never said anything to either one of
you about the matter but I thought that it was
all arranged.” ‘ -

“ No, we have never arrived at any under-
standing, but, us I said before, it was my fault
I took it for granted that everything was all
right when it is possible that it is not.”

“ But 1 should have thought you would have
ascertained exactly how she felt about the mat-
ter. You have a tongue in your head and you
ought to have used it.”

“Yes, I know that. I see now that I have
acted like a donkey,” the rancher admitted,
frankly. “Two or three times I made up ll)
mind that I would have a deﬁnite understand?
ing with Blanche, but, somehow, when“I nt-
tempted to approach the matter, she managed
to evade the subject. I don’t know exactly how
she did it, but she worked it in such a way that
I was not able to continue: at the time it was
my idea that it was merely the natural coquetry
of a young and lively girl who, although havin
fully made up her mind to say yes, yet wnnte
to put oil.’ the decisive moment as long aspos-

sible.” , J
“ Well, I have known girls to act in just that 3".
way!” Valentine declared. '. 1'
“Well, it may be all right, and then again it ".2

may not be,” the rancher remarked. “ But I do 1’ if
not feel at all certain about the matter and
want to settle it either one we or the other so I
will know exactly how I stan ."

“ That is natural, of cont-Se. If I were in
your place I am sure I should feel about the
matter exactly as you do.“

“ You know how you are situated.” Feather-
stone continued. ” If I had not taken a fancy
to the girl I certainly would not have set you up
in this hotel." 1‘

'“ Oh, yes, yes, I. understand that,” Valentine
replied nervously. “And I give you my word
that I did not think there would be any trouble
about the matter; I thought everything was
going ahead all right. I am sure I have done
all I could to help you. and as Blanche has never ,
said anything against you I considered that the "
affair was as good as settled.“

“ Oh. it may be all right; I am not saying
that it isn’t,” Featherstone remarked. “ The
only thing is that I am not sure of it, and I
want to be!”

“ Of course, of course, only reasonable indeed
on your part. I do not blame you at all for
wishing to be released from this state of uncer—  

'ntv. ~‘ _

“ Well. now as I am such a bad hand at bring— ’
in the girl to the point suppose you try and see
w at vcu can do ” Feather-stone sug ested.

. "All right! i will be glad to ob lge you in
any we ," the landlord responded, affecting to be
cheerfu about the affair although it was plain'
that he was not.

“You can speak to her about the matter. I .
am not in any rtiouler hurry, you know: I aura ' ;
not anxious to ave her marry me right awaylif , V n
she does not feel quite prepared to becomes w a,
only I would like to have the matter settled in
some way.” r

“ Yes, I will speak to her as scones she wakes
up. She has gone to lie down for a while)” -

“All right. I am off for a business trip this '
afternoon; shall be gone for a day or two, and 
would like to have an answer when I return."

“ Yes, es, I will see to it.”

“ I w i be much obliged if you do,” said ,
Featheratone, and then he departed.

CHAPTER XI.
FATHER AND DAUGHTER.
Ame. Feetberstone was gone Big John Val-
entine remained for quite a time in deep thought. 1
The words of the rancher made him seriously ‘

une . v

Amati his ideas found expression in words. .,

“ I don’t know how this thing is goin to turn
out.” he muttered. “But I am afraid at I am; ’
booked for some trouble. Blanche has never
said that she was not Willing to marry Feather. -~
stone, although she must know that he was pg-
in her attentions to that end. Then, on, a r.
01: er hand, I never heard her say a single word ~
in his favor,so I don’t k ow what to think about ‘
the matter. She is an e tremely self-willed. oh-
stiuate 171 about some things. so different from = ‘
her root or, and when she makes up her mind it
isa hard matter to get her to change. ,
“ I don’t know how it is, but I have a decided ,,
‘n'mn'ehension that she is not going to be agreed '
a e in this matter.” . “ - i '

The landlord sat and brooded over the. situw

etion until his bartender came in. and then,
ins,r relieved from the care of the saloon, he went '

  
upstairs.

Blanche was sitting in her room sewing. and ~
without any preliminaryi warning the nthecf'g'
bmched the subject w eh wu sonmtohli
m V . _

“Mr. Featherstone was herethis afternoon,” ,

he said. . ~ ,
“Y ” ed the l in an indiﬂmt
way, 3' though she took ﬂit little inter-cit in 

“Ho wa's/u after you. and 

 
ted when 1- him on werol i down.”-
po‘anWhr, he‘can see slogans!  j _ "

    
I

     
'jg.

 doommysel

 
12

Old Benzine.

 
“Yes, but I think he had something particu-
lar that he wanted to see you about."
“ Oh, it will keep, I guess,” replied Blanche in

the same indifferent way, still busy at her work. a

“1 see that you don’t seem tocom rehend,
Blanche,” Valentine observed. “Mr. eather-
stone is in love with you, and he wanted to see
to-day how you felt about the matter.”

“ Oh, yes, I comprehend,” the girl observed, a
shade of annoyance plainly visible upon her

face. “ I guessed what he was after when you
ﬁrst s ke about the matter, and I am very
glad was lying down, for I do not want to

give him a. chance to speak on the subject.”

“ How is that?” the father questioned, his
features wearing a dark and gloomy expression,
for he saw that his worst fears were gomg to be
realized. ,

“ Because I do not want to so what I will be
obliged to say if he asks me to. e his wife,” she
answered. lifting up her head for the ﬁrst time
and looking her father straight in the face.

. “ I suppose I am to understand from this that
if he asks you to marry him you will refuse?"
Valentine said, slowly.

“Yes, I shall be obliged to decline,” Blanche
replied, ﬁrmly.

f‘W_ell, I am rather surprised at this deter-
mination. of yours, for I imagined that you
looked with a favorable e 6 upon his suit.”

“No, that is not so; never huvcl’ the girl
declared, for the ﬁrst time showing traces of
feeling. “ I merely pushed the truth from me
and would not bring myself to face it. I acts
like a coward, but now, when I am brought face
to face with the fate that threatens me, I feel
that the time has come when I must speak out.
No longer can I ﬁnd refuge in silence; no longer

,can I by trickery avoid the issue. Father, it is
an utter impossibility for me to become the Wife
of this maul”

Valentine did not speak for a few moments,
being buried in gloom reﬂections, as was plain-
ly apparent from the 00k u on his face.

Finally he raised his he
lowed to sink upon his breast, and said:

“ It seems to me that you have acted very
strangely in this matter. You must have
known long ago that Featherstone was in love
With you, and if he had not taken a fancy to
you, e certainly would not havo advanced the
mono to set me up in this hotel.”

“ es, I know that, and I am aware that I
have acted like a mean, miserable coward in
the matterl” the girl declared, with ﬂushed
cheeks. “ And I am ashamed of myself when I

reflect u n my conduct.”

“ Wel , you certainly have acted foolishly.”

“ There is some little excuse for me," Blanche
replied. “I knew how we were situated when

on made this man's acquaintance in Helena.
our money was exhausted and you knew not
which way to turn. Featherstone made you
the oﬂer to set you n in this hotel; it was a
godsend to you and 0 course you accepted it.
understood, at the time that the man had
fallen in love with me, and if it had not been
' for that circumstance he would not have trou-
bled his head about you.”

“ 0h, es, there is no doubt about that."

“ We , I, like a coward, allowed you to secs 1:
the offer, although I knew that it was like so -
ingnmyselfl" the girl exclaimed, with bitter ac-

,, cen .

“ Oh, how many times since I came here have
I . etted my action l" she continued. “ In a
bus little city like Helena, so full of business,

- there surely would have been plenty of work for
us, if we had only sought for it, and now that I
' know what I do, I am so sorry that I did not
endeavor to find employment in Helena. It
would have been far better for me to have earn-
ed my bread by manual labor—to have even
worked as a servant girl,'if I could. not have

" i found anything else to do, rather than come

here and place myself under obligation to this
If you did

. a 3 Mr. Featherstonel

l‘Y

so, you are right enough there.
not think that you would willin
the man, you ought not to have come." 4
« “I know that now, but at the time I did not
realise what a grave step I was taking,” she ex-
claimed. . v
“I have never known what it’ was to be in,
love With any gentleman. I had never seen a
single one Who caught m fancy, and as I did
not know what love was, had an idea that in
time I would learn to care for Mr. Featherstone.
But now the truth has suddenly ﬂashed upon

or a man to whom she intrusts all her future
fa, and I feel that if I became his wife I would
f to a miserable existence 1"
J Valentine listened in astonishment to this
speech, so full of scion. i .
' “ Well, you r y surprise me,” he said, after
a.pauss, for he was so much amazed thathe
hardly knew what to say. i
“ I do not wonder at that, for I am an rised
, at myself,” she replied. ‘ “ I have “rugged to
believe that I should learn to like this man—
that if I mamed bim love would come in time
but now that I am brought to the'poiut when I

 ' must decide, my soul revolts at the idea

feel that I would‘ruther die than * 13:11: i
mam...» ; ~  vi

 
, which he had 3.1- '

mommy,

me. I do not care for him as a girl should care.

“ I suppose you are aware that this means ut-
ter ruin to me," the father said, gloomily.

“Yes, I know that we must give up thisplace,
but we can get our living elsewhere!” Blanche
declared, the light of determination shining in
her face.

“ Well, I am not so sure of that,” the father
retorted.

“ I am i” the girl replied. " You can surely
get along and will not burden you with my
support, for I will go out to work for myself.”

‘ You are making a big mistake, and I think
you will live to regret it.”

“ Never 1” the girl declared.

“ Well, we will see," and then the father de-
parted, very much depressed.

CHA'PTER XII.
roaomo THE ISSUE.

Arum leaving the hotel, Featherstone saun-
tered down the street, reﬂecting upon the situa-
tion.

That, he was not pleased with the outlook
Eras apparent from the dark look upon his

are. -

“ Valentine himself is all right!" he exclaimed.
“ He will do all he can to arrange the matter,
but Blanche is all wrong, I am afraid, and I can
see that the old man is worried about the affair,
too. He does not feel at all certain that the girl
will consent. [can see that plain enough,and it
isn’t any wonder he feels anxious, for if things
don’t go right he will be in a hole.” ‘

At this point he encountered Black Tom
Murphy who came out of Cohen’s store.

“How did you get on?” the cowboy manager
in uired.

eatherstone related the conversation between
himself and Big John Valentine. ,

The other shook his head. I

“ It doesn’t look promising, oh!” the rancher
exclaimed. .

lf‘glot much it don’t 1" Black Tom Murphy re-
p is . '

“ I can see that the old man is afraid the
girl is not oing to be willing to marr me.”

“ From 1: e way he talked it certain y looks as
if he feels shak about the thingg”

“ We are 0 to-ni ht, you now, and I told
Valentine that when returned I should expect
a decided answer."

“ What do you want to wait until then for?"
the other queried. “ If I were you I would have
the matter settled either one way or the other
before I left the camp to-day l” A

Featherstone reﬂected upon this declaration
for a moment.

“ Well, I don’t know but what you are right,”
I he said, “ Why should I wait until I return i"
“No reason for it at all, as far as I can see!”
“There‘is not! The matter might as well be

settled ﬁrst as last?

“ You are reckonin that the answer will be
no, I fancy,” Black om Murphy said, in a re-
ﬂective way.

"-Ye it looks so now."

“ Wa --what do you propose to do about itl”

“ I have not made up in mind in regard to
that at, but I an pose I oug t to. ,

“ as it looks me as if you had.” ,

“Well, I think it is safe to begin by assuming
that the girl will refuse.”

“ And now the question is, are you dead-set to
get her whether she is willing or not?”

“ Yes, of course; what . difference does it
make?” the rancher exclaimed. “ If I could ar-
ran 9 the matter so as to get her to marr me it
won d not make a bit of difference whet er she
was willing or not. After we "were married she
would very soon get used to the position, and I
have no doubt that we would get along just as
well as though she had been over head and ears'
in love with me before the union." .

“Oh, yes, no doubt ’bout thatl” Black Tom»
Murphy exclaimed. “ Gals are queer cattle,
anyway, and, as far as my experience goes with
’em, a man is a fooltq pay any attention to their

 
notions." r V
“ I reckon on are about right theie.”
“ You bet am!” the other exclaimed. “ Now

my advice is to get ihe'girl to say ~yeti or no as
quickly as you kin, and if it is no—

“The chances are a. thousand to one that it
will he no, to my thinking I” the rancher inter-
rupted. - ' ,

‘ Then you want to, ﬁx some plan so she will
be obliged to marry you whether she wants to
or not.” ' ,

“ That is in game. undoubtedly l”

" How wil the old man be? Do you think
you kin depend upon him to 've you a lift!" "

, “ Oh, yes , undoubtedly“: Featherstoi'ie de-’
clared. ‘9 E’efdepends ent ly on me. It ismy
money that is coping him going now. The
‘ hotel just makes a livin for him, that is all; and
be has never been ab 0 to pay back any of the
money that I advanced him to start the place,
.andi I should demand the cash it we ,d bu’st
“5'1?” ' ' t that ha ‘ it; i
‘ 0 me on vs 0 “in n a
prett marked” .y g. ,‘ ' '

“ h, yes, and he will 'be willing to do almost
anything to get out of, it too, I reckon, when he
discovers that l sing)an toput the screws on.”

“

      
' “Everythingis a right then!” Black Tom
 ‘  w The ﬁrst p’lntisto'gitthe

  
the nature of the situation.

 
standing this ﬁrm

gal up to the scratch. Then, if she is going to
be ugly you will have to hatch u some nice
little plan so that you will be ab 6 to it her
whether she is willing or not, and if the o d man
is ame to help you the chancos are big that you
wi l be able to do the trick."

“ There will be no doubt that he will be glad
to do all in his power to help the thing alon ,
and the old fellow is not inclined tobe squeamis
either where there is a chance to make some
mone . He has admitted to me in moments of
conﬁ once that he has been mixed u in some
pretty ugly scrapes in the East, and am satis-
ﬂed from what he has said that he is a fugitive
from justice.”

“ Had to cut his lucky and run, eh?”

“Yes, not a doubt of it, and you can be safe
in betting all the money you have got that if Big
John Valentine sees a chance to get out of this
hole by aiding some scheme which will make his
daughter Mrs. Featherstone, whether she likes it
or not, he will jump at the opportunity."

“It ’1)ears to me then that you have a clear
ﬁeld afore you, and a mighty good sight for your
mono 1” Black Tom Murphy declared.

” . es, it will be some little trouble to arrange
the matter, but we can do it all right.”

“ The first thing is to get the gal to s ak,
and if I were you, I would tell her mysel and
bring her right to the p’int."

“ Yes, I will do so.”

Just at this point Pistol Pete came along and
insisted upon the pair coming up to his place and
buying a drink.

It was a ood hour before they could get away
from Pisto Pete’s Palace, and then they pro-
ceeded directly to the hotel, arriving there just
in time to meet Big John Valentine as he came
down-stairs from his interview with Blanche.

“ Have you seen your daughter?” the rancher

“ Yes, I have just come from/ her,” the land-
lord replied.

“ And I reckon from the look on your face
that thin s are not as you would like them to
be?” Fast erstone remarked.

“ That is a fact—the are not,” Valentine re-
sponded, with a dolefu shake of the head.

“ You spoke to her?"

“ Yes.”

“ And she is not agreeable.”

“ No, she is not; and mighty sorry I am, too 1”
the landlord declared, and it was plain that he
spoke the truth.

“Suppose I have a talk with her,” therancher ‘

suggested.

“ All ri ht, I am willing.” ,

“ Then can see for myself just how she feels.
about the matter," Featherstone remarked.

“ That's nothing like a man seein for himself '

in a case of this kind,” Black
added. , ‘ .

“ Very true!  will call her down to the par—
lor.” said Valentine, and immediately departed.

The 'r seated themselves to await his're-
turn. e was back in a few minutes, and made-
the announcement that the girl was in the par-

om Murphy

or.
Featherstone repaired to the apartment.
Blanche received him pleasantly enough, but
there was a look upon her face which warned
the rancher that she had nerved herself for a
disagreeable interview. \

Featherstone did not waste time,vbut came at
once to the object ho had in view.

Blanche listened attentively, although a.
troubled, look was on her facc,,and then in a
few well~cbosen words she expressed her regret
that she could not ive a favorable answer. ,

“ Suppbse you 0 not ‘let this conclude the
matggr, but take time to think over it,” he
urg .
the conclusion to chap e our mind.”

“ Oh, no!" she repli ,_ in a very decided way.
“That is altogether unlikely. I can in you
an answer now as well as though I re acted for
months upon your pro al.”

“And you are cgu sure that you will not
chan e your mind'l'

“ ulte sure 1” she answered, ﬁrmly. ,

“ is will be a. severe blow toyour father,
for he favors my suit," the rancher remarked.
“ And 1 know he would be very much pleased if
a match could be’made between us two.”

“ Yes, I am aware of that fact, and though I
should like to please: my father, yet in this case
it is not possible for me to do so.

“ Do not make any mistake about this mat-
ter,” she hastened to add.
not one to which I have arrived on the spur of
the moment, but thave ven deep and earnest
thought, to it. I know t is
me to marry you, and I have triven with all
my power to bring in self to consent to the
union, but I ﬁnd that it not possible for me to
do so. I fully understand all the consequences
which may follow my decision. I comprehend
I know - tmy
father is so situated‘that he can he“ edit
you choose to say the word—that we I be
driven out the world, vet-1y little better
than, but, in spite of al this, the only
answer t I can
thefu’ture is no!”

‘9 Well, I am ver

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shall continue to hope that in time you will
change your mind,” Featherstoue responded, and
then he bowed himself out.

When he returned to the saloon Big John
Valentine surveyed him with anxious eyes.

t The rancher took a chair and sat by the other
WO.

“ It is no go!” he exclaimed.

“ She wouldn’t have it?” Big Tom Murphy
exclaimed.

“ Not by a jugi’ull" Featherstone replied.

“Maybe she will change her mind in time,”
the father suggested, nervously.

“ She will not, unless she is placed in such a
position that she can’t help herself!” the rancher
remarked.

Valentine caught at the suggested idea at
once. -

“ Can‘t we work it so that the game will run
that way?" he asked, sinking his voice almost to
a whisper.

“ Are on game to go into a scheme of that
kind?” eatherstone questioned.

“Yes, of course I am! Do you suppose that I
am such a fool as to let the stupid stubbornness
of a self-willed girl stand between me and pros-
perity?" the landlord cried angrily.

“It is a bargain then!” heathersone said.

“ When I return I will devise some scheme
and you can rest assured that we will work it
so Isan get the girl whether she is willing or
n

This declaration ended the conference.

CHAPTER XIII.
HELD UP.

Tin: stage coach which left White Sulphur
Springs had covered half the distance which so
arated the Springs from Diamond City, the OE:
jective point to which the coach was bound.

0:: this trip the vehicle had a rticularly se-
lect party on board, although t ere were only
three passengers.

There was a portly six-footer, with ﬂowing
iron-gray hair and heard, which gave him a lion-
like aspect, no less a personage than General
Abraham Beeswing, Governor of Montana; a
short thick-set, broad-shouldered man, almost as
broad as he was long, a gentleman well in years,
as his white hairs showed; his smoothly suaven
face with its big double chin betrayed signs that
1t’lie owner did not neglect the good things of this

I e. -
This was chief justice, Judge Jefferson Jones.

The third was a tall, angular man, with jet-
blick hair and beard, Colonel “Jim” Macarthy
by name, reputed to he the richest and keenest
speculator in the territory.

The party had been over to White Sulphur
Springs to look at some pro rty which the wily
Colonel Jim had discovered. nd as the deal was
a little more than he could handle himself he had
got the governor and the judge to join him in
the speculation. .

It was a jovial party!

' Both the judge and the speculator were born
story-tellers, and they had brightened the tedi-
ous journey with many a laughable tale.

The party were in an excellent humor for they
lilad argyle a splendid bargain, as Colonel Jim de-
c or .

“ ’Tisn’t every day‘, gentlemen, that a man gets
a chance to put in ten-thousand dollars and pull
out a hundred thousand in its place!”

“Oh, it is a big thing! There is not a doubt
of that!” the governor declared with' the air of
an oracle.

“Yes, yes, and we are in on the und ﬂoor!”
the judge exclaimed with a chuck e of delight.

The stage coach came to a sudden stop.

The governor and the jud s were sitting on the
back seat, facing Colonel acarthy, who had
the front one all to himself. \

The coach stopped so abruptly that the pas-
sen ers were almost thrown from their seats.

“ ellol what the deuce is the, matteri” cried
the governor in amazement. ’

“ Something must have given way, I presume,”
said the Judge. .

“ Mighty odd i” cried the colonel.’

And then all three stuck their heads out of the
coach windows.

But the three heads came in from the windows
much quicker than they went out, and for a
good reason, too. V

On each side of the coach were two men who
leveled cocked revolvers at the passengers as the
heads were poked through the windows.

The four men had their faces bid by ﬂour-
bags drawn on over their heads, with holes cut
in them for eyes and mouth, a most effectual

disguise
“ Hold up your hands, pardnersl” cried the
masked man who confronted the governor.
“ Don’t attempt to come an funny business, or
we will blow the hull top 0 yer heads off!” -
The pamngors looked at each other and their
dropped ' a

under awn

This was a most dismistingsituation.

All were armed, and with revolvers of the
newest and most expensive pattern, but under
these peculiar circumstances their weapons were
no more use to them than if they had been bits
of harmless wood. I

“ Now, then, non, have the kindness to

k.

    
.7 l,

. n
mp‘nw the

 
7 light down,.liv y,and give your weapons to

the man at the door as you git out! ’ the outlaw
leader continued.

“ Be keerful ‘bout cutting up any monkey-
shinesl No dropping your watches or wallets on
the ﬂoor of the coach, or stufﬁng ’cm in the
cushions, ’cos we are up to all them tricks, and
we will ketch you (lead to rights, every timel"

By this time the governor had recovered from
the consternation produced by the attack and
he was unwise enough to believe that the am
nouncement of who he was would deter the bold
road-agents.

“ en, you will get yourselves into serious
trouble if you persist in this attack l" be ex-
claimed, in a very indignant tone. “ I judge
that you have little idea of who I am, of the
nature of the high ofﬁce I hold!”

“Why, I know you as well as though on
were my own brother!” the road-agent c ief
cried. “ You are Bald Billy who runs the fare-
bank in Diamond Cityl”

Despite the peril which threatened the party
the judge and the colonel could not repress a
grin when they beheld the effect that this an-
nouncement produced upon their com anion.

“ Bald Billy be hanged l” he yelled, ndi naut-
ly. “ I am General Abraham Beeswing, over~
nor of Montana!"

“Why so it is!” exclaimed the road-agent,
pretending to examine the features of the of-
ilcial, attentively. “ But i sw’ar, governor", you
are so blamed like that sneaking, no—soul, white-
livered galoot Bald Billy, that you would do to
pass for twins."

And at this jest the other disguised men
laughed heartily.

As for the governor he was almost struck
dumb at the audacity of the outlaw.

“.Well, come, hop out lively governor!” the
road-agent continued in a brisk, business-like
way. “ I reckon I am a heap sight better
pleased to see you than I would be to see Blind
Billy, although I freely admit that I would like
to get a chance at that thieving galoot, for the
last time I was in his sbebang, and stacked up
ng’in his bank, I lost ﬁve hundred good solid
chucks so quick that it made my head swim, but
it is all the same; I will get squar’ on you, seeing
that you look so much like him.”

“ But I say, my inan,now that ycu know who
I am you surely will not dare to persist in this
outrage!” the governor exclaimed.

“Why, governor, hain’t I got to collect the
toll?" the outlaw exclaimed, nﬂecting to be as-
tonished. “ Now what sort of a toll-keeper
would you take me to be if I let on go free Jest
because you hap ned to be overnor of the
Territory? Why, reckon you would be hustling
’rouud jest as soon as you get to Helena to up
p’int some other galoot in my place.

“No, sir-eel nobody goes free over this hyer
road! Every mother’s son must pong up!”

Then the outlaw affected for the rst time to
catch sight of the other two.

“ Hello! why bless mv stars! if this hyer ain’t
a reg’lar surprise party! Judge Jones, I am
Baoud to see you, the same to you Colonel J imi

ell, now, the sight of you three distin uished
bucks is good for a man with sore eyes! ow I
come to think of it I heered that you-’un’s were
over to White Sulphur Springs, but I didn’t
reckon that I would corral you so soon.”

This speech convinced the passengers that
they were the victims of a carefully devised
plot, and the governor by this time came to the
conclusion that he could not make anything by
attempting to stand upon his dignity.

‘ “ Well, since you have got us in a tight place
I suppOse we will have to comply with your de-
mands,” the ofﬁcial said. “ But I can assure
you that you. are making a serious mistake in
robbing men like ourselves, for the whole
country will ring with the outrage and you most
certainly will be captured and punished,” and
as h?! spoke the governor descended from the
cone .

' “ Why, is our mone so much better than
anybody else sf” the roa agent chief demanded
sarcastically. .

“You will ﬁnd that robbing me will cause

you more trouble than if I was a common
overnor replied tartly.
5. reckon we will have to take our
chances on thati ’Tain’t ever day, you know,
that galoots in my line of bu ness it a chance
to ho (1 up a governor I” And then 9 laughed
hoaréely, his companions joining in the merri-
men

“ Now hand over your we‘ governor, and
then oblige me by shelling out your wealth.

The oﬁcial was in the toilyand so he com-
plied with the. command, although it was with
an ill grace. \

The governor’s revolver the outlaw chief stuck
in his halt the wallet which was‘full of money
he put in his pocket.

“ Now yer watch and chain, ‘and I see a nice]

little sparkler on or ﬁnger, too,” the outlaw
chief remarked. “ hat is the genuine article, I
’sposei I reckon a man like yourself wouldn’t
be mean enough to wear no glass diamond."

“Isay now, gen ought to be satisﬁed with
the. wallet an leave me the jewelry,” the
governor remarked: “Thereisover ﬁve bun-

reddoilars in the wallet.”

“Glad to hear my  road-agent.

 
“That is jest the kind of a wallet I like to git
hold on, but as for the jewelry, governor, I real-
ly will have to take keer on it for you. You see,
this hyer is a mighty lonvly trail 'tween liyer
and Diamond City, and it is jest as likely as not
that on might meet with some scainps who
wouldy go in for to rob you of your jewelry

but if I take keer of it for you now you wil

know jest whar it is, and yer mind will be easy;
so hand it over!”

General Beeswing saw that there was no use
of wasting time in remonstrnting, and so with a
sour face he handed over his valuables.

“ Escort his high and mighty Excellency, the
Governor of Montana to a seat in the grand
stand i" cried the outlaw chief and he waved his
hand to a. pile of rocks a hundred feet off. ‘

Away went the general in charge of one
the masked men. ‘~

“New, Judge Jones, if you will have the kind
nose to promenade down the center, swin your
pardner, and pass over our plunder!” cried the
road-agent chief, jocose y.

The Judge descended from the coach.

He surrendered his wallet, which was ﬁlled to I
bursting with hills gave up a watch and chain,
worth a couple of hundred of any man’s money
as the road-agent remarked. when he received
the articles, surveying them with a critical

e c.

yThe jud ehad some handsome and valuable
rings whic the outlaw demanded.

‘ Well, there is one consolation for me in this
thing,” the chief justice remarked with a

gnmace.

“ What is that?”

“I shall probably have the pleasure of passing
the death Sentence on you one of these dayt un»
less you are lucky enough to get shot,” the judge ‘
replied, grimly. .

, ' Oh, don’t you count on that l” the outlaw re-
torted. “The rope is not spun, nor the bullet
run which will take my life.”

“'That is what every man in your line declares,
whether he believes it or not, but there is not a
man-jack of you all but what dies by bullet,
steel or rope in the end,” the judge declared.

“ Oh we are all right, we have all got our
lives insured!” the outlaws cried, and then the
rest laughed. hoarsely, at the remark.

“Now, judge, take a reserved seat alongside
the Igoyernor, so as to keep him from getting
one .

It ywas plainly to be seen that the outlaw
chieftain desired to be considered a humorist.

The judge obeyed the command. .

The road-agent then turned .his attention to
the speculator.

ft‘jCome, now it is your turn, Colonel Jim l” he
an .

“ I am yours to command!” exclaimed that
gentLeman pleasantly as he descended from the
cone .

Macarthy was too old a stager to manifest
anﬁ ill-humor.

e knew enough of the road-agents, and their
ways of doing business, to be aware that the
best method of getting' along with them was to
submit cheerfully to their decrees.

“Colonel Jim it really pains me to be’ obliged
toask you to shell outl” the outlaw chief de-
clared with a solemn shake of the head.

“Is that so?” the speculator exclaimed, sur-
pﬁised by the statement, while the governor and
t e ‘udge looked astonished.

“ hat is a sure .enni! fact!” the outlaw re-
plied. “ You see, you are in the same boat
with us and we professionals ought not to skin
one another.”

“ Oh, that is it, eh?” the speculator exclaimed, ' ;

wiucing a little under the thrust.

“ Yes, dog on ht not to eat dog, you know
and you are sic a ﬁrst-class hand at the art 0
collecting shekels without giving up much of

anything for them that I really fee pained at
be u obli to trouble {on for your wealth,
and woudnot do it cit or if we wasn’t so

blamed hard up; but, you see, we want money
in the worst way, and so weareforced toga
throxurgh you. .

“ on kin consider it asaloan though,” the
road-agent added. ,“ And if you will givemc
your address I will see that the amount is paid
haul: justas soon as we can arrange the mat»

" Well, I can assure you that I feel excessively
obliged.” the colonel replied with apolite how
of acknowledgment. entering into the spirit of
the thing, just as if he believed that the foot-pad
meant what he said.

“ I shall strive to keep [your kindness in my
mind, as there may come a time when I will be
able to return it.”

“Oh. that is all right!" the road-agent exo,

claimed. “ As you are in the same line of busi’
ness as ourselves, relieving the public at is .
of their wealth, although you work the trick
cunning, having the gift of the gab, while we
are compelled to trust to shooting-irons, it ain’t ~
jail: the cheese for us to skin you, and. as I
store, we would not do it if we could be! our-
selves, but as we cannot. we must go a ._ So
fork over your wealth, if you please!” V
The colonel surrendered his wallet, which we!

a u an». -
mu lib laden-i i".‘.h"i‘.m..:~ «new the out.

I C

   
‘. agent declared.

14

 BénZIné.‘

 
law 'as he opened the wallet, pulled out the roll
of bills and examined them. “Only fifty odd
dollarsl Why, Colonel Jim, 1 am surprised!
The idee of a man like yourself a-going traveling
round the country no better heeled than that i”

“ You ought to have struck me as I went into
White Sulphur Springs, not on mycoming out,”
the speculator remarked. “ I had a heap sight
more money then."

“ Oh, I see! you left ycr big roll at the

“ Put up a. thousand, mebbe, expecting to
catch ﬁfty i”

“That is the way I usually try to work the
game,” the speculator replied, with a. smile.

“ Wail, if you give us warning when you corral
the ﬁfty thousand at, as to the road you will
travel, we will be g ad to help you take hear of
some of it,” the outlaw chief remarked.

“ Why, certainly, of course i” Colonel Macar-
thy exclaimed. “You have such a persuasive
way with you that it is hard work for a man to
refuse you anything.”

“ Oh, we are white clean through I" the road-
“ ow, Colonel Jim, I will
have to trouble you for yer watch and jew-
elry.”

“ Well, now, I had an idea that you would not
care to take the jewelry,” the speculator re-
marked, banteringly, as he proceeded to comply
with the demand.

“ IVal, if it wasn’t for the fact that we have
cleaned out the governor and the judge we would
be apt to let you run,” the footpud chief de-
clared. “ But we don’t want to hurt their feel-
ings, you know, by making ﬂesh of one and ﬁsh
of the other, so we will have to clean you out,
jest the same as the rest.”

So the speculator’s jewelry was sent to join the
rest in the capricious pocket of the outlaw.

“Do you wish me to take a reserved seat on
the grand stand, tool" the colonel asked, entering
into the joke of the outlaw.

“ Not yeti Have not quite got through with
you yet, Colonel J im," the road agent replied.

The regulator elevated his eyebrows in aston-
ishment.

“ Not through with me?” he questioned.

“ Not quitei” and the outlaw chief laughed.
“ The fact is, colonel, you are sich a mighty
slippery cuss that I have got to keep my eyes on
you. I know powerful well that you kin git
away with any common man in a trade and not
half try either, and I am reckoning that it ain’t
imppssible you have played some little game on
me. ’

“ How so?“ exclaimed the speculator, affecting
to be vastly astonished.

“ You stood in the coach while I were going
through the governor and the judge, and I
reckon that you had plenty of time to stow away
some of your wealth, so I will have to trouble
you to turn your pockets inside out.”

“ Certainly i” exclaimed Colonel Macarthy,
cheerfully. “ I must say that you understand
your business as well as any man I ever met in
your line.”

“Yes, the man who picks me up for a slouch
will get left.”

Colonel Macarthy turned his pockets inside
out one by one, but no more money was pro-
duced.

“ You did not ca‘ech on that timei” the specu—
lator exclaimed, with a laugh.

“ Oh, you are a cunning duck, and no mis-
takei" the road agent chief declared, in a tone
full of deep admiration.

“ ls that all?"

“ Oh no!”

“ What else?” and again the eyebrows of the

speculator were elevated.

“ J est unbutton yer vest! I haiu’t seen a. noble
b‘iled shirt for so long that my eyes are hungry
for a sight of one.”

The colonel hesitated, and it was plain he was
embarrassed.

“ Come, hurry u and delight my eyesl” the
outlaw chief exc aimed. “ Never mind if it
ain’t so clean as it ought to be, I will excuse it.”

The speculator saw that he was in the toils and
so be complied with the request.

When the vest was opened and the shirt-bosom
exposed, 10! there was a good “ fat" roll of bills
sticking in the waistband of the pantaloons.

The colonel had watched his opportunity while
the examination of the governor was going on,
and the attention of his guard was fora moment
withdrawn, to slip the hills out of his wallet and
secrete them inside of his vest.

“ Thunder and lightningi Colonel Jim, hack-
on you done forgot that ar’ roll that you had in
thar when you gi’n up your wealth!” the outlaw
chief exclaimed in tones of wonder, just as if he
was much an rised by the discovery.

“ Yes, I rec on I did,” the speculator replied,
endeavoring to put as good a face as possible
upon the matter.

“ Wain these leetle things will slip from a.
man’s mind once in a. while. Hand it over,
please i”

The colonel complied.

“ Three hundred and twenty dollars l” observed
the outlaw as he ﬁnished the count of the money.
“ Wal, that is something like.

“ Now, colonel, j’ine the governor and judge.

 
Keep quiet for ten minutes and then you kin go

on.

“ So lougi see you ug’in sometime. Vamosel”
And then the road-agents plunged into the bushes
and disappeared.

A more successful robbery was never accom-
plished.

 
CHAPTER XIV.
SEEKING VENGEANCE.

THE three victims looked at each other and
not a word was spoken until the rustling in the
bushes stopped, showing that the road-agents had
got out of hearing, then the governor broke the
silence.

“Well; upon my word, gentlemen, I must
admit that this outrage beats anything that I
ever heard of in all my experience i” he exclaim-

ed.

“ I do not believe that a. holder assault than
this is recorded in the annals of the Westi" the
judge declared.

“There is no disputing, gentlemen, that this
man is away up at the top of the heap in his
peculiar line!” the colonel declared in accents of
admiration.

“He is a genius, gentlemen, and no mistake.
If he had not been, he never would have tumbled
to the little game I played,” the speculator add-

ed.

“ That is a fact,” the governor remarked.
“ There is no doubt that the scoundrel is a clever
one, but that is no consolation for the loss we
have sustained.”

“ No, by gadi it isn’ti” the judge exclaimed.

“ The miserable rascall If I ever get a chance
at the Scoundrel when Iain on the bench you
can depend upon it that I will give him all the
law allows!”

“ Well, that may be a consolation to you,
judge, but I Will be hanged if it is to me!" the
governor declared.

“ You ob 'ect to being robbed, even if it is done
in a scienti c manner, eh?” Colonel Macarthy
observed.

“ Yes, sir, I do decidedly i” the ofﬁcial respond-

“And in my opinion the mock politeness on
the part of this scamp was only adding insult to
injury.

“But I can tell you, gentlemen. that I will
make this affair cost all these rascals dearly
before 1 get through with them," the governor
continued, getting more and more indignant as
he reﬂected upon the details of the robbery.

“ You propose to make an attempt to hunt
them down, suppose,” the judge said.

“Yes, sir, I do, most decidedly!” the ofﬁcial
responded in a manner which plainly showed he
meant what he said.

“ The moment I arrive in Helena I shall set
the machinery of the law in motion. I will
have these rascals hunted down if it is possible
for the feat to be accomplished by the wit of
man, and of course there is no doubt that it can
be done,” the governor announced.

“Oh, yes, it is only a question of time and
money,” the judge remarked.

The speculator shook his head, and it was
evident from the expression upon his face that
he did not agree with his companions in regard
to this matter.

“Well I tell you what it is. gentlemen,” he
said. “ n my Opinion you will have a deal more
trouble in catching, these road-agents than you
seem to anticipate.

“ Oh, noi” exclaimed the governor. “All
that is necessary to be done is to put plenty of
men on the case and offer a big reward.”

“ Yes, that is iti” the judge coincided. “ The
country must be roused, and the offer of a. large
reward will putso many men on the track of
these scoundrels that it will not be possible for
them to escape arrest.”

“ Oh, I am with you, gentlemen, in any game
that you choose to put up!" the colonel declared.
“ You must not think that because I am under
the impression the scheme will be far more
difﬁcult to carry out than you imagine, that I
am not with you heart and soul, because I am,
and if money is needed I am ready to put up my
share.”

“ Money, well, hum, he!” said the governor,
in a reﬂective way. “Certainly a reward must
be oﬂered for the apprehension of these outlaws,
or else we will not be able to induce private
citizens to go into the thing, but as governor of
the Territory I can offer a reward for the cap-
ture of the fellows; that is strictly in the line of
my duty, you know.”

"Oh, yes, not a doubt of iti” the judge de-
clared. “ And, under the circumstances, you
are fully justiﬁed in doin it.”

Both the governor an judge were noted for
being extremely close with their money, and it
was apparent that although they smarted under
the outrage which had been perpetrated upon
them, yet they did not intend to spend any money
of their own to aid in bringing the road-agents
to justice if they could help it.

“ Oh, yes, as Governor of the Territory there
is no doubt that you have authority to oﬂfer a
good, big reward for the capture of these ras-
cals.” the speculator remarked. “ But it was
mv idea that it was our game to chip in and
otter a private reward. There is a good deal of

 
red tape about all Government business, and
men are a little suspicious that if they go into
an affair of this kind, and succeed in making
a success of it, that, at the last moment some
Government oﬂ’tcer would pop up and claim a.
big share of the reward.”

“Well, I don’t know,” the governor said,
thoughtfully. “ Don’t you think that the regu-
lar ofﬁcers of the law will be able to catch the
scoundrels?”

“They certainly ought to be able to do iti”
the judge declared. “ Marshal Bill Hendrix of
Helena, is an able and determined man and if he
started in to arrest these outlaws I think the
chances are good that he would succeed.”

“ And Hendrix is under obligations to me,
too,” the governor asserted. “ So I feel sure he
would do all in his power to aid me in any
way.” ‘

“The marshal is a good man enough, but he
is a. politician and not a thief-catcher, and there
is an old adage, gentlemen, which says, every
man to his trade. It I wanted to work a politi-
cal game there is not a fellow in Montana whom.
I would choose in preference to Bill, Hendrix,
for what he don’t know about pulling wires in a
political line is not worth knowing, but when it
comes to catching a keen, cunning rascal of the
style of this road—agent, I tell you, gentlemen,
the marshal will not ‘ be in it’ at all!”

The conﬁdent declaration of the speculutor,
who was well known to be a most excellent
judge of mankind, had due weight with the
governor and the judge.

“ Well, what would you advise?” asked General
Beeswing.

“Yes, let us hear from you on the subject 2”

exclaimed the judge. “I presume you have
some scheme in your mind?”
“ Oh, es, or else I should not have said any-
thing. I’am not one of the kind of men who
talks merely for the pleasure of hearing the
sound of my own voice,” Colonel Macarthy de-
clared. .

“Yes, yes, we understand that. Everybody
who knows you, colonel, knows that you are
Old Business from A to Zi” the governor re-
marked.

“You are eminently practical; there is no
doubt about that,” the judge asserted.

“W'eil now, the idea of General Beeswing
offering a reward, as Governor of the Territory,
for the apprehension of these rascals, is all
right,” the speculator observed. “ But, in ad-
dition to that reward, my notion was for us to
chip in and put up about a thousand dollars——
there were ﬁve men in this rty, and athou—
sand would be two hundre apiece for each
man. Make the offer two hundred dollars
apiece, dead or alive, then go to Bob Chutney,
who runsa little private detective business in
Helena, and get him to take the job. Put up
two hundred for him, right in the beginning, so
as to show that we are in earnest about the
matter. I do not think there is a doubt that he
will jump at the chance, for he will be sure of
the thousand, besides standing a show to get
the Government reward, if he succeeds in catch-
ing the men.”

‘That will be about three hundred and
thirty-three dollars apiece,” the governor ob
served.

“ uite a little sum to put out, in addition to
the loss which we have already suffered,” the
judge remarked.

“ Gentlemen, revenge is a luxury, and luxuries
come high," Colonel Macarthy declared, im-
pressively. “Now, for my own part, I don’t
mind going a few hundred dollars, if by the ex-
penditure of the money I can succeed in getting
is uare with these rascals who have had such a.
picnic at our expense.”

“Well, if it is your opinion that Marshal
Hendrix, and the regular machinery of the law,
will not be able to lay these fellows by the heels
I would prefer to pay three or four hundre ’
dollars, rather than not have the scoundrels
punished,” the governor remarked.

“That is just the wa I feel about the mat-
ter,” the judge declare . “If General Bees-
wing, as Governor of the Territory, offers a re—
ward of a thousand dollars, say, for the appre.

hensiun of the rascals, and that offer will be thel

means of capturing them, I don’t see the neces-
sity of our moving in the matter.”

‘ Certainly not!“ the colonel exclaimed.
“But, I am going on the idea that the regular
ofﬁcers of the law will not be able to do any-
thing.”

“ Suppose we give the matter a trial, before
we do anything on our own hook,” the governor
suggested. “ I will issue a proclamation offer-
ing a reward of a thousand dollars for the ap-
prehension of these ﬁve men, or two hundred
dollars apiece for an of the hand; then we can
wait for a while an see how the ihing works.

If it does not result in the capture of the scoun-

drels then we can try your plan, colonel, and
call in this private detectivs.” .

“ The governor has exactly voiced the ideas
wihigg I have upon the subject!” the judge de-
car .

Colonel Macarthy comprehended that the pair
had made up their minds not to spend any of
their own mone if they could help it, even to
gratify their esires for revenge, and so he

 
Old Benzine.

 
15

 
‘ made no further effort to persuade them to
t adopt the only course, which, in his judgment,
promised success.

.1 “ All right, gentlemen, I bow to the will of
' I the majority," he observed. “ You can try your
plan, and if it does not work then you can fall
back on mine."

“Yes, yes, there will be plenty of time,” the
govsrnor remarked.

“ Let me see—that ten minutes is about up, I
should think,” the judge said.

“ Yes, [should say so, and we might as well
resume our seats !” the colonel added.

Then the three approached the stage.

The driver, a fat, jolly-looking fellow, turned
in his seat and gazed down upon the party as
they came up to the coach.

“ I was jest a going to call you,geuts,” he said.
“For I reckoned that it was ’bout time we got
out of this hyer.”

“ Did you ever encounter these scoundrels be-
fore, driver?” the governor asked. ‘

“ No, but then I ain’t bin n-di'iving on .this
iroute only for a week," the man replied. “ But
‘I have beered or ’ein afore.”

“ Aha! you have!” General Beeswing exclaim—
ed, while the other two were “ all ears.”

“ Oh, yes, ’tain’t the ﬁrst time that they have
held up a stage on this trail 2” the J ohu an-
nounced.

“ Strange that no one in the White Sulphur
Springs warned us that there was danger of our
being robbed on this routel" the judge ex-
claimed.

“ Well, I reckon that nobody suspicioned that
there was any danger,” the driver replied. “ It
is a good month now since they held up a coach
on this trail, and I s’pose everybody thought
they had dusted to some other, part of the couii~
try. The gang have done more work on the
trails to the north of the Big Belt range than
V down in this region.”

,  “ It is an old established gang thou?” the gov-
ernor remarked.

“ Wal, as near as I kin recollect, I furst beered
on ’em ’bout a year ago,” the driver said, in a
reﬂective way.

“ A year ago!” exclaimed the governor, in
astonishment. “ The fellows have been at it for
some time thenl."

“ Yes, but ‘ not down in this region, you un-
derstand,” explained the driver. “ I reckon it
was only ’bout three months ago when they furst
stopped a. coach on this trail. The Flour-sack
Gang is the name they go by.”

“ Ah, I see, because they disguise themselves
by drawing a ﬂour—sack on over their heads,”
the judge remarked. ,

“ That’s the _reason, I reckon, but there’s no
telling that this gang is the same as t‘other one
w’ot used to operate to the north of the range,
’cos this party may have got the idee of the ﬂour-
sack biz from the others, but I reckon ’tis ’cos
Egar’yvas ﬁve in that gang and their were five in

is. ,

“ Probably the same,” the governor observed.
“ But let us get in, gentlemen, and roceed on
our way. I Will put a nice rod in pick 9 for these
rascals when I get to Helena."

A minute later the coach was in motion en
route for Diamond City.

 
- may...»

vi. "  “- an‘; A- i.‘

 
CHAPTER XV.
Barman. “ .
IN due time the three arrived at Helena and

 
comment. _
The ﬁrst thin that the governor did was to
summon Marsha Hendrix.
The marshal came; a long-bearded, ponderous
fellow with a pompous way, a politician, pure
I ' , and simple, who was reported to have feathered
his nest pretty well, since comin to Montana.

At the governor‘s suggestion udge Jeﬂ'erson
Jones and Colonel Macartby were present at the
conference. ~. ‘

The marshal listened attentively while General
Beeswing related the story of the robbery.

“ The boldest thing of the ,kind that I ever
heardvof in all my experience in the West!” the
marshal declared, emphatically. “ The fellows
were mighty rash tool The idea of tackling men
like yourself and Judge J ones! I don’t mean any
disrespect to you, colonel,” headded. “ You are

qt 9. public man, and they might consider you
to be air game, but when it comes to holding up
the/ governor of the Territory and the chief
justice, then it must beadmitted that the fellows
went in to play the big est kind of a game!”

“ Yes, and it is my an that I will be able to
make them repent of their rashness before I get
' i , / through with thegangl” the governor declared.
‘ ‘ - . “ A , yes, no doubt about thatl”:the marshal
exclaimed in the most positive way. r -

“ I am going to oﬂer a reward of a thousand
dollsrs for the apprehension of the gang!" Gen-
eral win remarked. ‘ ,

, “ That m fetch ’em sure i” the marshal cried.
. “ Such a reward as that will rouse the whole
country. I should not be surprised if the scouri-
drels were run down inside ofa week! I will
look after the matter myself, and putsoine of my

 
I batman on was?“
lint. 

1 rs.

their tale of the robbery excited considerable

    
tongue in his cheek in a knowing way; he held
his peace though.

The governor wrote out the proclamation offer-
ing a thousand dollars reward for the apprehen-
sion of the gang, and then the marshal departed
to make it public.

‘ The governor could not resist the temptation
to crow over the speculation a little.

“ Well, what do ou think now?” he asked,
rubbing his fat ban s cheerfully together. “You
see judge and I were right in thinking that there-
was no need of our offering a reward out of our
own pockets. ”

“No, [don’t see it!” the colonel exclaimed,
bluntly. “ Can it be possible that two old and
experienced men of the world can be so easily
fooled by a little loud talk? Upon my word I
am astonished!”

“ Don’t you think that the marshal will be
able to catch the rascals?" the governor demand-
ed, nettled by the incredulity of the speculator.

" No, I do not! I do not take the least stock
in his assertions and I will tell on what I will
be willing to do, gentlemen: will back my
opinions with good moneyl i will bet you any-
thing you like that Hendrix does not catch these
road—a gents l”

The governor and the judge looked at each
other. ‘

To use the common saying, neither one had
any “sporting blood in their veins,” and they
did not dare to accept the offer. .

“ Hum, ha!" said the governor, “ reall , col-
onel, I am not a betting man, you know, but if
I were I would surely make u wager with you,
for it is my opinion, that I Would certainly
WlD.

“ That is what I think!" the judge declared.
“ But as I never bet, I cannot back up my opin~
ion with money.”

“Well, in a case of this kind,- money talks,
you know.” the speculator rejoined.

“ Evcnﬁf the marshal and his men do not suc-
ceed in anti-upping the scoundrels, the offer of
the large reward may stimulate private parties
to capturing the road-agents,” the governor re-
marked.

“ Oh. yes, there are a lot of may-hes in this
world, but they do not always pan out as they
ought to,” the colonel remarked, signiﬁcantly.
“Still, it is idle to waste time in speculating
upon the matter. All we can do is to wait and
see how the thing will work.”

The publication of the proclamation excited
considerable attention, but the people at large
did not forsake their occupation and go to hunt-
ing road-agents, if they were worth two hundred
dollars apiece. ,

v'l‘hey reasoned that there was about as much
chance of catching the men who had robbed the
coach, seeing that they had a good two days’
start of Justice, as there was of ﬁnding the
traditional needle in a. bundle of bay.

The marshal blustersd around; got to other
gn armed force and: rode to White Su phur

rings. -

pI-Ie was after claws, and loud] proclaimed
that if he could get on the trac of the road-
icslgents it would not take him long to run them
own.

But the men who ‘had been bold enough to
rob the governor of the Territory were not
giving any points away, and the marshal could
not get any more clews to the marauders than
if they had never existed. ’

Ten days he fooled away in the neighborhood
of White Sulphur Springs and Diamond City,
and then returned to Helena to report that his
,mission had not been crowned by success.‘

“ You see the chances are bi . you know, that
sitter securing so great a an], the rascals
have disbanded the gang and each man taken a
different road,” he explained to excuse his want
of success. “ And as they had so bi a start
they had the chance to get clear out this Ter-
ritor before I started in on their trail.” I

This explanation was made to General Bees-
wing and Jugge Jones in presence of Colonel
Macarthy wh had been on the watch for the
marshal’s return so as to be able to be present
when he made his report, and he could not re-
sist a quiet smile of triumph as he gazed upon
the disappointed pair. .

“ Well, well, I must as that I did not expect
this!” the governor ex aimed. “I felt sure
that the offer of a thousand dollars would be
certain to insure the capture of the rascals.”

“ Undoubtedl it would, governor, if the tale
13131:; were in t e Territory,” the marshal re-

“ at you see, gentlemen, after making such a
haul as this, it is only natural for the fellows to
give leg ball as soon as possible.

   
thousand miles away. by this time.”
‘9 ,It is my opinion thatthey are old hands at
the game," the marshal continued, with asoleinu
wag of his b g head. “And being then up to all
sorts of dodges, they knew that after they had
held uprtbe the governor and the chief justice
‘ erritory' the quicker they gotout of 

 
nﬁgghorhood the batten”- ,
‘ 1:

  
commands .
, y’atuck  than

, isoxtremely ‘1”.1’ p 


~ like a. pair of Chinese mandarins.

only been robbed. but he, be high and
Wb ,, the
chances are big that they are five hundred to a‘

    
“ So would I, so would Ii” the governor ex-
claimed. “ By Jove! it is monstrous to think
that the governor of the Territory can be robbed
with impunity!” _

The colonel could not help indulging in a ser-
castic smile as he noted the indignation of the

air.
“ It is a shame that we cannot bring these res--
cals to justice,” the judge observed.

“ That is a fact," the marshal admitted.
“ But it is one of those cases where all a man can '
do is to grin and bear it.”

“ No possible way, as far as you see, to get on
the track of the scoundrels?" the governor asked.

The marshal affected to reﬂect upon the niat- ,
Ber (flor a few monieuts, and then he shook his , '

ea . "i ‘

“ Wal, no, governor, I don’t see a show to get
after them,” he replied. "' If the men had kept _ . ,
together in a gang, there might be a chance, but ‘
you are safe in betting all the money that .you -'
can get hold of that they have scattered to the
four quarters of the compass, and it is my belief
that there isn’t a man of ’eni in Montana to-

da i”

This itive assertion bad due weight with
Genera Beeswiug, who bud great faith in the
marshul’s judgment, but the judge Was not so
easil satisﬁed.

“ tseenis tome, marshal, that it is impossi-
ble for any one to be certain whether the men
are in the Territory or not,” Judge Jones re-
marked. “ I will admit that it appears as
though the chances are great the scoundrels
have made haste to get out of harm‘s way, but
there is a posﬂbility, you know, that they have
some hiding—place near at band, to wbiCb the
have retired, and where they will remain until \ .
the storm blows over.” ’

“ Oh, there is no denying that there is a chance
that it may be so but I must say that i. don’t
take no stock in it,”tbe marshal re lied, with an '
air which seemed to say that this coloration of
his ought to settle the matter.”

But the judge was a persistent man, and then
the quiet smile which was on the face of the
speculator inspired him to keep on.

“Are you uite certain, marshal, that you
have exhauste all your resources’i” the judge.
asked.

“ Yes,'I reckon that I am at the' end of my
rope,” the oﬁicial replied, a trace of sulkiness in
his manner, for he did not relish being thus
crossexamined. ‘

“ How about this man who runs a private de-
tective business in Helena—this Bob Chutney?”
the judge inquired. “Could he not he of some
service in a case of this kind?" ,

“0h, Ispoke to Bob; he’s an old friend of
mine,” the marshal answered. _ “ But he said he
was too busy to go into it, and then too he did
not think there was money enough in it for

him.”

“ Well, I regret that you could not do any-
thin ,” the overnor observed. .

“ h, I keep in eyes open, for something;
may turn up,” the o cial declared, and then he ‘ *
took his departure. , ,

The overnor and the jud looked at Colonel ~
Macart y, who grinned at t em in a tantalizing 2

  
we . ,
‘yAh, gentlemen, it is mighty lucky for you
two that you. are not betting men, for if you a
were I would have won a small fortune from 7
you on this thing. Didn’t I tell you themarslml . 
would not be able to do anything?” ‘ ,

    
CHAPTER XVI.

A nwonnousn. . '
Tn governor and the judge shook their heads

 
They hated to admit that the spec-ulster had
been correct in his surmise, but under the oir- '
cumstances the could not get out of it. ' - vi
“ Yes, colone , you were correct; we will have
to admit that,” the overnor said. , '
“ No doubt about t', but the poiutnow is, not
whether you Were correct or not, but what is
best to be done i” the judge remarked. -’ \
“Why, try the game that I pro ‘ _

ﬁrst place,” Colonel Macarthy replied. ,“ Raise
a pool of a thousand or ﬁfteen hundred dollars.
1 don’t know how you gentlemen feel, about
matter, but as far as I am concerned I am will~
ing to go ﬁve hundred dollars to get square with: .g
these bold and im ideiit rascals. ' ,
“I will ut up vs hundred rather than how
the scouts els escape i” the, governor declared, ‘
casting all i of prudence to the winds, so on-
raged was he w en be ,reﬂected that he hadnot 3
might!
governorof the Territory, a man who he an
extremal opinion of himself. badnot anl
been rob , but really made a laughing-stow; '
of by out of miserable, thievuggrra sis. ‘ , ~

' “ I will 3 ﬁve hundred, too ore ‘ rid
Jones ex med, ins ired by the example of -
vernor. " It will an eVeriastiug disgrace
rguontensp if these miserable econ, ndrels arena}
can ht  v .

'“ HI understood. then thatwe makes a:
pool'ofﬂftcsn hundred aoiim ” memorize;

"r mm 'hiroégoimmm-
is. $oriedtho d  : 
 my, my as 1....- < _

     
"5

      
16

Old Benzine.

 
the road agents; uite a respectable sum to offer
as blood-money,” acarthy remarked.

“ Yes, but how do on pro ose to go to work?”
General Beeswing as ed. “ ou heard what the
marshal said in regard to this detective, Chut<

l

“Declared he couldn’t go into it—not money
enough, you know," the judge added.

“ Yes, but you forget that we are going to
more than double the reward, put fifteen hun~
dred on top of the thousand, you see,” the col-
~onel observed. “And then to aman like Bob
Chutney it makes a vast difference whether he
does business with men like ourselves or with a
man like Marshal Hendrix.”

“ Ah, yes, there may be something in that,”
the governor observed.

“ It is an old saying. you know that two of a.
trade seldom agree,” the judge remarked.
“ And I suppose that the adage up lies to thief-
catchers as well as to men in other iues of busi~

“I will arrange an interview with Chutney

‘ to-night at his oﬂice,” Colonel Macarthy said.
" We want to keep this thing uiet, so we will

go to Bob’s ofﬁce to-night un er cover of the
dsgkuess, and then no one will be the wiser for

“That idea is a good one, I think,” the gov-
ernor observad, after reﬂecting upon the matter
, for a moment.

r I“ Yes, I should say so,” Judge Jones coin-
cided. .

“Very well, then I will meet you here at
eight to-night,” the speculator said. So the
matter was arranged, and the conference came
to an end.

That evening, prompt to the minute, the col-
onel made his appearance, and found General
Beeswing and Judge Jones waiting for him.

‘ It is all right!" he announced. “Chutney
is waiting at his oﬂice to receive us.”

“Ahal he is going to take the case. then?”
the WVGI‘DOI‘ exclaimed.

“ ell, no, I cannot exactly promise that,”
the colonel replied. “Chutney is an extremely
careful man, and he always wants to be sure of
his ¥nund before he goes ahead."

‘“ hat is natural and prudent,” the judge
comments-l. . .

“I have alwa s understood that he was an
extremely carefu man,” the governor observed.

“ He ‘5 business from the word gol” Colonel
Macar y declared. “His idea is to have us
three come down there and talk the matter
over; then if in his judgment there is a chance
for him to do anything, he will go ahead.”

, “A decidedly diiferent way of doing business
from that followed by Marshal Hendrix,” the
judge remarked. “He undertook the commis-
sion at'once, and was all brag and bluster about

7 what he was going to do, and the result was an
utter failure. " r

” Well, Chutney will not promise success, and
he will not go into the thing unless he thinks

that there is a ﬁghting chance, as a lawyer
would say.” the colonel replied.

The three then proceeded to the omce of the
.-detective, which was only a short distance
away.

It was on the second story in an oﬂice build-
' , ‘lng, and when the party entered they found the
detective waiting for them.

Robert Chutney, at the time of which we
" write, was universally recognized as one of the
I abletst menin the detective business in the N orth-

wes .

He was a man of forty, or thereabouts, mus-

- cularly built, and with a. ﬁrm, determined face.

‘ A quiet, rather soft-spoken man, who. with

his peasant countenance frin ed by a bushy

brown beard and lit up by a r of keen gray
eyes, looked more like the proprietor of some
stock ranch than the keencst man-hunter west

of the Rock Mountains. r .

Neither neral Beeswing nor Jud 9 Jones
had evermet the detective, so Colonel acarthy
introduced the pair, and the manhunter ex-
pressed hls pleasure at making the acquaintance
‘of two such distinguished gentlemen.

The governor roceeded at once to business.

a , “I presume t at Colonel Macarth has an-

lightened on in ardto the situa on,” Gen-

eral Bees ng rema ed.

_ . “He gave me a general idea of the subject,”
3 the detective replied.

. ’ “ Are (you acquainted with the particulars 0!

., the case Jud 1'9 Jones asked. ’

' “Yes, I thin so: that is if the accounts pub-
Illhed' in the daily newspapers can be relied
upon.” Chutney answered. .
“The accounts were perfectly correct!” the
‘ governor declared. “The rs interviewed
. all three of us, and as they were fellows

garish rest assured that theygot the de-

' NW Hendrix harbeen at work on the
case for the last ten days,” Judge‘Jones ob-‘.
served. ‘lBut, he has been obli tokeepthe,
v‘thii‘s'g up, although in the n nghe felt ~

conﬁdent that he won d have very ttle

' ' rascals."
he v0 ' l .v

' 9’2“. Iknewtbat Mamba! Hendrix hadron

to work to run ,the dorm-tor“

  
“ He repeated tone that you said you did not
care to go into the matter—you were too busy,
and there was not money enou h in the affair
for you,” the governor remal‘ker .

“That is true, and I will say further to you,
in conﬁdence, gentlemen, that I did not care to
do business with Hendrix, although the marshal
is a friend of mine, and I haven’t anything
against him, but in a case of this kind he would
expect me to do all thelwork, while he would
try to grab the glory, and the cash, it it was a
success.”

The visitors nodded; they were satisﬁed that
this view was correct.

“Now, a thousand dollars, entlemen, isn’t a
very large sum of money and did not feel that
I could divide with Hendrix, for after paying
expenses there would not be enough left to at-
ford to give any one a. share.”

Again the others nodded.

“ hen, I did not agree with his ideas about
the matter,” the detective explained. “It was
my opinion that it Vi ould be no easy job to catch
these outlaws; he thought differently, and I was
quite willin to let him go ahead and try what
he could do. ’

“,It is his belief, now, that the gang has been
disbanded and the men have ﬂed, each in a
different direction,” General Bees wing re-
marked.

“ What ives him that impression?” Chutney
asked, evi ently surprised.

“ He argues that after making such a good
haul from us, and knowing that we would be
apt to kick up a big time about it, the fellows
would come to the conclusion the country would
be too hot to hold them.”

“Nonsense!” the detective exclaimed. “The
men only got about three hundred dollars
apiece, and with rascals of their character three
hundred (106an amount to anything. Men of
the stamp of these road-agents would get rid of
a triﬂe like three hundred dollars in a single
spree. If it was three thousand now, there
might be some chance of their scattering."

‘ You think that the gang still exists?” the
judge asked.

“ I see no reason to believe that it does not,”
the man-hunter replied.

“ Neither do I l" Colonel Macarthy exclaimed.
“ And I do not take any stock in Marshal Hen-
drix’s supposition. In his case the wish was
father to the thought. He could not'ﬂnd any
traces of the outlaws, and so, in order to excuse
himself—to give a good reason for his ill suc-
cess, he declars that the men have ﬂed from the
Territory.

“ Now, we three are in earnest about this mat-
ter,” the colonel continued. “It his personal
one with us. We want these rascals captured
and we havo made up a purse of ﬁfteen hundred
dollars, which we are Willing, to pay to you, if
you can succeed in running them down: this is
three hundred dollars a man, and in addition,
mind you, to the thousand dollars offered by the
governor herein his public proclamation; then
we will allow you a liberal sum for exp( uses in
advance, no matter whether you catch the men
or not.” ‘

“ Well, gentlemen, I must say that your prop-
osition is a. liberal one, and I am willing to ac-
cept the job.” Chutney replied, immediately.

‘ You think there is some chance then, of
catching the men?" exclaimed General éeeswing,
ea er y.

gOh, yes; this is not the ﬁrst'time I have
heard of the Flour—sack Gang.” the detective re-
marked. “ They began o rations about a year
ago, but they were a bun red miles to the north
0 the trail Where they held you gentlemen up.
I have a man now in the region where I think
this band have their headgarters. I did not
send him up there to. spy on see particular out-
laws, but I received word from the East—from
my correspondents in the detective line-that a
certain man, for whom a big reward is oﬁered,
was supposed to have can ht refu e in this
region, and there is 9. ca in lone y mining-
camp, which would be just the place for a. man
like this one whom I want. to hide in, so I sent a
spy to the town, and while posting him in‘ w
ﬁard tothe Eastern fugitive, I warned him to
G’eep his eyes open for traces of this Flour-sack

an .

“ {Von have the machinery all in order then?”
Colonel Macarthy observed.

“ ‘Well, you may say that I have made a begin-
nin " the detective replied.

“ on will accept the commission!” the
governor asked.

“Yes, and I will do the best I can to capture
the fellows," Chutney answered.

“ And on think there is a'fair chance for
success?” udge Jones inquired.

“Oh,yes; the men have not ﬂed from the
Territory in my 0 inion and‘l would be will-
ing to make a goodj'big that that they are not
1! y mile! fromlthe point where they relieved
you gentlemen of your valuables!” the detective
asserted, positive! . “ They undoubtedly have
some refuge whic
one. and after they cleaned you out they sought
shelter there, and there they will rem in 2 until
this has and 6‘17 blows the willie-

   
“‘And as I have been pretty busy during the ‘ ; .,~ _
c .

  
they consider to be a, safe.

 
I have heard of this band, they are a cut above
the average.”

"Well, the leader of the gang was the only
one who spoke, and he seemed to be a rough
common fellow, if an opinion could be forme
from his voice and the style of his conversation,” .
the governor observed. \

“ Oh, no, you could not judge by thatl” the
detective replied, immediately. “ In a case of
this kind a man would do his best to disguise
his voice, and if he was an educated fellow, any—-
thing of a gentleman, you know, it would be his
game to appear rough, and ignorant, so as to
bafﬂe detection.”

“ There is no mistake about the fact that this
road-agent leader isa man of unusual cunning
and ability,” Colonel Macarthy declared. “ And
I should not be at all surprised if he turned out
to be a man of education. No mean, lpw, com-
mon fellow could have carried out this robbery
with the skill and adroitness that this rascal
displayed.”

‘ It was well-planned, this attack, and ex-
cellently carried outl“ the judge declared.
“ There were three of us in the coach, all well-
armed, and if we had had the opportunity could
have offered a stout resistance, but the thing
was so well-planned that we had no more chance i
to oﬂer successful resistance than if we had been i
so many schoolboys.”

“ It is always the game of these road-agents ;
to make the assault in such a manner that the k.
passengers will not have a chance to ﬁght," the
detective remarked. “ These ‘ toll-collectors,’
as they, with a ﬁne sense of humor, style them-
selves, do not want to kill anybody. The would
not be able to sin any more booty by 9 adding
blood. and if t ey took life it would be aptto
rouse the country, so they always try to arrange
the attack in such a way that the people in the
coach will see that it is useless to show ﬁght."

,“ Well, success to you!” the governor ex-
claimed and then the three took their depar-
ture.

The detective bowed the visitors out, then he
returned to his arm-chair, opened a drawer in
the desk before which he sat, and took out a
newspaper clip ing, the account of the robbery. r ;

Chutney rea the article through carefully, . ‘
then laid it upon the desk and fell to medita-

tin .

lie sat with his brows wrinkled by thought
for a good ten minutes and ‘then he struck the
call-bell on the desk. '

He listened for a moment, then struck the bell
again, this time uite sharply. I
The response w ich he expected did not come
and so, with a look of surprise, he rose and
opened a door which led into an interior room,
and there, on a sofa, fast asleep, lays. power-
fully-built. dissipated appearing, yet good-lka

big man of thirty or thereabouts.
‘ Hello, George!” the detective exclaimed. .
The man started up, rubbed his eyes and
looked con fused.
“‘What‘s up, eh?" he cried.
=“ I want you; that is all.”
“ Blessed if I have not been sound asleep!” the
other remarkedz, yawning.
aswo jilmims' 'th ltl k t ‘
e , was up an is its poeropar
about all last night,” the man explained?

4m

 
,1. “Thu-anw,“ puss.» A <

.,._,g_..,.;.

,0,»

3;“, we, we a»... r

day, I have not had a ance to get any rest,”
and he rose as he spoke, and followed [Chutney
into the front oﬂice.
“Sit down; I have a job for you," Chutney.
said, as he resumed his seat in the arm-chair.
The other complied with the request. 7 ' r 4 ,_ ,
“Are you familiar with this road ent busi- .  Yr
nasal" and he passed the newspaper c ipping to , r
the other. . ' v»
The new-comer was known as George Haver-
land; he had been on the police force of Helena,
and by the skill be displayed in capturing some
bold and skillful law-breakers had cometo be
regard as having decided abilities in the den,
tective i no. Havin difﬁculties with his om-
cers, he had resign from the police force and .
found employment with Bob ('- hutue , who , , ’-
would have rded him as an eme y valu— ,
able man if it ad not been so di cult to_ keep
him straight, for Haverland was a hard drinker,
and also much given to card- laying.
“ Oh, yes,” Buverland rep ied, as be cast his
eyes over the account of the robne . “ I read
of the aﬂair at the time it he pe and I had
a talki. tots, wiptlaMitiﬁmal Hen rix dig? it; He
went n ca re 9 robbers, on w.
The detective nodded. « y ' ,
“ He wanted me to take a hand’ in the nine,” w.
the other continued. .“Butl know Bil Hen-
drix like a- book, and no man of his stamp can
fool me for a cent! Besides, I owe 'him a
dge, on account of the old'police business.
I it had noteboen for him I never-would have
left the force. He worked ms in an un—
derhand manner all the time. He does not
think I am swans of that fact; but I am." And
if I had gone into the thing, he would have 92- .-
pecred me. to dwell the work; hutsyou can bet .
all you are wort he would not have been will-
ing tortgive me anything like a fair share of the
reap“); so I wouldlp’t‘gén will:a . . , -
> V» , mm as v o.
1W _ bu thro

  
Old Benzine.’

.c:.._...~-.7.‘...c...,_l....f:-94........ ~....s....,~..... ,  ;.- . 

   
17

 
do an thing with it,” Chutney explained. “ And
in ad ition to the thousand dollars that General
. Beeswiug offered in his published proclamation,
the three who were robbed are willing to pay as
much more to capture the road-agents."
“ That is a good oifei'l”
l “Yes, it is worth trying for, and I thought
’ you might be able to do something with the
case.

“ Oh, I will go right at it!” Haverland an-
nounced. “ Doing busmess with you is a differ-
ent matter from going in with that rascal of a
Hendrix! I can just tell you that I am not the
man to put a dollar in his wa l”

“ I don’t blame you,” the detective remarked.

“ And now about this case,” Havel-land re-
sumed. “Have you got anything to go on be-
sides this newspaper account?"

“ Well, not much,” Chutney replied. “ Only
» a few ideas of my own which may not amount
; to anything. I have had my is es on this Flour-
sack Gang ever since they egan operations
about a year ago, for I had a notion that they
1 might ﬂy at high game some time so as to give
me a chance at them. Of course until somebody
offered a good, big reward for the destruction of
- the gang there was no use of my troubling myself
K about them, as I am in this business for money
and not for glory."

“ Certainly, that is a sure enough fact!”
Haverland declared. “Glory is all very well,
but it does not gch a man his bread and butter
to say nothing of his whisky,” and then the
speaker grinned as though he thought he had
made a witty remark.

“Old man, I don't want to lecture you. but
you would be a deal better oi! if you would let
lwhisky alone," the detective remarked, in a kind-

little impatientl . “I am keeping as straight
as a string now. ’,
“ I am glad of itl" Chutney declared. “ I do
7 not know ii man in this section who could rlo one-
: 4 half as well in the detective line as you, if you
‘ would only take care of yourself.”

“ Well, I am going to do it in future; I shall
not make any more bad breaks: you can rest
assured of that.” ~

“Just you stick to it and you are a made
man. But to return to our mutton. As I told
you. I have been keeping an eye on this Flour-
sack Gang ever since I first heard of them; they
have operated to the north of the Big Belt
Mountains, but within striking distance of that
range, until this last operation, and from that
fact I conjectured that it was likely their head-

uarter’s was situated somewherein the Big Belt

inge.

“ Yes, that appears to be probable,” the other
observed, reﬂectively.

“ And this last exploit, the scene of action be-

ing to the south of the Big Belt, yet within easy_

reaching distance of the mountains, conﬁrms me
in m impression.” ~

“ reckon you have not made any mistake
dbout the matter!” Hayerland exclaimed, with
an air of conviction. r ‘

“ Now, thenext question is—supposing that
we consider it is settled that the an have their
5 headquarters somewhere in the ig elt Moun-
tains—whereabouts in the Big Belt country
shallrwe look for the lurking place of the
, an a
v ,1 g “in, now you have arrived at a mighty dif-

l ﬂcult pointl” the other ' declared, with a wise

: shake, of the head. “ There’s a deal of country

, in the Big Belt Range”, _ _

 “Well, from the facts in my possession I feel

i: pretty certain that the gang are located on e

 eastern side of the range: and toward the nort -
ern part,” Chutney remarked. _

“ but narrows the ﬁeld considerably.”

“ Yes, it certainly does. Now, my experience
with gangs of this kind, which only operate
every now and then,,two or three months per-
“e hops between the times ic'thct the play honest

citizens when not on t a road. ey are not

. like regular robber gangs who do nothing but

’ plunder. These fellows, apparently, only strike
 when tapers ls a. chance to secure a good haul of

 
,. “ hot is so,” Haverland assented. :
' “ 1 am well posted in regard to the country to
' e the east of. the Big Belt Rap 9, as I have, been
through it u half-Hit)an 3! GI,” the detective
remarked.
and none of them amount to .anythin , for 8].
though there is plenty of precious meta s in that
neighborhood, at the c is I) located that
~ , it takes about i t is worth to get hold of it.”
. ', it Yes. 1 know 0 eight or ten camps that have
* started in with a boom in that locality, but every
. one of them about has petersdout.” -
1,, '“ Yes. I only know of a few that have men-
‘ ‘ aged to hold on. and toonc of tbcmin particular
my attention has been attracted as being a
likely place for a gang like thicFlour-snck band
to take refuge," Chutney remarked. “ It is a
local camp situated own up in the mountains
‘ -~ and rs about as him a reputation as any
.. - ' town that I know ofin Montana.” , .
“ Well, I ain‘not posted in regard to that see-

tion.”.Haverlcnd clues-veil. .
. “This camp to which I refer is
 Gimand is

noted as being 

\‘y

 
l

inﬁll

_ ‘ \

y way. ‘
“ Oh, that is all right!” Haverland declared, a

“iii you sent your letters here there might be a
e

" There are only a few settlements,

 
men who are fugitives from justice, and the
place is located in so wild a region, and is so
hard to get at, that no sheriff has over yet dared
to attempt to make an arrest there.”

“Isee. I have heard of such camps before.
The inhabitants would ﬁght like a lot of wild-
cats if any effort was made to arrest a man in
the town.”

“ Yes, for the majority of them are all in the
same heat; and then the countrym the neghbor—
hood of the camp is so wild am rugged, that if
the man who was pursued had a warning of the
approach of the ofﬁcers, so that he could secure an
hour’s start, the chances are a hundred to one
that he could not be overtaken.”

“ Yes, and then it would cost a heap of
money, tool” Haverland exclaimed. “ Why, it
would spoil the looks of two or three hundred
dollars to make a trip up in a region like that
with a force big enough to do anything.”

“That is true, and unless the man who was
wanted was of great importance no one would
be likely to go to the expense.”

“ No, I should say not."

“ You can see that such a camp as this would
be just the one for a gang like the one we are
after, to select for a. headquarters."

“ That is a fact."

‘_‘ Now, my idea is for you to assume adis—
guise and go to this Ricaree City; give out that
you have been obliged to cut and run from some
Eastern point on account of having got into
trouble; that will be a good excuse, ou know,
for your coming to the camp. The D oodhounds
were in obese and you had to ﬁnd some refuge
where they would not be apt to discover you."

“,Oh, don’t on fear but what I will get up a
tale which wxﬁ fool the smartest of them 1" Hav-
erlund declared, in a knowing way.

“ Smithville is the nearest town, and I will
make arrangements with a party there whom I
can trust to look after my mail, so it will be
easy for you to run over to Smithville and make
your reports. Just drop a. letter in the post-
ofﬁce there addressed to Robert Ney, Smitbville,
and my agent will look after it, for as I shall be
on the go pretty much during the next month,

ay in my getting them, for I am going to
White Sulphur Springs, and then up to the
north, to the east of Ric-area City, and the let-
ters, if they came here, would have to just double
back on the route, while I can post my Smith-
ville, agent so that he can forward directlyto
me. '

“ All right! You can depend upon my smell-
ing out the game if they are up in that region.”

“ YOu will need some money for expenses,” the
detective said, producing his wallet.

“ Oh, no, I am all right; 1 am well heeled!”
and Haverland pulled out a big roll of hills,
which he ﬂourished in a triumphant fashion.

Chutney looked amazed. ,

“ Well, you. certainly are in funds!” be ex-
claimed.

“ Yes, you can bet your sweet life that I did
not lay poker all last night for nothing i"

“ ortune evidently favored‘you.”

“Oh, I played in big luck!”

“ There is nothing more to be said, as far as I
can see,” the detective observed, reﬂectively.
“ If you can’t ﬁnd any traces of the Flour-sack
Gang in Ricaree City, you might try some of the
other camps in that region.”

“ I will! But I say, wouldn’t it be a good idea
to put another man on with me?” Haverinnd
suggested. . .

“ Another man?” Chutney asked, in surprise.

“ Yes; don’t you think that two men would do
better than one?" >

" Oh, no, I hardly think so, and the I don‘t
know any one who would ﬁll the hill just at
present.”

“ Well. the idea occurred to me, and so I
thou ht I would mention it.”

_“ at is all right, of course, I am glad you
did. I always welcome suggestions from a
pan like yourself even if I am not able to act on

em. .

“You can expect to hear from me in a week
or sol” Haverland declared, and then he took his
do rture. .

hutney looked after him for a few moments,
a. thoughtful expression on his face.

“I have not anythinﬁlt‘o go on, of course, but
my instinct tells me t at there is something
wrong here,” he said, after turning the matter
over in his mind for quite a while.

‘ “ What sug estod the utting on of another
man to him? 5 it possi is that he was pinyin
’possum, and was not sleeping soundly when
called himl

“ I mentioned to the governor that I lied
already at a man on the case. Did he overhear
me say t at, and was his suggestion that'I put
on another man intended to draw me out—to in-
duce me to tell him that there was an agent of l
mine already in Ricaree Cifyi ,-. ,

“ It has a mighty enable one look!” the detec-
tive exclaimed after a pause, and with a decided
shake of the head. “And the more I think of it,
the greater becomes my impression that there is
something Wrong about the matter. , i V

“ And the big roll of hills too that he showed. ‘

 
'dicated. In it sat a roughly-dressed man, with

paid said I oculd= wait in the inner clues, as he
expected the parties to call in a. short time, col

 
I doubt it he got that roll inn poker game, for-
hciccnctoriouslypoor Morgana! 

In]? ' /

  
‘ .

    
V'jult‘cbcuttwcnty mlnutasthcpcrtiet

    
ﬂeeced by the card-sharps, for gambling is his

pet weakness, and he is not half as good a game-

ster as he believes himself to be. ‘
“ What then is the solution of this riddle?" *
And the detective pondered long over the ‘

question.
“ Is the Flour sack Gang right here in Helena,

and have they bought up Haverland so as to be

on their guard against any attempt to detect

them? Upon my word, it lookalike itl
I‘I think I will have to take an active part in

this affair myself. Set a thief to catch a thief

and employ one detective to watch nnothorl

If Haverland has sold me out I will make it cost

him dearly 1”
And the way that Chutne uttered the sen-

tence proved that he meant w at he said.

CHAPTER XVII.
soLn our.

WHEN Haverland reached the street after ’
leaving the detectiVe’s ofﬁce, he chuckled in a ’
wilily which indicated that he felt decidedly
30 y.

“ I reckon that I did that job up in first-class ,
stylel”he muttered as he proceeded duwuthc Ir.
street. “Bob Chutney is about as smart as t 

%

 
they make ’em—that is, in his own opinion,” he
added with a sneer, “ but I reckon I am a leetle
ahead of him on this heat!" ' -- V,

And now Baverlcnd laughed outright. 

“ Smart as he is, I have (it the deadwood on '
him this time, and no mistn el”

As he uttered this boast he turned aside from
the main avenue and proceeded down a narrow
side street, but after going on for ﬁfty feet he -
suddenly darted into a dark doorway. - 

Concealed in the shadows he waited. , 

“I never take any chances ina thing of this ‘- '
kind,” he muttered. “ I think I have succeeded
in fooling Chutney in the most complete man-
ner, but there is no telling. He may have smelt
a mouse; and if so the odds are big that he will
put a shadow on my track—maybe he might do
alittle of the spy act on his own account, but
neither he nor t e smartest shadow that ever
tracked a man will be able to follow me!”

For a good ten minutes Haverland remained
hidden in the doorway, but his suspicions were
not veriﬁed. -

He was not followed—no spy was on his track.

When he thought sufﬁcient time had elapsed
he came forth from his hiding-place and pro-
ceeded on his way.

But in order to “ make assurance doubly
sure ” he turned twice on his tracks, to that
even the cleverest spy would have been lnamed,
and took a most roundabout course tohis ob-
jective point, which was a small saloon on the
outskirts of the town, a noted resort for men
whose characters were not good.

At the back of the saloon were three small
rooms ﬁtted up for the accommodation of card-
parties, and many a “ pigeon ” had been enticed
into one of these apartments. plied with drugged
1i nor and then cheated out 0 his money. , '

qﬂaverlaud nodded in a familiar way to the .
barkeeper as he entered, and inquired:

“Any one been asking er me?”

“Yes, there is aaparty in the ﬁrst room,” the «
barkeeper answer . r '

The detective proceeded to the apartment in— , '

 
lon black hair which hung down to his neck, .
cowgbo fashion, and a swarthy face the lower . '
part 0 which was covered with a short, thick, , ,
black beard. '

He nodded as Haverland entered. I

The detective closed the door carefnll hehin
him and tookin seat on the opposite si e of the ,
table from where the stranger sat.  l

“ Been waiting long?” Haverland asked.

“No, only about half an hour."

“Well, I came as soon as I could."

“ Any news?”

“ Yes, at last, but I
about tired of waiting?” ,

“ Oh, no, I am pa ient. Besides there is no ,
sense in a man we ing himself about an anal! :3;
of this kind, for al the worry in the world will
not push the aaair forward. ll there is to it --
is lfor gluon to wait until things develop the
06 V08. ‘ 1

“ That is just what they did to-ni ht,” Ham"?
land remarked. “‘ Your guess that oh Chutney
would be brou ht into the matter was correct.

“ Well, it di not require a man to be much at
a prophet to guess that,” the other replied. '

‘ T at is so, for Chutney is about the. onl ,
man in the town who makes a specialty of bus o ,
ness in the detective line, and an iody who '
knows what Marshal Hendrix is con '1 tell right
in the beginning that he would not be able to do i
anything.” '

"that was my calculation, and when the '
marshal threw the cane up I reckoned the gov-
ernor would be apt to apply to Chutney.”

“ Well, thin work just that we ,"Havor- _
land remark . “ Chutney sent wo for mettr
come up to the onion early in the evening, and;
when I at there he told me that he expected to
have it oh which he wanted me to take hold~of,a

suppose you have got

         
went into the room and sat down town“. In,
“m: “r

 
18

Old Benzine.

 
there was General Beeswing, the governor, ou
know, Judge J eﬂerson Jones and Colonel a-
earthy.”

“ The three that I expected,” the stranger ob‘
server].

“ Yes, I was on the watch, and when the
party entered the room I took advantage of the
noise they made to open the door and shove a
bit of folded paper in the crack near the bottom
of it so I can d hear every word that was said.”

“ That was a smart trick,” the other declared.

“ Oh, yes, I was not born yesterday,” Haver-
land remarked, with a. deal of complacency.

“ The governor wanted Chutney to undertake
to hunt down the Flour suck Gang, explaining
that Marshal Hendrix had give the thing up as
a bad job, and as an inducement said he would
pay fifteen hundred dollars in addition to the
thousand which he had already offered.”

The other gave vent to a. low whistle of sur-

rise.

“ Twenty-ﬁve hundred dollars, eh?” cried the
stranger.

“ That is the exact sum.”

“ Why, that is ﬁve hundred dollars apiece for
the ﬁve men.”

“ Correctl”

“Say, you could make a better thing of it to
go in to capture the men than to act with me,”
the stranger suggested, with a harsh lau'rh.

“ Yes, if I could collar the rewardEI could,
undoubtedly!” Haverlnnd declared. “ But this
offer was not made to me, it was to Bob Chut-
ney, you understand!"

“Ah, yes, and even if you did all the work,
Chutney would take half the reward,” the other
obsezved, thoughtfully.

“ You bet!” Haverland declared. “ And I
feel just this way about the matter: I would
rather slip up on the reward myself than let him
have the lion's share.”

“ Well, that is only natural."

“ I heard the whole of the convarsation.
Chutney told the party that he had had his eyes
on the Flour-sack Gang for some time, that he
suspected they had their headquarters in a cer-
tain town, and he had a spy in that town on the
watch for information. ”

“You told me the last time I met you that
you had a suspicion Chutney was up to some
game of the kind.”

“ Yes, I remember that I did, and the way I
happen to suspect that something of the sort was
going on was because Bob Chutney asked me if

could recommend any man for a job of that
kind. I was busy at the time and could not go
myself.”

“ You think he got a man than?”

“Yes, he told the governor that he had his
man on the ground.”

“Did he mention the name of the town?”

“ I don’t think he did to the governor,” the

detective replied, reﬂecting upon the matter. “ I
am not sure, but to the best of my recollection he
did not. He did to me though, afterwards.
’ “ When the party cleard out I slipped the pa-
per of the crack, closed the door, and when
Chutney summoned me he found a gentleman
about my size sound asleep upon the lounge in
the room," and then Haverland indulged in a
heart laugh.

“ ou worked the game right up to the han-
dle!” the stranger declared, admiringly.

“ Well, now, you better believe I did! Well,
to make a long story short, Chutney told me
whet the game was and wanted me to go into

“ And ou consented.”

“ You ti Bob was pleased to tell me that I
was a good man, but would he a better one if I
would only leave whisky alone i” and Haverland’s
voice was full of scorn.

“ What business was it of hisi”

“None at alll but he had to ring in a little
temperance lecture just to let me see that he was
on to my little weakness.”

“ He had better look after his own i” the other
declared.

“ Right you are! But I will get square with
the bold Bob for his lecture before I get through
With him!” the detective declared.

“ Well, to come ri hi: to the point, I accepted
the commission, and am to go in disguise to a
mining-camp in the Big Belt Range known as
Bicaree City.” and Haverland ﬁxed a question-
ing look on the stranger as he spoke.

‘ How is that, old man; is he anywhere near
the truth?”

“ Not far out of the way, for a fact!” the other
admitted.

“ Well, I reckon he wasn’t!” Haverland ob-
serVed. “ For to give the devil his due, Bob
Chutney has a pretty keen nose for scenting out
the trail in a matter of this sort.

“_He suspects that the Flour-sack Gang have
their headquarters in the neighborhood of Rica-
ree City and I am to go there in disguise.”

" But I reckon that you will not be able to ﬁnd
any traces of them?” the stranger observed with
a knowing smile.

“ No, I reckon not,” and Haverland rinned.

The stranger produced a roll of ills and
counted out a. hundred dollars which he pushed
.over to the detective.

. “ Well, really new, I didn’t expect this, for
you risked me handsomely in the ﬁrst place,"

 
but he ﬁngered the money with a loving hand

as he spoke.
“Oh, that is all right. Take it to feed the
birds with 1"

And here the conference ended.

 
CHAPTER XVIII.
A PLOT.

AND now the scene changes and we trans rt
the reader to the mining-camp of Ricaree ity
again.

A week has elapsed since the dashing rancher,
the Cowbo Dude, told his soft tale and was re-
jected by ig John Valentine’s daughter.

Since that day Gilbert Featherstone had not
been seen in the town.

The landlord wondered at his absence, but
upon questioning some of the cowboys of the
OneSquare Ranch, found that the proprietor
had not returned from his trip to the north.

Valentine had tried on a couple of occasions
to persuade his daughter that she was acting
very foolishly in not accepting the suit of the
rancher, but he found that Blanche was as ﬁrm
as a rock upon the subject.

“ Under no circumstances would I become that
man’s wife!” she declared.

The father lost his temper and reproached his
daughter in the bitterest manner, but she re—
torted fully as hotly.

“ I can go out in the world and earn my own
living!” she declared. And she further added
that she was extremely sorry she had not done
so before coming to Ricaree City.

Valentine grew alarmed and cooled down
when he found that the girl was resolute.

As far as the hotel and restaurant went, he
knew that he could not possibly get along With-
out the girl’s assistance.

Aided only by a Chinaman she did all the
work, and he knew he would have to shut up
shop if Blanche departed.

True, the hotel was not particularly proﬁtable,
still he did not want to close it up, and then, too,
he was afraid that if the girl deported while
Featherstone was gone the rancher would be apt
to kick up a row and blame him for the occur-
rence when he returned.

“ All right; you need not get so angry about
the thing,” Valentine said, in conclusion. “It
is you who ought to decide about the matter, of
course, and if you will not have the man, why,
that settles it."

The day after the rancher’s return he called
upon Big John Valentine, and the landlord re-
porlted to him the trouble he had had with the
gir .

“ She is as obstinate as a. mule!” the rancher
exclaimed.

“ She is, indeed i” Valentine assented. “ I

stopped talking about the matter, for I was'

afraid that she would clear out for good, and
then all the fat would be in the ﬁre.”

The two Were in the saioon,jhad taken seats by
the further end of the bar, and as there were no
customers present they had the place to them-
selves, and could converse freely without danger
of being overheard, if they were careful to speak
in a moderate tone. .

f‘Yes, that is true enough,” Featherstone re-

pli.

“ It would materially interfere with our plans
if the girl should clear out, but I don’t think
there is much danger of that, for I have an idea
tBhililt age is struck after this gambler—this Keen

i y.

“Oh, no, I don’t think so!” the old man de-
clared.

“ Have you kept your eyes open to see whether
the pair have met or not? ’ Featherstone asked.

“ Well, the man drops in here nearly every
evening, just as the rest of the fellows do,” Val-
entine observed, reﬂectively. “ But he doesn’t
get any chance to see Blanche then.”

- “Yes, but if he comes here for his meals he
would see her.”

“ He comes in for his dinner once in a while,
got‘regular, you know, every other day, may-

9

“ Do you think he has come any oftener during
this (past week than he used to do?” the rancher
as (e . ~

Big John Valentine thought over the matter
for a moment andthen shook his head.

“ N o, I don t reckon that he has come any
oftenel‘.”

“ But that is no sign, though, any way!” Fea~
therstone exclaimed, "impatiently. “ He need
not come here to see her, for if she goes out rid-
ing, or walking, the pair could easily arrange to
meet somewhere outside of the town.”

“ Well, the girl has not gone out any more
than usual i” the father declared. “ And
Blanche is so internally independent that if she
wanted to meet the fellow she would not be apt
to hesitate to do it right before the eyes of the
whole town.”

“ That may be so and then again it may not
be,” Featherstone 0 served. “ These girls are
queer customers, and a man never can tell how
to take their. She knows that this man is a
gambler and with her Eastern ideas she may
shrink from letting people know that she has
taken a fancy to him. ’

\. i .
.,

 
“ Yes, but do on really think she has?” Val-
entine exclaiine , quickly. “ You know there
may be no foundation for that idea.”

“ That is true, but it is my suspicion that there
is something between the two, and as a. rule I am
not very far wrong in my guesses."

“ He saved her life, i know,” the landlord ob-
served, thoughtfully. “ But then it does not
always follow that a girl falls in love with a
man even if he has done a thing of that kind.”

“ Well, it is not of any use for us to waste
time in discussmg the subject!" Featherstone
observed. “ It does not matter whether she has
fallen in love with this gambler or not. One
thing is certain: she has not fallen in love with
me, and that is the point I am interested about.”

“ That is true.”

“ I have been away a little longer than I ex-
pected, but I have kept my mind busy on this
subject, all the same, and new if you are game
to go in with me so that I can secure our
daughter I will make it worth your while, ’ the
rancher observed.

“ Of course I will do all in my power to aid
you!” the landlord declared. “I should be the
biggest kind of a fool if I allowed the whims and
fancies ofagirl, who don’t know when she is
well off, to stand between me and prosperity l”

“ That is where ybur head is level!” the other
exclaimed. “ I am not the man, you know, to
care for a bit of money when my heart is set
upon a thing!"

“ Oh, I understand that!” Valentine asserted.
“ And you are lucky enough to have plenty of
cash, so that you can back your notion with the
solid stuff!”

“Yes, and lam just the man to do it too!
l‘low, Valentine, I will make you a good, 5 hate
offer: you help me to get Blanche and will
payi you athousand dollars, cash down on the
nai l

The watery eyes of Big John Valentine glis-
tened as this tempting offer fell upon his ears.
He had not expected that the rancher would be
one-half as liberal.

“ One thousand dollars, eh?” he exclaimed in
a tone which fully expressed his delight at the
offer.

“Yes, that is the sum. I want to offer you
enough so as to make it an object for you to
help me in this matter.”

“Oh, that is perfectly satisfactory!" the old
man hastened to exclaini. “ 1 will admit that I
did not expect you would come down so hand-
somely!”

“ I can afford iti” the rancher responded with ‘

the air of a prince. “ I am not goin to stand
on a”few hundred dollars with a man ike your-
self!

“ I will do all I can for you; you can depend
upon that!" Valentine declared. “ But how do
you propose to work the game?”

The rancher cast a careful glance around, so
as to be sure that there was no one near to ever-
hear his words, then he drew his chair a little
nearer to Valentine and said, dropping his
voice almost to a whisper:

b “ Y’pu know Parson John, one of my cow-
oys .

“Yes; about the biggest drunkard and am-
bler that you have got on your place. t is
i]. wander to the boys why you keep such a fel-
OW.

“ Ah, he is like a singed cat, he is a deal bet-
ter dthan he appears to be,” Featherstone re-
p ie .

“ Maybe so," the landlord responded, in a
doubtful way. “But it is the generalimpres<
sion in the camp that he is one of the hardest
cases that ever struck the town.”

“Well, you see, you folks down here only see
the worst side of the man’s character,” the
rancher declared. “ He seldom comes to the
camp, except when he is on a spree, and when
he gets off on a time, he is a terror, I know."

‘ You bet i” the landlord exclaimed. “ And I
tell you what it is, some of the men in the camp
will clinch him some time, for the boys don’t
like the way he goes crowing round that he is
the boss ﬁghter of the Ricaree Valley, and can
cbaw ii any man in the camp.” ,

“We 1, any one who tries him on will find
that (lire is a. hard nut to crack l” Featherstone as-
serte .

“But to come back to what I was going to
say: he is called Parson John, you know.” ‘

“Yes, I s’pose that is because he always goes
smoothly shaven, and wears nothing but black;
is particular, too, to have on a b’iled shirt when
he dresses u , although he isn’t anything but a
common cow 0y; and then the way he can sling
conversation around is a caution. Why, he can
make a speech equal to any lawyer that I ever
came across!”

“ Oh, yes, there isn’t any mistake about that.
He is a man of education, and really entitled to
to the name he bears."

“ You don’t mean to say that be has been a
person?” Valentine exclaimed, in astonishment.

“ Not onl has been, but he is one now,” the
rancher dec ared‘.

“ You don’t mean it?”

“ It is a fact! no mistake about it!” Feather-
stone replied. “ He has never been unfrocked, as
the saying is—that is, never deposed from the
ministry.”

._—-—

 
Old Benzine.

 
19

 
“ Well, Parson John is a. healthy minister, I
must say!”

“ Yes, the wildest, devil may—care cowboy
on my ranch is a minister in good standing.”

“I don’t understand how that can be!” Val-
entine exclaimed, puzzled.

“ The explanation is simple enough. His
father was a. minister and he was educated for
the aims calling—lie isa college-bred man, and
in due time he got a church in a small town.
He was always inclined togo of! on sprees at
irregular intervals, but when he felt one of
these like coming on he had sense enough to
make some excuse so as to get off, then he hur-
ried to a big city and went in to paint the town
red.”

“It was a wonder that he wasn’t found out i”
Valentine declared.

“ He never was, as it happened, but on one
of these sprees he chanced to get into a row in a
low drinkiu saloon and in the ﬁght a man
was killed. he resumption is that the person
is responsible for is death, although he will not
admit it, but he acknowledges that the evi-
dence pointed so strongly to him that he did
not dare to remain and face it out, and as he
was afraid of being traced if he went back to
the village where his church was located he
ﬂed to the West and became a cowboy.”

“ Yes, and as Wild a devil as can be scared up
anywhere!" the landlord declared. .

“That is so,” the rancher assented. “Wen.
that is the story of Parson John. The mysteri-
ous disc ipearnuco of tho young minister created
a deal oi wonder in the little town where he had
preached, and he had the pleasure of reading the
comments, that the affair excited, in the columns
of the Eastern newspapers which he rocured in
the West. He was supposed to have. allenu Vic-
tim to the thugs of the great city, or else to have
been seized by a sudden ﬁt of insanity, during
which he had wandered away."

" And no one suspected the truth?” ‘

“ Not a soul, apparently, or if any one did the
fact was never made public. So you see Par-
son John is still a minister in good standing,
and can tie the marriage knot as hard and fast
as any dominie in the world.”

“I reckon I see what you are driving at,” Big
John Valentine observed. “ If we can contrive
to get Blanche up to your ranch, Parson John
.can marry you to her. ’

“ Yes, that is my calculation.”

“ I do not believe though that you will be able
to get .her to a to it,” the father observed
with a. doubtful shake of the head.

“ Well, Parson John is not the kind of a. man
to be particular about a little thin of that kind l”
the rancher declared, coolly. “ 8 will tie the
knot all right whether the girl is willing, or the
contrary. She will be up there on my ranch,
completely in m p war, and I don’t see how she
is going to help e If.”

‘ That is a fact,” the landlord admitted. “ And
it seems to me, the chances are big that when she
ﬁnds she is hel less she will come to the con-
clusion that she ad better make the best of it.”

“ That is my ideal” Featherstone declared.

“ The only diﬂ‘lcult thing about the matter, as
far as I can see, will be getting her to your
place.” Valentine observed, t oughtfull .

“Well, in idea was to work the B sck-cap
business on er, {out about the same as we did
on Old Benzine; t was a failure, by the way, as
far as he was concerned. I was warned, you
know, that he was a detective spy who came
here on purpose to locate one of my men, but I
reckon we got hold of the wrong man for we
oculdn’t t anything out of him.” ,

“:No don’t think there many harm in the
fellow. .the landlord observed. “ He is only
dangerous to the whisky, but he can get away
with a. lot of that.” .

“ This Black-cap business will work. I Will
think the matter over and arrange a plan. The-e
is no hurry about the matter, you know.\ Give
the girl time. to come to the conlusion that I
have given up the chase and then she will be of!
her guard.”

Valentine remarked that this was a good idea.

A few unimportant words; were exchanged
and then the rancher departed.

 
CHAPTER XIX.
A visn'on.

KEEN BILLY sat on a rock in front of his
cabin, sunning himself, and enjoying the pleas-
ure of a smoke.

_ Deep lines of ‘ thought were written on his
brow, and it was plain that his mind‘was wrest—
lin with a problem which puuled him. 3

t last he took the ruler-Wood pipe from his
lips and rested it upon his knee- ‘ ,

“ This is a very difﬁcult matter," he murmur-
ed, “ and themore I consider. it the greater I am
pgrplexed. ‘ To be or not to be,’ as I heard the

no in a play say once. ‘ ,

“ This girl is pretty—educated and accom¢
gunned, although she is not very well situated

. l

 
at present, and, in my opinion,”  s. rascal
or a  r " _i
“ I tbcoid man suspem that I am after

  
daughter, from the‘wa‘y’he looks at in,»

lately, and (I am inclined to think that he does
not like it. '

“ It is equallly plain to me from the brief in-
terview that had with this Cowboy Dude on
the day the mountain lion incident occurred,
that he is after the girl and is inclined to look

lupon me in the light of a rival; if I had not been

randy for him on that occasion he would have
undoubtedly have settled my account as far as
this world is concerned.

“ Now it is solely because he thinks I am after
the girl that ho troubled himself about me. He
has never condescended to notice my existence
pefore.” And the sport indulged in a hearty
an h.

“ ow the question before the meeting is,
ﬁrst, do I ran ly care anything for this girl;
second, is there any chance for me'to win her;
third, had I ought to try for the prize if I con-
clude there is a chance?"

The‘ sharp allowed his eyes to wander vacant-

]y over the landscape as he pondered upon the
subﬂect, and it was a good ten minutes before he
s e.
“ I am sure that I like the girl better than
any woman that l have overseen; thereis some-
thing about her that has touched a. chord in my
heart which no woman ever caused to vibrate
before, and from the way she has treated me I
think that I stand a good chance to win her if I
make the effort, and now comes the most im-
portant question of all: ought I to make the at-
tempt? '

“Ah, there is the rub!” and the sport shook
his head soberly. .

“ If I win the girl she trusts her life’s happi-
ness in my hands. It rests with me to make or
mar her existence.

“ Now then, what are the chances?

“The girl is not favored by fortune now, but
she certainly will not improve her position any
by becoming the wife of a man who depends
upon his skill as a gambler for his living."

And again the sport shook his head very
soberly.

“ One thing is certain!” he exclaimed. “ If I
go in to win the girl I must make up my mind
to give up gambling. I must find some other
way of making a living, and that ought not to
be a difficult matter, when it is considered that
I have a feir amount of capital to back me.
The life is not an agreeable one, anyway, and I
shall not be sorry to get out or it.

“ Another point to he considered. If I marry
the girl and go into another kind of life I must

at out of this camp. for there isn’t any opening

ere for me; until I be safe frnm the enemies
who seek my blood ii' I go elsewhere?" '

The sport pondered over this question for a.
few moments. '

“Yes, by going down to the southward—to
NewMexwo, say,” he remarked, his face light-
ing up as though he considered that, he had
arrived at the solution of the problem. .

“ Ina new country like that, there are always
plengy of chances for an enter rising man with
a lit e capital at his back; am agood judge
of stock, and I have no doubt I could do well if
I took a ranch, and the chances that my enemies
will be able to follow and annoy me down there
are so small as hardly to be worth calculating.

“ That is my game!” And the sport spoke
spoke with ﬁrm decision now.

“ I will go in and do in best to win the girl!
I shall probably have to ght this Cowboy Dude
and his gang when he discovers what I am up to,
but I am not without friends in yonder camp,
and there are plenty of men there too, who don t
admire Featherstone and they will see that I.
get fair play. even if they refrain from taking
an active rt to help me. - 4 i

“ There re ﬁve or six good man whom I can
count on though, and with their aid I think I can
give the cowboys all the ﬁght they want if. their

one brings on a dimculty, and it is liars to
cents that he will try to play a game of bat kind
if he makes up his mind that I am after the girl
and stand any chance to get her. "

a At this point the attention ofIthe sport was at-
tracted to a man who was approaching up the
narrow trail which led to the lonely cabin.

“ Hello! that is my fat friend, Joe Bowers, or
Old Benzine, as almost everybody in the town
calls him_ on account of the enormous swallow he
has for liquor.” ' .

It was indeed the veteran bummer, and when
he arrivedat a place where he could command a
good view of. the sport, seated upon the rock, be

halted for a moment and waved his hand in a.
friendly way; the sport replied to the salutation
and than Bowers Mme on again.

When he arrived at the little level space before
the cabin he made a most elaborate bow.

“ Hail, mighty satrapl” he exclaimed, in his
ridiculous theatrical way. “ How do you sagaci-

,atol” _
“Prett well, I reckon; how are you?” the

sport re ied. . -

' i“ W , I am able to eat, and I haven’t had to

goback on my licker yet)” Bowers, responded

 
with a grin. v . -
ti i'rbatis good! -8it down and make your-sold
comfortable,”and Keene-waved his band to a

 
science and it bothers me sometimes.” Keenean

 
rock which cropped out of-tboearth a crd one,
Ltromtbeouoonwbinhhevaat. ~- ~  
“Ian‘qu mammalia‘ '

 
Excuse my French,” the veteran remarked as be
seated himself upon the rock.

“ How do . on like Ricaree City as far as you
have 0t?” eene inquired.

“ e noble dook, it is n leetle slow,” Bowers re-
plied with a solemn shake of the head.

“ Well, the boom has ended; there is no doubt
of that.”

“ Thar is a graveyard quietness about this , .
hyer town which is conducive to sad reﬂection, *
but not to wealth," the veteran remarked with > ‘
a deal of pathos in his voice. 2

“ You are about right, I reckon.”

“Yes, Ricaroe City is a nice, quiet place,”
Bowers observed, reﬂectively. “ I have been in
quieter places in my time—graveyards and sich
like,’ but I can’t say that I banker arter quite so
much peace.”

The sport laughed.

“ It is a dead-and-alive place! About the
only time there is any stir is when the cowboys _
come in.” ,' «_

“ Do they bring much wealth with them?" the v
veteran inquired in an anxious way.

“Oh, yes!” the sport replied. ‘ There is only
one gang of cowboys that come to the camp
you know, the men on the Ont-Square Ranch.”

f‘Featherstone’s place—the Cowboy Dude, as
they call him.”

“ Yes. I reckon he must pay his hands pretty
well, for some of his men seemed to have a deal
of money.”

“ That is kinder queer,” Bowers remarked.
“ For these cowboys don’t usually git very big
wa es.” . - x

“ Well, there is only a few, of them who
seemed to be so ﬂush; three or four, maybe, but
i have known them to have two or three hun—
dred apiece.”

“ Oh, you don’t sav so?” Bowers exclaimed.

“Yes, it is a. fact,” Kceiielroplied. “ I know I
am right about the thing and that there isn't ,
any mistake about the matter, for I have had ~ ‘
the good luck to clean out some of these fellow
and one particular night. I remember, that
won from a couple of them a triﬂe over six huné‘
dred dollars.”

“Ah, that was a haul, mo noble dook, worth
the makiugl” the veteran exclaimed with glis-
tening eyes. “ Would I had been thar, so I
could have had a chance for my white alley l”

“ Well, about every time the cowboys come in
for a time I succeed in getting three or four
hundred dollars out of them,” the sport ob- '.
served. “ In fact, I might sa that if it wasn’t , ~
for the cowboys I should be ol 'ged to emigrate, 
for I could hardly make a living out of the '
miners. They are good men, the most of them,

on understand, and the great majorit of the ,
boys have the richest kind of sporting lood in 1 ,
their veins, but they have not got the money to
back their game.” . _

“Oh, you betIundorstand the situation! I
hain’t been cruising ’round the camp the past ‘
week for nothing 1’

“ Of course, a man in my line of business
ought not to be troubled with such a thin use “
conscience,” the sport observed in a re active

wa . I
‘yOh, no, sich an article is mighty inconven-

ient sometimes!" Joe Bowers declared, Wither

Solemn We of the head. ’ v‘
“Well, have found it so, for! have a con."- '_

 
nounoed, gravely. “ I am a hawk; it is my 1
business to go for pigeons, and I’ought not to ',
concern myself whether the pigeonsare fat or .
loan, whet or they are lonely bachelor pigeono‘,
or father: with wives and children depending,‘
upon them.” ‘ ’

“ That is a fact. All that a true cord-ah ,
ought to know is that the men who sit down to
a game with him are arter his money and Willi.
do their level best to win it." _ . ', 

“ And so he ought to go for them without fear,
or favor." '

“ You bet! That is the game 1”

“ Yes, I know it, but I can’t work the trick in 3
that wayl” the sport declared. . .

“ You see, I know just about what these miners
are making,” he continued. “ The claims are".
panning out from two dollars to four dollars a,
day per man, and the mailority of the workmen ',
come much nearer two ollars than four, and
they have to work hard for their money, are. ,

“ Ob, es, .tlils gulch mining is no {aka I kin ;
tell 'you ’ the veteran declared. “ I ave done 3
my share of it, and you kin bet all you are-3
worth that when a man is only making day‘u.
gases of it he works mighty hard for every cent

a ti. .

‘ at is my opinion, exactly,_and I tell you
old man, it goes against my grain to sit down on
Saturda night, and in an hour or two win th
money t these men have worked hard for six
days to gain,” Keene declared, earnestly... V

‘ Ah, tbar is whar your conscience comes in,
and, pard, it is a big pull-back to a man in your“

business.” 3::

     
are right there, and I feel
right if I ha

   
“Oh. yes. on
I Wasn’t :30th p to know I
the men with whom I am plum; ‘
for whose sake they ought to save their money.
Hwagi if you" did not skin tbomuomobody
else w _d be apt to, you know,” the 
withtho air of a philosopher ' "

  
_ \

e .

 
20

Old Benzine. ‘

 
“ Oh, yes, I understand all about that!” the
sport exclaimed, impatiently. “That is the
style of reasoning that a man always employs
when he knows that what he is doing is not
right, and is anxious to ﬁnd some excuse for it,
but that sort of thing does not satisfy me at all.
I know I ought not to win the money that the
wives and children need—l know the men
rouglht not to play and lose it, for they cannot
rea ly aﬂord to indulge in any such luxury.”

“ Well, you need not play with them,” Bow-
ers observad, after turning the matter over in
his mind for a. moment. “ But then that would
not prevent them from losing their money, for
when a man wants to gamble, he kin allers ﬂnd
BEnty tonplay with him, particularly in a camp

‘ e this.

“ Oh, I am aware of that, and lately I have
been putting up a little job on some of these
men who will play cards when they ought not
to, which has worked like a charm,” the sport
declared.

x, “ How is that?” the veteran exclaimed, his
curiosity excited by this declaration.

“My plan is simple enough. I am always
ready to play with the men when they are eager
for a game, and never grumble no matter how
high they want to make the stakes, and as I am

I ahundred per cent. better player than any of
' ' them, I contrive to arrange the matterso that
' the men who can’t afford to lose, do not suffer
‘. much.”
1; “I see! you throw the game their way,” the
» , other remarked. “It is a ﬁne scheme, but it is
:1 r not business.”
 ’ “Oh, I know that; it is only amusement, and
helps to pass away the time, the sport replied.
“If it was not for the cowboys, I could not
a ' make a living in the camp.”
_ . v “The thing dOes you honor, me noble dock,
' but it is a kind of waste of time, all the same!
But from what I have seen of the town during
I my short sojourn here, I reckon you are ri ht
‘ ’bout it's being a lpoor place for sports. he
’ ﬁrst night I was are I did pretty well. The
boys reckoned, Iguess, that they had got hold of
a. ﬂat from Flatville, and they went in to skin
me. Now that was just the kind of picnic that
I liked, and so I jest hustled for all I was worth.
but I reckon I must have given ’em an awful
scare that night, for I hain’t been abletodo
anything since."
’ “There isn't much

   
ambling going on now,”
the sport observed. “ on see, it is as I tell

' ,you, the boys are poor. There are a few of
them that are anxious to tackle me once in a
while for the have a notion that Lam possessed

\ of wealth g ore, and, they fancy that it they
could get me into a big game, with luckrun-
mng their way, they could make a stake worth
having.”

“ Yes, I understand," the veteran observed
with a wise look and apotent shake of the head.
“These galoots hain’t diskivered how true the

‘ old saying is, that it is a mighty unsafe thing
tor to try to beat a man at his own game.”

“ That is true enough, but the majority of the
people in this world are very slow to recognize
the truth of that,” the sport observed.

“ By the way, speaking of these cowboys. how
often is it that they come into the camp, laden
with wealth?” Joe Bowers asked. “Once a
month, I s’pose when they are paid 01!, hey?”

‘ “ Well, never took any particular notice
“about that,” Keene repliei. “But come to
think about it, they are in the town oftener
than once a month, every other week or so, I
should so . I suppose that they do not have
any ragu ar pay-day, but get their money when
they want it. I never heard any or them say
anything about a pay-day.’
, : "And a few of them have a deal more money
‘ than the rest?"

I “ Yes, there are always two or three, perhaps
four, who are particularly well-heeled in a ﬁnan-
cial wag.” V
‘ “ Ms be the boys gamble up at the ranch and

"these galoots win their comrades’ moneyWJoe
v Bowers suggested.

f‘ Yes, that was the way I accounted for the
thing, and, {at it does not seem to be quite right
P

  
‘ either, for t men who have the money are
not as good layers as theenes whomnotso
ﬂush. I play with all of them, you know, so I
am a ggod judge as far as that goes."

“ Is t are anything crooked about the business,
 do you think 7” the veteran inquired, with a
knewlng wink.

. . “ I thought of that, too, for as I have a deal of

Idle time on my hands, I have nothing better to
do than to speculate on what goes on around me.
But I don’t exactly see where the crooked busi-
, ,ness could come in. Most certainly there
isi nothing of the kind going on up in this re-

on.
8 “ Some of the galootl might be doing a little
road-agent busine- an the made to the north or
. th of the mountains."

‘ Thereisa chance of that,of course,but I
'don‘t think‘that it is very probable.”
"Well. Bard, now I have got somthin
ﬂesh: to my mifvou, and I want you to
ve way after quite a pause. ,

t! ahead as soon u‘you likel I
l" replied. I v - ,

    
par-
race

 
stenP’tbe veteran declared, in,

 
CHAPTER XX.
BOWERB'S s'roav.

“WELL, as I was saying to you, Ir‘struck it
prett rich on the ﬁrst night I spent in the town,
and reckon from the way the thing began that
I had the softest kind of a snap, but this hyer is
an uncertain world, and you can’t ’most always,
generally, certainly tell how things are going to
pan out,” the veteran remarked.

“ You are hitting the bull’s—eye now every
time l" the sport declared.

“ Oh, yes, you hear me; it is my born that is
a-blowmgl” Joe Bowers exclaimed.

“ lVell, as 1 war sayin, it did not take me long
to ﬁnd out that this hyer camp was not one of
the places where a man ’bout my size could ex-
pect to live on quail and toast, and without hav-
ing to work hard either.”

“ That is true. The man who indulges in any
luxuries in this camp of Ricaree has got to
hustle mighty lively.”

“ I wasn’t afeared but what I could pick up
enough to get my grub, but my roosting-place
troubled me. That shark of a landlord wants
ﬁve dollars a week for a room, and that was
more than I could stand.” ,

“ You could make u better arrangement than
that with some fellow who had a cabin big
enough to put in an extra bunk]; the sport ob-
served.

“Yes, I know that. Oh, you kin bet that I
calculated all the chances!” the veteran de-
clared. “ But this b er cabin business I don’t
like. I am a solitary ird, one of the kind what
likes to gather all by himself, you know, and I
don‘t like to share my roosting-place With any-
body, for I want to be free to come and go wit -
out being obliged to answer any questions.”

“Yes, I can understand that. I should not
like to be called upon to give an account of my
movements either.”

“ Thar’s a leetle tumble-down shop built right
ag’in' the north wall of the hotel?”

“Yes, a shoemaker put that up, and he did
right well there for a while until he got to drink-
ing, and one night, in a spree, he hung himself
in the shop.”

“And his ghost haunts it, of course!” Joe
Bowers exclaimed, with a grin.

“So the yarn goos, but I for one don’t take
much stock in ghosts,” the sport remarked. ‘-‘ I
have been by the place at all hours of the night,
and I never saw anything out of the way.”

“ You did not hear the cobbler tapping away
with his hammer?”

“ Nary time 1”

“And yet there are plenty of sensible, two-
legged critters in this hyer camp who will tell

on that they have heered the shoemaker work-
ng away in the dead hours of the night, and'
some of the galoots will swear that they have
heered moans of pain coming from the house
when they were going by jest after midnight.”

“Yes, the ghost of the shoemaker going
through the hanging business.”

“ And you don’t take any stock in these hyer
bloodhcurdliug tales?” ‘

" No, I don’t!” the sport replied. “ You see I
am a nightbird, anyway, my business keeping
me out late, so I seldom start for home, when
things are running at all briskly, until the wee,
small hours of the mornin , an it there are any
ghosts traveling around case I think I would
standna good chance to see {them as the next
man.

“ Cert! that is good, sound, solid, boss-sense
every time 1” the veteran declared, with the air
of hwsage. “ And you never struck a ghost
yet .

“ N ary one.” ,

“I reckon I am in the same ﬁx, although,
pard, I have gone clean out of my way torun
across a real,\genuino spook.”

“ There maybe something of the kind, but I
doubt it, although I have heard men tell some
awful yarns about the ghosts they have seen.”

“ And I s’pose ’bont that time you think of
what that ancient sharp, Solomon, said ’bout
all n being liars?” the veteran observed.

“ es, when I hear a man spread himself on a
ghost story, I set him down as a champion liar,”
the s rt declared.

“ reckon that you ain’t ve
northwest side of the truth,”
marked with a grin. “ But I have heersd a
dozen of men in this hyer camp swear that they
have heered the ghost of the shoemaker at work.
and a few are sart'ln that they have heered
awful giIExms coming from the old shanty.” ’

“0h, have heard the voices,” the sharp re-
plied. “But I was not 1001 enoughto believe
that an unquiet spirit had anything to do with
the matter. The old placeisall out of repair,
and on'tbe nights when I heard the noises the
wind was bi h, and it was a. natural conclusion
that the wi was responsible for the'noises.
loose board moving up and down would give a
retty correct representation of the noise of the
mmer, and the' creaking of a beam might
lead a superstitious man to imagine he heard
ghostly cans.” ' ~ ’

H We
big stake that you. have got that down as ﬁne as
use kin be!" the: veteran exclaimed. “I am
like you, I don’ttnh stock l
moment

\

far from the
as Bosvers rep

    
.lars, I reckon l” the sport declared.
cost that delightful specimen of a cowboy tour

now, you would be safe in betting a:

 
‘ .OVGI‘I

shanty, I made up my mind that that air place
was jest the roost for me."

“That was a brilliant idea!” the sport de-
clared.

“ I reckon that it was prett good,” Joe
Bowers observed, modestly. “ on see, I cal-
culated that I wouldn’t have any rent to pay,
unless the ghost put in an appearance, and it
he was any kind of a reasonable ghost, I reckon
I could stand him oﬁf, and git him to hang the
thing up—tell him I would squar’ the account
when I went into the ghost busmess myself.”

“ A reasonable, business-like proposition,” the
sport remarked, gravely.

“ I reckoned so! At the back of the shop is
the woodshed of the hotel, and that j’ines the
corral, so that a feller could skirmish ’round
and git into the shanty without much danger of
anybody seeing him, it he was keertul to keep
his eyes ’bout im.”

“ Yes, I should think that could be done with-
out any trouble, particularly after dark.”

“Oh, I kin slide in there at all times by be-
ing keerfull” the veteran declared. “ I curl up
in the corner of the woodshed once in a while
foranap, so the corral man has got used to
seeing me in the neighborth and he don’t
think nothing of it. Thar’s a door in the back
of the shop which leads into the woodshed; it
has been nailed up, but I didn’t have an trou-
ble in gitting it open, and I ﬁxed it so t at no-

y would suspect it had been touched. The
place is all upside down inside, but I ﬁxed up a
roosting-place in one corner, next to the hotel
wall, and it is jest ﬁne I tell on.”

r“Yes,,Ishould imagine t at you would be
quite comfortable.”

“ And now comes the p’intl” Joe Bowers de-
clared, impressively. “ 1 hain’t been inﬂicting
this hyer long yarn on you jest for the pleasure
of hearing myself talk, you know. I am a gay
old rooster, you bet, and that is a heap of
method in my madness."

-“ Yes, any one with half an eye can see that I

you were not born yesterday,’
served.

“ Pardner, you do me proud l” the veteran ex-
claimed, with an elaborate bow.

“ The thing what I am going to tell is one of
them strange aﬂairs which go for to make a fel-

the sport ob-

. ler think that it is better to be born lucky than

rich!” Joe Bowers declared, with the air of a
philosopher.

“ Well, to my notion, there isn’t an doubt
about that l” Keene exclaimed. “ It could
have a chance, I would say, ‘ Give me the luck
and let the other fellow take the riches!"

" Me noble dock, you have got more common
sense to the uar’ inch than any man I have met
in a do 5 age ” Joe Bowers declared.

“ We , to come right down to my mutton, on
the hotel side, the old shanty hain’t got any wall,
so thar is only one thickness of boards between
the shop and the hotel bar-room, and in one of
them boards is a knot-hole, ’bout big enuﬂ! for a
man to put 'his thumb through, and a teller in
the shanty by putting his eye or ear to the hole,
kin see or hear what goes on in the saloon."

“ This is rather singular,” the sport observed,
thoughtfully. “Very odd indeed l”

“ Pard, things are coming your way jest as if
you was a—mounted on the box of Fortune’s car-
riage and was a-driving the car of Fate all alone
by yourself!” the veteran declared, solemnly,
and then he proceeded f0 relate all the particu-
lars of the conversation between Bi John Val-

entine and Gilbert Featherstone, t e Cowboy;

Dude, not a single word of which had escaped
his attentive ears. '
Keene listened with the greatest possible inter-
est, and when the veteran hummer had ﬁnished
the recital, remarked:
“ Your happening to overhear this conversa-
tion was a rare piece of luck and no mistake!”

“ Sport, you are safe in bettin on'wbat I say '
every time, and that is the kin of a hair-pin I

gin! “gee Bowers exclaimed with a great deal of
n . '

a I never had a very good opinion of Big John
Valentine, but I did not think he was as great a
rascal as this proves him to he.”

“ Oh the leetle thousand dollars collared him
for all be was worth l”

“ And for that sum he is willing to sell his
daughter—his own ﬂesh and blood l" Keene ex-
claimed in a voice full of contempt. “ Hanged
it he isn’t worse than a negro-driver!” .

“ That emery cuss would sell his soul, I reckon,
for a thousand good checks, if he could ﬁnd any-
body Iool sand to make the otter!” the veteran
declared. .

u I know this Parson John well—and he knows
me—to the tune of a good ﬁfteen hundred dol-
“ For it has

that sumto enjo the pleasure of my society

"99°13 if" “3221.? ""5 “‘““"mgu but people
_e .s eyou come

must bade ’33: 1" Joe Beware rem 

“He is one of the cowbo who is always

ﬂush, andlas he labors under .t e impression that

he knows how to play poker, and is not afraid to,

back hlminions with his money whenever be
“$5”
I ‘him at five or six 11
weliave met.”

      
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“ Oh, if I could only run up ag’in’ such a soft
snap l" the veteran exc aimed in longing accents.

“ Yes, it is a soft snap, for the man is no
player, although he thinks he is a terror,” the
sport remarked. “ The last time I beat him he
was retty sore owr it, and I fancy we would
have ﬁnd some trouble, for he had_ just about
liquor enough on board to make him ugly, but
some of his friends got him away.”

“ He is a pretty bad sort of a galoot, I
reckon.”

“ Yes, an unmitigated scoundrel, even if he is
a doniinie.”

“ Do you believe that yarn?” Joe Bowers.
asked with ashrcwd expression upon his weather-
beaten lace. “ Don’t you think it is probable
that this hyer Cowboy Dude Jest made up the
tale so as to persuade Valentine that he was
going to marry his daughter all righti"

“ No, I reckon the story is true enough. The
fellow is a man of education. and has been well
brought up; there is no doubt about that, and I
should not be at all surprised if he has been a
minister,” the sport answered. -

“ I hnin't run across him since I struck the
camp.” ,

“ No, he has not been to town for eight or ten
days now, but it is about time that he put in an
appearance. The last time I played with him
he said that he would be after his revenge in a
week or two."

“That means that he is going to give you a
chance to skin him some more!” Joe Bowers
exclaimed with a grin. .

“Yes, that is about the English of it. Of
course, I said that I would be glad to accom-
modate him at any time.”

“ Oh, you betl” the veteran exclaimed.

“ One of the cowboys‘ on the One—Square
Ranch has taken a great fancy to me. I helped
him out of a scrape one night when he got in a

uabble with some of the miners, and as he was
a l alone, he would probably have suffered if I
had not come to his assistance. He is a good
fellow and very anxious to be of service to
me.
“ He came to the camp the other day on pur-
poseto warn me that mi ht expect to have
trouble with Parson John if was lucky enough
to win any more money from him, for John was
very sore over his numerous defeats, and had
said at the ranch that if he failed to beat me at
cards the next time he had a bout with me, he
would tryvhow skillful I was With lists or
weapons.’

“ The bold parson is a regular ﬁre-eater, chi”

“ Well, if he wasn’t just talking for fun, his
words would seem to indicate that is thought he
was ya better man than I am in the ﬂsticuﬂ
line.

“ Excuse my curiosity, me noble dock, but
how do you pan out in that biz?” Joe Bowers
asked, surveying the athletic ﬁgure of the other
with the eye of an expert. -

“ A man is not always the best jud e of what
he can do, but parties who have t ed the on
have expressed themselves as being perfect]
satisﬁed that I was able to take care of in as f
with either ﬁsts or pistols,” the sport repli .

“You weigh ’bout a hundred and seventy, I
reckon?” the veteran observed, in a calculating
wa .

“yNearer a, hundred and eighty," Keene re-
plied. “I am a little deceptive in my appear—
ance and strip much bigger than I look.” ‘

“I do not doubt it; have seen men jest like
you afore, and you are in good condition, too
no useless fat, all bone, muscle and good soli
ﬂesh] I reckon now that if you went in strict,
training for a ﬁght, or a. foot-race, you needn’t
git rid of more than ten ounds.”

“ No, I do not believe t t I would lose more
than that.”

“ And a man who scales a hundred and seventy
is big enou hto ﬁght for the chain ionship of
the orldl Joe Bowers declared, wit the bear-
ing of an oracle.

“ Well, as a. rule, 1 do not think that it is wise
for a man in my line of business to get into any

rsonal diﬁlculties,” the sport remarked, slow-

y“ That is a fact,” the other assented. .

“ And so I have alwa 3 made it a rule to
keep out of all quarrels i it was possible to do
so without showing the white feather, and
reall running away.”

“ b, that would not do, of course, for if a
man once did that every galoot in the town
would try to impose on him” Joe Bowers de-

clared. -

“-I have been thinking a ood deal over this
Parson John businesl ever I nee I got the warn-
ing that he had it in his? mind to make trouble
I will admit that I have been de-
cidedly puzzled to know what to do, but since’I

' have heard your story I have been able to‘ make

up my mind,” and an air of ' determination ap—
red on the face of the sport as he spoke.
pa:Ioe Bowers indu in a chuckle. _
“Me noble (look, reckon that you are going
to showParson John that you are ten hand
with your ﬂats, as yen are w a deck of

k rdsl” , _
es Yes, that is n to be my little game!” the
 in determination. “ If tug

5 .

' liedw'
Smuggsaqubm with me he willﬁnd the

/ .

 
am ready to accommodate him, and so quickly,
too, that it will be apt to make his head swiml‘

“That is just the kind of talk that I like to
hear, and when the picnic takes place may I
be thur to see it! I am willing to go me ducats
on a” reserved seat, way up in the bald-heads’
row

“And if Parson John has the grit to stand up
and face the music. after I get through with
him it is possible that he will not be in a con-
dition'to perform a. marriage ceremony for some
time.

” And that will hinder Featherstone’s little
scheme.”

" That is my idea."

“Well. I must be off now,” and Joe Bowers
rose. “I will keep my eyes open and if I beer
anything new I will post you; so long]

And away the veteran went.

 
CHAPTER XXI.
COMING TO AN UNDERSTANDING.

THE sport watched Bowers as he descended
the hill until he was bid from view by the houses
in the valley, then the thoughts which were oc-
cupying his mind translated themselves into
words.

“ I never took a greatideal of stock in religion,”
he remarked. “ That is, I never went to church
much, or made any study of the thing, and at
no time in my life, from my boyhood upward,
have I ever associated with religious people, but
I must admit that there seems to be a heap of
truth in some of the old scriptural sayings; take
that one, for instance, about casting your bread
upon tho waters. -

“ Now see how that has come out in this case.
This man, Old Benzme, was a stranger to me; I
was not under the slightest obligation to extend
a helping hand to him, unless I acted on the idea
that all men were brothers, and that brothers
were in duty bound to help one another.

“ Well, I did go on that notion. I advanced
him money, although I knew the chances were

big that I would never See the color of my coin '

again.
“ Now, mark the result! Thanks to that little
transaction I have bound the man to me as with
books of steel! Had I not put him under obliga-
tions to me I should not have known anything
about this plot which the Cowboy Dude has con-
cocted. '

“ Most surely’ the bread which I cast 11 n the
waters has returned to me a hundred-f0 d, and
it is the same way with the cowboy whom I be-
friended. If I had not taken the trouble to inter-
fere in his behalf. I should not be posted in re-
gard to Parson J ohn’s determination to make
trouble for me if I am lucky enough to win his
money the next time we play poker, and the
ﬁldds are about a hundred to one that I will heat
- m.
“ The timetlly warning puts me on my
I know one what is before me, and

ard so
will be

on the watch or Parson John, so that it will not

be possible for him to take me by surprise, and
if is voice is for war, before We get throu h
with the affair I think I will be able toshow hgn
that he is not such a holy terror as he imagines
himself to be.” .

Then the sport fell into a ﬁt of abstraction
and for fully ten minutes was silent, his brows
contracted and his eyes ﬁxed 0 the ground.

“ By Jove!" he exclaimed at 9.315. “I do not
really know what to do about this girl matter.
She ought to know of this plot, for it is not right
to allow her to remain in ignorance. But then
it is a delicate task to reveal to a daughter that
her father is a. rascal of the ﬁrst water, and
read to sell her to the highest bidder. The
rave ation ought to be made though.

I" And now. another question arises. Will the
girl have conﬁdence enou h in me to believe. the
tale? Will she not have ith in her father?

“ This is a very difﬁcult matter to decide, but
to my mind one thing is certain, and that is I
ought to let the girl know what is going on.

‘ If she does not choose to believe me, it will
be unfortunate, but it is my duty to speak and
speak I will!” /

And just as the s rt pronounced these words
he caught sight of lanche Valentine.

She was mounted on her pony and was riding
along the trail which led to the eastward, the
way to the outer world from Ricaree Valley. .

Keene watched the girl as she came on, the
pony loping along at a pace but little better
than a walk. . i

As Blanche came to the spot where the little
foot-path, which led to the lonely cabin of the
sport, branched of! from the main trail, she cast

'a glance up at the hillside, and as she, perceived

the sport, smiled and bowed. .
ﬂ Keene rose to his feet and returned the saluta-
on.
The girl contin on down the-trail.
The sport came to a sudden determination.
~ ‘_‘ By taking a short cut through the foot-hills
I can intercept her l’l‘ he exclaimed: “And i
will do it tool Since 1 haVe determined to speak,
the more quickly I do it, the better, and than the
affair will be 03 my mind I” V , ‘
Keen: barrio? intt‘o (fablu,mm“£‘éjl shot-
gunen asu yocar ges,t ‘1'
coking his cabin door, hastened d the 13$:
. I i .

 
,’l

       
1:91,". the sport replied, in a decidedly awkward

 
path until he came to where a narrow trail—n. ‘;
regular blind Indian path, branched of! to the ;
eastward through the foothills. .

This narrow trail the sport took and followed ' i
it like one accustomed to the way. ,

He hurried on at a good pace. The trail, a
though windin amid the trees around the rocks, *.
and over the' roken ground in a serpentine , .
fashion, yet was straightness itself when com- f
pared to the main road, and owing to this cir-
cumstance Keene was able to intercept the fair
rider at a point about a mile from the valley;

As the two trails ran parallel for a few un-
dred ards before they came together. the com-
ing 0; the sport, when he reached the main road a ,
was not a surprise to the girl.  i.

She rained in her steed and, extending her

hand. greeted him in the most cordial manner.
- “You will have to excuse my running after
you this way!" the sport exclaimed as he clasp-
ed the soft, white palm of the girl in his own
muscular brown hand. "But I had something
to say to you, and I thought better to seek an in-
terview here amid the rocks, than in the town
where the circumstance might give rise to a
deal of gossip.”

“ Yes, I think you are wise,” the girl replied.
“ It is always better not to {rive people an oppor-
tunity to talk. Even in a ittle town like this
there are plant y of gossips.”

“Oh, yes, plenty of people who have solittle
business of their own to trouble them that they
gnu afford lots of time to devote to their neigh-

ors.

“ But had. we not better leave this public
trail, where we might be a t to be seen, and
go up into the one by wh oh you came?" the
girl said, a charming blush mantling her cheeks
at her boldness in the speaking.

“ Yes, it would be prudent, for if any of the
townsmen were to come upon us conversing here
they would be Certain to bellow, and report,
that we had met by appointment.” ' =

“ That thought was in my mind and that we.
why 1 s oke.”

And t on Blanche dismounted from her steed,
Keene look the animal by the reins and lolltho
way up into the foo -bills, the girl following. In.
a few minutes they reached a little open glade,
secluded from the observation of any one pass-
ing‘along the main trail. ‘

he sport tethered the horse; the girl seated
herself upon a bowlrier. while Kbene leaned
against the trunk of a stubby oak and looked
down, thoughtfully, in the bright face of the
blooming girl.
“There, this will do nicely for our interview”,
she said. “ we can talk here as long as we like;
and no one will be the wiser for it.” 1 "

“Yes, that is truth.” , , » ‘

“ And now, before you begin your communi-
cation] I am going to take you to task,” Blanche
said, archly. “It is over a week since our ae-
quaintanceship began, and yet you have not.-
taken the trouble to seek another interview.-
which, it seems to me, is plain proof that on do
not value my friendshi very highly, or 6 so you
would not so persisten y keep away from me.” ,

“ Why, I have seen you three times at the ho- 

 
and embarrassed way. which was odd, for Keen »
Billy was not one of the bashnt kind. 1 v ;

“ Three times, eh?” exclaimed Blanche, with a
men- little laugh. “ Well, you have been in
tel-es enougbtokee account of the number
of times, I see, which s more than I ex ted.”

‘f Oh, come now; don’t you think the you”
a little severe on me?” Keene exclaimed.  '
I “ Well, _I don’t know; am I!” the girl inq
m a uizzical way. ‘ -

“ es, I think so, and really you are muse,
me have an extremely good opinion of myse ”
I had no idea that tyou would \care to cultiva
the acquaintance 0 such a man as I am."

“ Ah, now you are trying to depreciate your»:
value. Is that done for the purpose of
me to say that I think you are a desir
quaintancei” the girl exclaimed, archly.

“ Oh, no, not ing was further from my 
thoughts, I assure on!” the sport protested. ' '

“ I was only jestihgl” Blanche remarked. (»
presume I understand what you mean. You ex-

lained the matter to me on our ﬁrst meeting

our way of life, you think, debm on from
seeking the society of such a girl as am; but
as I told you then I do not agree with you, and -
Iain ust as willin to acknowledge you as '
frle asany gent eman that I know of in the
camp, ed to make you under-tow that!
when we conversed together before, but I sup-u“
pose I set about it in a stupid way, or also you
would have comprehended. ’ ‘
“Oh, no, I understood you well enough, no
you must consider the circumstances," the ‘
exclaimed. “ You spoke on the spur of theme-
inent, without. takin time for consideration,
and under very pecul circumstances too; may?
considered that I had done you a favor
v-as only natural that on should be grateful

“ Yes, I should thin sol" the girl 
a“??? m" “Fan? in t “ “Welfawmg'i

r, are wasa y a cum , '
youhadbeenalttlehas .” y ‘ ." A”

" Ah, now you are not ealing fairly with .
and I really feel hurt,”eBlancbe declared ’
dently annoyed by the supposition. “ You

    
\

 
22

Old Benzine.

 
think that I set no value at all upon my life, not
to be grateful to the man who preserved it.

“ Well, now I have had ample time to think
the matter over, and I am not speaking on the
spur of the moment, without consideration, and
I assure you that there is no person iuall this
wide world, whose friendship I prize more dear-
ly than I do yours!”

It was with an earnest voice and heightened
color that Blanche made the declaration and as
the sport looked down upon the attractive face
of the speaker the thought came to him that
never before had be seen as beautiful a woman.

“ Well, now, Blanche, I will say to you, right
honestly, that I am heartily glad of it!" be de-
clared in deep and earnest tones. “ I did not
want to take advantage of the accident which
gave me the pleasure of making your acquaint-
ance, and so I kept away from you, although I
admit I was not able to resist the temptation of
coming to the hotel for a meal every now and
then, so as to be able to get a look at you.”

This avowal, and the manner in which it was
made, caused the color to crimson the conscious
face of the girl, and in charming confusion she
cast her gaze upon the ground.

“I have not offended you, Blanche, I hope by
this confession?” he exclaimed.

“ Olfended me! Oh, no!” she replied, raising
her eyes again to his face, and Keene noticed
the peculiar, deep, soft look which now shone in
the brilliant orbs. “ Is it not pleasant for a
woman to learn that she has attracted the man
for whose good opinion she cares?”

There was a look in the girl’s face which told
Keene that the time for speaking had come.

He seated himself on the rock by Blanche’s
side, passsd his arm around her waist, and took
her hand in his.

The girl did not attempt to draw away, but
nestled like a bird against his broad chest, rest-
ing her head upon his shoulder.

“Blanche, you are the ﬁrst girl that I have
ever seen whom I fancied I would like to marry,
and I fell in love with you when you ﬁrst came
to the town; with me it was a case of love at
ﬁrst sight, but I did not presume toseek to make
our acquaintance, for I thought my way of
ving raised a barrier between us that was not
surmountable, and so I contented myself by
admiring you afar, as a man might worship :1.
star!”

“ I- do not care if on get a living by pla ing
cards!" Blanche dec ared, impetuously. “ am
satisﬁed that you are a gentleman, an honest
man, and I am sure I can trust my future in
your hands without danger of your betraying
the faith I place in you.”

“ Yes, I believe you can, and if I did not
think so I would not seek to win your affec-
tions," Keene declared.

“ I am sure of that," the girl replied, her tone
full of conﬁdence.

“ And will you be my wife, then, Blanche?
Are you willing to trust all your future life in
my hands!"

“ Yes,” the girl replied, in low but resolute
tones.

Then the compact was sealed with a. kiss.

“ Well, Blanche, as I deal with you, may fate
deal with me!" Keene exclaimed.

“ Oh, I have no fear for the future!" Blanche
declared. “ Without a single misgiving, I trust
myself in your hands.” '

CHAPTER XXII.
ran REVELATION.

FOR a few moments the lovers sat and looked
in each other’s eyes, happy beyond expression.

Keene was the ﬁrst to break the silence.

“Blanche, when I set out to overtake on I
little expected that before we parted we 3 ould
plight our vows to become man and wife.”

“ And I had no expectation of such a thing I
assure you, although ever since that day in the
gulch your image has been ever before me,” the
girl replied.

“ Well, since we feel as We do about the mat-
ter it is just as well that we came to an under-
standing ﬁrst as last," the sport remarked.

“ And now in regard to this business that I
follow. It is all right. for a man to be a gambler
in a town like this; nobody thinks any the worse
of a man because he depends upon card-playing
for a living, but this is a Wild, rude and lawless
camp, and after you are my wife I should not be
satisﬁed to keep you here.”

“ And I confess I have no desire to remain
here!” the girl declared. “I have never liked
this, place from the time when I ﬂist set foot in
it
. “ Well, I do not blame you. A camp like this
is not an attractive place even for a man of in
stamp, and ,I do not wonder that an educat ,
intelligent lad ylike girl, as you are, should not
be satisﬁed with it."

“ Oh, I think that it is a horrid lace, and I
should fairly loathe the thought of) taking up
my permanent residence here.

‘ here is not the least danger of our doing
anything of the kind, so make your mind ens
on that score !” the sport declared. “And th s
is whatI was going to speak about. I am not

ing to marry you, Blanche, and make a gam-

ler’s wife out of you. From the hour that our
hands are joined in wedlock I never more will

 
touch a card—never risk a dollar on any game
of chance I”

“ I shall be glad of that, although I am con-
tent to join my fate to yours, even though you
do get your living in such a way,” the girl ob-
served.

“ I will take you out of this region entirely!”
the sport declared. “ We will go many a hun-
dred miles from here, and in a new country,
Where no one knows aught of me, we will com—
mence another life 1"

“ Oh, that will be delightful!” Blanche ex-
claimed, a bright, happy light shining in her bril—
liant eyes.

“ Yes, I am in a condition to make the move
too," Keene asserted. “ It is the popular im-
pression that all gamblers are sad speniltbrit'ts,
who get rid of their money, when luck runs their
way, as fast as possible; easy got, easy gone; you
know, but I can assure you that in my own case
the supposition is not true, for I am a careful,
prudent man and I look after my dollars just as
closely as the average, successful merchant, so I
am well-ﬁxed, as the saying is, and when we get
down to New Hexico, which is where I think of
settling, I will be able to take a ranch and start
in good shape.”

“ The outlook is bright indeed, and you can
depend upon my doing all I can to help you!”
Blanche exclaimed.

“ Oh, yes, I have no doubt in regard to that!"
Keene declared. “ You will be a true help-
mate.

“ But I am forgetting the pu se for which I
sought this interview with you, ’ he added. “I
did not anticipate that We would come to an
agreement to link our lives together, and the un-
expected occurrence has thrown me elf the track
a little.”

“ You do not regret it, I hope?” Blanche ex-
claimed with the natural coquetry of woman.

“ Oh, no!" Keene declared, quickly. “I bless
the fortunate chance which enabled us to come
to an understandin . But to return to what I
was going to say. have an unpleasant revela-
tion to make—it concerns your father.”

The face of the girl clouded over.

“ My father?” she said, slowly.

“ Yes, I would not say anything about the
matter if it was not something that you ought to
know,” Keene remarked. “ When the matter
ﬁrst came to my knowledge I hesitated about
speaking to you on the subJect, for I had a fear
that you might not be willing to believe me but
after what has passed between us to—day, am
satisﬁed that if I speak you will credit my
story.”

“ ndeed I will, for I am sure you will not tell
me an untruth for the world I”

“ You may rest assured that I would not do so
knowinglyl’ the sport replied. “ And in this
case, althou h I did not overhear the conversa-
tion which am about to relate to you, yet I
feel certain that my informant is a man who can
be trusted."

And then Keene related to Blanche the par-
ticulars of the conversation in reference to her-
self which had occurred between Big John Val-
entine and the Cowboy Dude.

The girl listened attentively and did not in-
terrupt the recital by making any comments,
but when it was ﬁnished she shook her head in a
sad way.

“ 'll‘he story pains you?” Keene remarked,
gent y. .

“ Yes, but I am not surprised by it, for I have
beepeejxpecting something of the sort," Blanche
re 1 .

‘ It is an awful thing for a girl to be obliged
to say that she has no faith in her own father,
but in my case it is the truth; I regret that it is
so, but I will not attempt to deny the truth.
From my early childhood—from the time when
I became old enough to understand what was
going on around me—I comprehended that my
father was a weak, irresolute man with so little
perception of what was right or wrong that he
could be persuaded by bad men, or forced from
needy circumstances to do that which he should
have known was not right.”

“Yes, from what I know of him I should im-
agine that he was just such a man.”

“My mother was weak and foolish as far as
he was concerned. I could see that even as a.
child,” the girl declared. “ She did not seem to
be capable of seeing that he was doing wrong,
no matter how he acted, and she clung to him
with the greatest faith until he died.”

“ That is thelife story of many a wife.”

“ My father took care of me—not through any
natural aﬂection, for he never seemed to possess
any, either for me, his child, or my mother
who sacriﬁced all that she hold dear in the world
for his sake—but because I was not only able to
earn my own livin from thetime I was twelve
years old, but contribute money to his

su port.”
R Well, Blanche, I will admit that I have had

, a. poor opinion of your father ever since I have

known him ” Keene observed. “ I think I am a
pretty good judge of human nature. I have
devoted I. good deal of time to study in that
line, and your father impressed me as beings.
man who would be will ng to do almost any-
thing for money. provided that it did not bring
his precious person in peril, for he is one of the

!

 
kipd”who believes in taking good care of him-
se f.

“ Your estimate of his character is correct,
and I am perfectly satisﬁed that the person who
related this conversation to you was not guilty
or any exaggeration.”

“ Oh, I have faith that he is perfectly trust-
worthy!” Keene asserted. “ It was just by an
accident that he happened to overhear the dis—
cussion, and as he is a strong friend of mine he
came straight to me with the news.”

“ It is dreadful to think that my father, who
ought to be my protector, should lend himself to
such a miserable plot!" the girl declared.

“ I knew that the fortunate accident which
enabled me to be of service to you was as gall
and wormwood to this Fesitherstone,” and then
Keene related the particulars of the interview
he had had with the Cowboy Dude and his
henchmen, Black Tom Murphy, after Blanche
had departed from the gulch, on the day of the
mountain lion incident.

“ And these men would probably have killed
you if you had not been ready for them!"
Blanche exclaimed.

“ W'ell, I think they might have tried some-
thing of the kind; they meant mischief! There
is no mistake about that!” ‘

“ You must be on your guard!” the girl cried;

all her womanly fears aroused for the man she
loved.
“ h, I am!” Keene replied. “ Don’t you
worry about that. A man who leads the life of
a sport has got to keep his e es open or he will
be apt to get into trouble. here is no profes-
sion in the world where a man learns quicker to
keep his wits about him.”

“You Will be careful then not to let these
villains take you at a disadvantage?”

“ Yes, you can depend u n that! Don’t you
worry about the matter. he men who succeed
in catching me un repared for trouble will have
to get up extreme y early in the morning!” the
sport asserted in the most conﬁdent way.

“Oh, you must be careful for my sake 1" she
exclaimed.

“Yes, yes, I will, but, I say, you are forget-
ting your own danger in thinking of mine, he
observed.

“True! I forgot for the moment that there
was a plot against me," she replied with a sad
smile.

“But now that you know the nature of the
scheme you will be on your guard l”

“ Oh, yes, trust me for that!” Blanche cried
conﬁdently. “ And as long as I am on my guard
I do not believe that this miserable rancher will
be able to get me in his power.”

“ No, I do not see how he can,” Keene replied,
thoughtfully.

“ Of course, if I did not know there was a
plot; it would have been an easy matter to entrap
me. '

“ Yes, particularly when
would lead you into the snare.

“Oh, it would not have been difﬁcult, for I
would not have had any suspicion, and I would
surely have been entrapped.’

“ It is very probable.”

“ Yet cunning as those men are they did not
calculate upon one thing,” the girl observed,
with an air of ﬁrm determination.

“ And what is that?” i

“ That even if they succeeded in getting me
into their snare, the mi ht not be able to force
me to marry this Gi bert eatherstonel” Blanche
( eclared.

“ They would not wait until you consented,"
Keene remarked. “ They would force you into
the union. This Parson John would undoubt-
edly perform the ceremony although you were
shriekingI against it at the top of your lungs!”

“ But have a friend here who would ﬁght
for me!” the girl exclaimed, and as she spoke
she drew a small revolver from her bosom.
“ Ever since the day when my life was threaten-
ened by the mountain cat 1 have carried this
weapon, concealed, and unknown to any one; if
I was entrapped I should not hesitate to use it
upon ,the man who was responsible for the out-
ra e!

5 My brave girl i” Keene exclaimed, in ad-
miration, and be folded her to his heart in a
warm embrace.

A moment she clung lovingly to him, and
then, blushing scarlet, withdrew herself from
his embrace.

“ Now, I must return to the camp." she said.

“ And when shall we meet again?” he asked,
eagerly.

“ To—morrow, at this same hour and in this
place,” she replied. “ This is as good a meeting-
place as we can ﬁnd, I think," she continued.

“ Yes, I think you are right about that. To-
morrow, then, at this same hour?”

310 girl nodded assent, and then they left the

c.

When they reached a point where it was Eps-
sible for the girl to ride, the sport assisted or
into the saddle.

Then again the lovers clasped their arms
around each other, and Keene pressed a fare-
well kiss upon the rich, red lips.

Blanche rode down the trail to the main road,
while the sport struck through the foot-hills,
returning by the same path that he had come.

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“Well, the die is cast and I have won the
prize!” Keene exclaimed, as he strode along.
“I have been successful in this ﬁrst venture,
and now we will see how I get alon with Par—
son John and the Cowboy Dude, for it is almost
certain that I will haVe trouble with both man
and master l”

But that the sport had little apprehension of
the result, was plain from his cheerful manner,
for he proceeded onward like a man Without
cure.

 
CHAPTER XXIII.
ransou JonN’s museum.

THE Cowboy Dude was not a man to talk
much of his affairs to an one, and so he did not
speak to his especial con dant, Black Tom Mur-

hy, of the agreement he had made with the

Iandlord.

Murphy understood, though, that Feather-
stone was after the girl, and that he looked
upon Keen Billy as likely to prove a. dangerous
riva .

It was the Cowboy Dude’s intention to reveal
to Black Tom Murphy the scheme which he and
Big John Valentine had concocted, for be
counted on his aid in carrying it out, but as he
had made up his mind not to be in a hurry
about the matter, be delayed the revelation.

It Was Featherstone’s idea that it wouldbe
best to wait for a week or two before making
any move.

is calculation was that if he did not worry
the girl by paying her any attentions, and the
father did not say anything more about the
matter, Blanche would naturally come to the
conclusion that he was content to take “no”
for an answer, and if the girl was'thus thrown
off her guard, it would be a far easier matter to
entrap her than if she apprehended that he was
still in pursuit. _

‘ Black Tom Mu by was, like a faithful hench-
man, anxious to 0 all in his power to aid his
employer, and so when it came to his knowledge
that Parson John had been talkln pretty loudly
as to what he intended to do if een Billy suc-
cbeded in ﬂexing him at poker again, he made a
point of seeing the cowboy in regard to the
matter. _

Parson John was a muscular, well-built fellow
about ﬁve feet ten inches high and wei hing in
the neighborhood of two hundred poun s. .

Five ears before he had been a splendid speci-
men 0 physical manhood, an almost perfect
model for a soul tor, but Nature is an imperious
mistress and wi not he triﬁed with, and the
life of wild and reckless dissipation that the
cowboy had led had materially sapped the
power which had once made him avery king
among men.

His muscles were not what they were, his
ﬂesh was soft and. ﬂabby, to use the sporting
phrase he was “carrying too‘ much fat,” on
when it cameto great muscular exertions this
useless weight would surely affect his wind and
when a man has “ bellows to mend.” whether he
is engaged in a ﬁ ht, a foot-race, or any sport of
the kind, it is “ a 1 day” with him.

Murphy found Parson John engaged in sad-
dling a horse in company With a boon companion
of his, a wiry, undersized Mexican-American
known as Tony Gorges. »

The Mexican was an ugl , disagreeable fellow
who had the reputation of mg tone to use his
knife upon the slightest provocal. on.

Tony was already in the saddle ‘and Person
John was just buckhng his “ cinch ” asBlack Tom
Murphy came up. . _

This was about six o’clock. in the afternoon of
the day which followed the one on which
occurred the events described in- our last
chapter.

“Hello boysl whar’s ye bound?” Black Tom
Mur hy lnqui /

“ e are oin to Ricaree City,” Parson John

replied. “ e are so ﬂush with money that we

1 don’t know whattodo with it, and so we thought

_ Ween‘our teeth, no matter

we would go on a little jambcree down to the

cam .” x

“ Rock out that you don’t get too much lickei-
await-Id and give the snap away!” Murphy con-

nu .

Both of the men lau bed the idea to scorn.

“ Sometimes when. he bug-juice gets into a.
man’s head it is apt to make im talkative, on
know," Black Tom .Murphy remarked. “god
a word carelessly spoken might put somebody
.on the scan ”

“ Don’t u worry about that?” Parson John
exclaimed. “ Both Ton and myself are old

akors and we never go so full as not to know
what) we are BbOIllli, eh, Eony?” hm m he‘-

no we a ways 45 I sue
h” ’ “E w much drink we

have taken!” the Mexican declared.

I “ 0h,,1 know that you are'not loose-mouthed

galoots, but you want to keep a watch on your-

, selves if you are going in for a spree. ’ We have

been running this thing so ﬁnely that it would
beashainetoburst it upb any 1
Black Tom Murphy declo

Possess your souls with the positive occur;

'anoe, friend Murphy, that we are safe to tie to,
every time!” Parson John replied.
that you never saw either Tony or myself ,when

t

 
seal".

“ I reckon ‘

 
we did not know what we were about'no matter

how much liquor we had drunk."

“ Yes, you are right that," the other admitted.
“ But there has got to be a ﬁrst time, you
know.”

“ Oh, we have got away with too much hen-
ziue to have a. ﬁrst time, I reckon," Parson John
declared.

“When you ﬁnd me so drunk that I blab se-
crets of which I ought not to speak, put a. rope
around my neck and hang me!” the Mexican ox-
claimed.

“ Going down to see if you can get rid of
some of your money, eh?” Murphy remarked.

“ Yes, we have so much that we are afraid it
will burn a hole in our pockets," Parson John
announced, gravely.

“ 81in if you go to shewing how well you are
heeled with ducats, some of these long-headed
galoots in the camp Will be opt to wonder li0w
on earth you kin continue to git hold of so much
money, for cowboys don’t ginerully go around
with four or ﬁve hundred dollars in their pockets,
unless they let their wages stay back and draw
them all in a lump.”

“Oh, we do that, of course!" Parson John ex-
claimed with a knowng wink. “ And then we
gamble up the ranch here among ourselves and
Tony and I always wins, eh, Tony?"

“ Oh, yes, we always win!" and the Mexican
displayed his white teeth in a laugh.

“ But if what I hear of your doing in Ricaree
City are true you don’t have as good luck down
there,” Black Tom Murphy remarked signiﬁw
cantly.

“ He had now come to the point which he had
in his mind when he came up and engaged in the
conversation. ‘

It was his purpose to spur Parson J ohu on~—to
inﬂame his mind against Keene so that he
might be led" to regard him as an enemy, but
as he knew the cowboy to be a shrewd fellow
and was anxious not to allow Parson John to
penetrate his purpose be got at the matter in
this roundabout way.

The face of the cowboy clouded over and an
angr‘y light came into his eyes.

‘ e1 , my luck has not been as good as it
might be,” he observed, slowly.

‘ No, I should say not, if one-half only of what
I have heard is true,” Black Tom Murphy re-
marked. “ Why, some of the miners in the
camp were telling me when Iwas down there
a day or two ago that this sport Keene, or Kean
Billy, as they call him, has 0 eaned you out
to your bottom dollar as regularly as clockwork
ever time you came to town.”

" he fellows had better mind their own busi-
ness!" Parson John exclaimed, angrily. “If I
find that any of them are wagging their tongues
too freely about me I will be apt to call them to
an account.” ,

“Oh it is not the truth thenl” Murpay 63‘.
claim , and with an air of relief. ‘ ell, I
am glad to hear it, for I will admit that it r’iled
me when I heard these camp galoots boasting
what a soft snap Keen Billy had, and how he

, blowed about the town that it was just play for

him to skin you of ygur wealth.”

“ This sport had tter be careful what he an s
or he may ﬁnd that his tongue will get him n
progblel Parson John declared with a lowering

oo .
“ t made me mad to hear sich yarns!” Black
Tom Murphy exclaimed. “ For a man like you
ought to be a match for any common, low-down
sport of the Keen Billy stampl" *

“ Well I don’t know about that,” the other
replied, s owly. “ As a sport he is a head and
shoulders above any other man in the town; in
fact in all my travels I have never run across a
man who could play cards much better than he
can, and then. too, the fellow seems to have the
devil’s own luck.” ‘

“ He is ahead of you in the game?” Murphy
exclaimed. .

“Oh, yes, I have contributed quite largely to
the support of this sport," Parson John remark-
ed with agrimace. “And most unwillingly too,
I can assureyou,” he added. »

“ How comes it that he manages to get the best
of you? Is he so far superior a player that you
can't hold our own with him?" Murphy asked.

“ Well, don’t know,” Parson John replied,
slow] and reﬂectively. ‘ I reckon you will have
to as me an easier-question than that. Itis a
puzzle that I have been trying to solve ever since

ﬁrst ran across the man, and I am obliged to
confess that I don’t think I know any more
about it than Idid in the beginning. Apparent-
ly he is not a better player than I am, and
when I look‘ k it doesn’t seem as if he has
been much re favored by luck than I, but
their is no denying thatihe, is away ahead of

me. . .
“ It seems to me that this is rather odd,” the
foreman remarked. “ Do you think he plays a
good, square game?” .
“ He certainly seems to.”
“ Under the circumstances. if I were you. I
should be under the im ression that he’ was skinv
log me by sonic trick " Black Tom Murphy do

red. '
“ The thought has occurred to me,” : Parson
John remarked, a dark look on his bronmd face.
i“! have kept a close .watch on him the

  
y ,
want satisfaction, and if I can whole him it 

“ The on ht tabs
\for he is E biggestgman of t

 
or three times we played, but did not succeed in
discovering anything suspicious."

“ You would be apt to make it warm for him
if you did, eh‘l“ Murphy suggested.

‘ You bet I wouhll” Parson John exclaimed , l
ﬁercely. “ I would hammer the fellow within ~
an inch of his life!” Audas he spoke be doubled ,
up his fist and shook it menacineg in the air. w

“ That is the way to tnlkl” Black Tom Mur- ,,‘
pliy declared, approvingly. “ But there is one ‘
loetle thing in a. game of this kind which I reck-
on yolu have not taken into consideration," he
addm . a.

“ What is that?” Parson John questioned. ’ l.-

“ If you are ablel" Murphy exclaimed, with a
laugh. “ That is a p'int that you must allers
look artcr. You will hammer the sport if you
are able; if you ain‘t be will hummer you." And
then the speaker laughed loudly, as though he
considered that he had said a good thing.

The face of Parson John grow dark with rage,
and again be doubled up his ﬁst and shook it in
the air.

“ If I am not good for him then I am not good
for anybody l” he declared. '

“ I have heard that Keen Billy is a tough man
in a row," Murphy remarked, With asober shake
of the head.

It washis game to urge the cowboy on so as to
Send him into the camp all ready fora ﬁght with
the ort.

“ ell, men who have tried it on have gener-
ally been of the opinion that I am, a tough
man!" the cowboy declared. “ There was a
time, when I was a young fellow at college, when ,
I was considered to be a match for any man of
my weight in the town, and I reckon I have not
entirely forgotten my old-time training, although '
I suppose I am considerable rusty, as have not
had any practice in that line (or a good man
years, but for all that I guess I am good for this
sport, ‘ and Parson John 8 contemptuous wa of
speakinglshowed that he did not rate Keen illy
to rank igh as a warrior. 1

“ You ought to beable to getaway with him i" . -
the ﬁreman declared. “You are a bigger man ,
than he is in every we 1” _ 

“ The person will reak him in two l” the 1
Mexican exclaimed. V '

“ Oh you think the ﬁ ht is all over but the
shouting, eh?” Black om Murphy observed, ,-
amused‘ at the conﬁdence of Tony.

“ He will not stand any chancel” the cowboy
replied. “ Parson J uhn will hammer him to a
standstill inside of ﬁve minutes.”

“ Mebbe so, but he ma turn out to be a bet-
ter man than you thin ,” Murphy warned.
“You don’t want to make the mistake, John ,
of underrnting the fellow. ‘I have known a
many good men slip up on good things t‘
because they reckoned the game was go ,
to be so only that they need not get a good ready
on. ,

“ Oh, you can rest assured that I shall not
make any mistake of that kind l" Parson John
declared. “ But I‘will admit that I do not think
this ll rt amounts to much as a warrior.” V
“ ell, I don‘t know about that,” Murphy re-
markodh “ As a rule, you know, al these
sports are rett handy in that line; they have
3 be,”or e t ey would not be able to get

on . '
“ fhave never heard of this Keen Billy having
any trouble with any one since he has been in the,
camp,” Parson John said.

' “ No, I never heard of anything of the kind ,
happening either, and I don’t believe that ha 3
ever has had any trouble, but then he has not“
been 10;; in the camp and rnbably nothin has‘
occurr to raise a raw,” urph observ - ' .

“ Well, there will be a rowi he an min.
skinning me out of my wealth this time l” arson
John declared. , , _ '

“ You are going to the camp with that idea,
oh?" the foreman exclaimed th a laugh. i

“ es, you can bet I am!” the _other replied.
“I made up my mind to it some time ago—after:
I got back to the ranch from’our last game when
be cleaned me out of over four hundred dollars
in a couple of hours.” , :

“Quick wei-kl” Black Tom Murphy exclaime‘

“ Yes, and it was done in such a way that!"
couldn't ﬁnd any fault with it either, but I shall»
not let him war the game that way again. Hint. ,
cleans me out to-nlght, he has got to come up i l
the scratch. and ﬁght me. I will insult him
that he will have to take it up or else show blur-jx
self to be nothing but a craven coward!” Parson "
John declared. ‘

“ Oh, I‘ reckon he will meet on half-way.
Murphy observed. “ I don’t, hlnk on will»
have” any diﬁlculty in getting a ﬂgh out

him. , n
“ Well, Ihopo not, for if I lose to

    
relieve my mind a little.”
“Well, [wish you luck!" Murphy exclaimed.
The cowboys nodded and rode oﬁ‘, ng down,
the valley in the direction of the min ng-oomp.
Murphy watched them for a few Mantegna
then murmured:  ' .
for the '
h coho h kn tlam" "loud:
ow w «
wntbonsaidlr n o s o 

l i 1

        
24

Old Benzine.

 
At this moment Featherstone came out of the
ranch, and perceiving that Murphy was gazing
down the valley, looked to see what had at-
tracted his attention.

“ It is Parson John and Tony,” the foreman
ex lained. “ They are of! for the camp.”

‘Their mono burns in their kets, I up-
pose," the ranc er remarked. “ tisastrange
act that some men can never rest content when
they get hold of a little money, until they haves
chance to squander it.”

“ That is so,” Murphy coincided. “ They are
off for a time, of course. The are going to
drink and gamble and Idoubt if either one of
them will leave the camp while a dollar re-
mains."

“ That is usually the way.”

“ And by the way, I put up a little job on
Parson John. so as to get him to help you along
a little," the foreman remarked.

“ How is that?"

“ Well, he has been gambling with this Keen
Billy, and as he is no match for the sharp, he
gets cleaned out regularly.”

“ Yes, I have heard of that.” |

“ The parson is a leetle sore over the matter,”
Murphy explained. “ He thinks het is just as
good a player as the sport, and jUSt as lucky,
too, and it is a mystery to him why he does not
win sometimes—”

“I have been told by men in the camp who

,1 have watched the games, that the parson is no

player at all,” the rancher interrupted.

‘ I should not be at all surprised if that is the
truth. As a rule, the poorer player a. man is the
greater his conceit," Black Tom Murphy ob-
served, shrewdly. '

“ Yes, I have known such to be the case.”

“ Well, I reckon no one could persuade Parson
John that he is not away up at the top of the
heap as a gambler, and the idea of being regu-
larly skinned by the sport has made him mad
and he has gone to the camp now with the no-
tion of raising a row with Keen Billy if he loses
his money.”

“I reckon the row will take place then,” Fea-
therstone remarked, “ for from what they say of
the two men the odds are about ten to one that

, the sport will have all the money when the game
ends.

“ If it works that way then Keen Billy will
havea ﬁght on his hands for Parson John has
made up his mind to climb the shaiép if he loses."

“ Gone with that idea, eh?” the owboy Dude

’ asked, thoughtfully. I
‘- “Yes, and I did all I could to egg him on,”

Murphy declared.~ “ For it was my idea’ that if
he succeeded in hammering the sharp within an
inch of his life as he declares he will do it might
serve to keep the man from getting in your way
for a while." .

“ Yes, I see: your idea is a good one, Murphy,
but I am afraid that it wi 1 not work,” the

‘ rancher remarked, with a doubtful shake of the

> more apt to hammer Parson

head.

“Wh not?” ‘

“ We , to my thinking the sharp is much
John than he is to
get the best of the sport.”

“ Do you think so?”

4 ‘ “ Yes, indeed, I do.” ~

“ The parson is a good man—and he is bigger
ever way than the sport.”

“ at he hns'been dissipating too much !”'the
rancher declared. “ How many ducats would

‘ {Eu bet on a man in the prize-ring if. you knew

in this

had not trained for the ﬁght and had been
drinkin all the liquor he could get hold of?”
‘9 We) , I reckon I would not put much wealth

’ on him.”

“That is just the case with Parson John. For

ﬂy or ten years he has been burning the candle

at both ends, and it is just as certain as fate
that a man has got to payfor that sort of thing!

1 ' _'When the time comes for him to tax his physi-
— ' cal poWers to their utmost he will find that heis.
' not the man he once was, his stamina is gone——

’ no sta ng powers, and almost before he knows

it he iscovers that he is practically be] less.”
“ Do on think the person is as ha y elf as
Murphy remarked in wonder.
“I do and on mark my words, if there is a
ht between im and Keen Billy, if he does not
w ip the sport in the ﬁrst four or ﬁve minutes
the other will make a holy show out of him i”
“Well Idid not reckon it would work that

~ way, an ‘I thought I was pulling the wires

 mighty nicely when I set him on to tackle the

1. “ Oh, it does not make any particular diﬂer-

‘v once, exceﬁting that if the sharp gets the beat of

. John'it w

l make a sort of a hero out of him,

- v for the men in the camp have got the idea that

the person is a dangerous man, and if'Keen
311%ch him out twill make his stock go

we That isa fact!” ‘

“Iain sorry that the thing is working this .

my," the rancher observed, reﬂectively. “ Still
it is one'of those aﬂairs that you cannot do any-
thing With. From the reports that I have heard
I got the idea there would be trouble between
thetwo, and I had it in my mind to k to the
u about it, although I doubti my speak-
, have been

productive of my horse,

[Mu

  
results, 191‘ the person is a. bull-headed fellow
about some things. ”

“ Yes, I reckon it would not have made much
diﬂerence. He had made up his mind to pick a
quarrel with Keene if the sport won his money
again and I doubt if be con d have been talked
out of the notion.”

“Well, i the s rt hammers him, as I think
he will, Jo n wil have more sense next time.”

“I will be hanged if I don't go down to the
camp and see how it comes out!" Murphy do.
clared, abruptly.

“ I would if I were you, and if there is a.
ﬁght, remember my prediction.”

Ten minutes later Black Tom Murphy was in
the saddle and riding,r toward Ricaree City.

CHAPTER XXIV.
THE STRANGER.

AFTER his conversation with Black Tom
Murphy, Featherstone had re-entered the ranch,
and there fell to meditating upon the matter.

“ I do not like this affair," he muttered. “ I
am fully satisﬁed that Parson John is no match
for the sport. He was quick and able enough to
stand both Murphy and myself off in the gulch
after be rescued the girl from the cat, and it
stands to reason that such a man is not going to
let a drunkard of the Parson John stamp get
away with him.

“And then suppose that he should hammer
John so badly as to conﬁne him to his bed for a
couple of weeks or a month, my scheme would
have to be postponed until John got about
again.

“It is unlucky that it should happen just at
this time!”

And then‘ he mused in silence over the matter
for a good ten minutes. ,

Suddenly he sprung to his feet.

“I will go to the camp myself and see how
the affair ends I" he cried.

He ordered his horse to be saddled, and when
the steed was brought, mounted and set out.

His thoughts were not agreeable Ones as he
rode down through the valley.

“I wish Murphy had btld his tongue about
this thing!” he exclaimed at last, after brood-
ing over the matter for some time.

“ Murphy is a good man enough, but he hasn’t
got any head, and such men always ! lander
when they attempt to get in any ﬁne work.

“0! course, he was not aware of the game I
had in mind to play, and that game will be
completely upset if the sport lays Parson J )hn,
up in the event of a ﬁght; in my opinion, too,
it is dollarsto cents that John will get an un-
mercl’i'ul thrashing if he heaters the sport into a

ht. ‘ '

 
And after uttering this opinion the rancher
rode on for a mile or so, brooding over the
matter.

Then again he put his then hts into words.”

“ There is another point to considered, tool”
he exclaimed. “But such thick-headed men as
by never take time to look at a matter of
this ind in all its bearings.

“ It is for my interest to keep on good terms
with the miners. There is always more or less
jealousy existing between the cowbpys and the
dwellers in camps like this. . ’

“ Now, if the townsmen get the idea into their
heads that the cattlemen desire to run the town,
it will be sure to breed trouble. For all that he
is a man of education, Parson J ohn-is bull—head-
ed and’perversely blind sometimes.

“ It will not be the sport’s game to have any
trouble. Men in his line always try to get
alon *as easily as possible, so that the cowboy
will ave to provoke him into a difﬁculty—that
is, force him into a ﬁght without rhyme or reason,
and will not the townsmen be apt to consider
that this shows a disposition on the part of the
cowboys to ride over the town?”

The rancher shook his head gravely, as he re-
ﬂected upon the matter. I

Thtel way that aﬂairs were going annoyed him
area 3’-

“ I don’t suppose that it will be of any use

i for me to attempt to try to get John away,” he

muttered after reﬂecting upon the matter for
some time.

S‘ If I interfere the chances are that it will only
make matters worse. ‘

“ Strange how blind some men are!” he cried,
abru tly. '

“ ere is John deliberately getting into the
quarrel, rfectly sure that he will have no diffi-
cult in isposing of the sport, and Morph do-
in is best to urge him on, thinking that e is

i. do ng me a service, and certain that the cowbo

will not, have a hard job if he attempts to whip

Keen. , -

“ A stale, dissipated man who has been ﬂllin
himself With whis for the last ten years,
against a clear cool- eaded sport, who is prob-
a ly in the'pinl: of condition for astruggle of
this kind. i i

“ Bah! one would think that a man like'Mur-
play would have more sense!”
stuck his spare into his .horse ‘ and went on at a
brisk gallop. r ‘ .

,3 .In due time arrived at Ricaree City.
' Herodeto the hotel corral
 thesaloo

, \

 
Then,gln order to relieire his mind the rancher '

 
and put up his,

The shades of night had fallen over the town
by this time and the miners had commenced to
gather in the bar-room for their nightly gossip.

Big John Valentine was behind the bar, and
not busy, as it happened, when Featherstone en-
tered.

The rancher approached him.

“ Have you seen any of my men in the camp
to-night’i” Featherstone aske .

l‘l‘be landlord reﬂected for a moment before re-
ying.
p “ No, I reckon I have not,” he answered. f
“ Leastways I don’t remember to have caught '
sight of them.”

“ There were‘three or four came to town ; Black
Tom Murphy and Parson John were in the 11mm
her and I wanted to see them.”

“ They have not been in here this evening,”
Valentine replied.

“ They are probably around town somewhere,”
the rancher observed.

“ Yes, I reckon so.”

While this conversation was going on a men
who was lounging by one of the windows at the
back part of the saloon had been attentively ob-
serving Featherstone.

He was a stranger in the camp, having made
his appearance there with the coming on of the
night. -

A powerfully built fellow dressed roughly,
well-armed, with a heavy) shock of hair and a.
hristlelike stubble of a card, his appearance
was not pro sing.

The moment that the rancher entered the sa-
loon—the stranger had his eyes on the door and
noted Featherstone as soon as he made his ap-
pearance—the new-comer turned to the man who
stood nearest to him, who happened to be Keen
Billy's particular friend,‘ Dave Ginger, and said:

“Who is yon man? It ’pears to me thatI ,

have seen him somewhere before.”

The stranger spoke with a decided accent, what
an Englishman would call a north. country burr,
which seemed to indicate that he was a foreigner.

“ Mebbe you have,” Ginger remarked, slowly,
taking a careful survey of the other as he spoke.
“ I reckon he is a man who has traveled ’round a.
good deal."

“ And what is his name?”

“ Featherstone.” V

4‘ Featherstone, eh i” repeated the stranger,
slowly, and there was a look on his face as
though he was trying to remember whether he
had ever know u a man by that name or not.

" Yes, Gilbert Featherstone, and the boys
have nicknamed him the Cowboy Dude.”

“ Cowboy Dude, hey?" exclaimed the other,
as though he was astonished by the title. I‘ ,

“ That is what they call him. He isa rancher
and owns the One¢Square place up at the head
of the valley, and because he dresses so mighty"
ﬁne i: the reason the boys put the nickname on
him.

“ Yes I see,” responded the stranger, slowly,
and wit his eyes ﬁxed on Featherstone.

“ I don’t take much stock in the cowboys,
anyway!” Dave Ginger declared. ‘_‘ I think
they air a measly lot of whisky-drinking sons-
of-guus, and it is my reckoning that this. hyer
town would be a heap eight better off if the
cowboys kept out of it i”

" Mebbe so, mebbe sol” the man remarked.
“ I ain't posted, ’cos, I am a stranger in these
diggip's. Is this hyer Cowboy Dude a hard
case? ' A

“ Oh, I don’t know much about him!” Dave
Ginger exclaimed, with a snort of contempt.
“ I reckon, though, that he ain’t any better than
he ought to be.” / . '

“ I thought mebbe that I knew him, but I I
reckon he ain’t the man I took him to be,” and
then the stranger sauntered elf, gorng toward.
the door. r _

Dave Ginger was not favorably impressed
with the new-comer, and when he moved away
the miner kept his eyes n n him, although he
was careful to conduct his nspection so that the
stranger would not be apt to notice it. _

“I don’t take much stock in you, either, on
black-mauled galootl”Gihger muttered. “ eb-
be you think you kin pull the wool over my
eyes by saying that you reckon on don’t know
the Cowboy Dude—that he ain’ the man you
thou ht he was—but I ain’t‘ro green as to he
feels V, that way. You know him well enuﬂ,
and I reckon that neither one of you is of much
account.” '_ '

Then Featherstone, having ﬁnished his con-
versation with the landlord, departed from‘the
saloon, and the stranger promptly followed on
his heel. ' _ _

“ 0h, wasn’t I right?” Dave Ginger exclaim-
ed, the moment he noticed this move. “I reckon
I can see as far into a. millatone as the next man.
And now the cues has gone to speak to him, and
the way he is working this me sliows'that
thar is something wrong ’houtv t. ’_cos it it is all
5 note and above-beard, whﬂadidu‘t he waltz

grlét up to him hyer‘atore to and say, ‘ Old
1,, .

was the intention of the stranger to arrest.
Featherstone on the'atreet, and forhthat purpose. ‘
'hadfollovi'ed him. j  .‘ r .' 7
After the rancher leftitheg’he, 1 '
up the street for a few paces and than
,I , . I ., ‘ 7

howare' oft". ,, 
Th3 suspicion?“ the“ miner wascorrect that it

 
01d Benzine.

25

 
l
" Let me seei’bhe exclaimed. “ It seems to l able to recognize you, for the disguise you wore
me that I am as likely to ﬁnd the boys at Pistol l when I met you at Helena was I good one, and

Pete's Palace as anywhere in the town 1"

Acting on the idea he turned upon his heel,
and, as he did so, came face to face with the
stranger. '

There was a bright, new moon whose brilliant
rays made the street almost as light as by day.

“ How are ye, Mister Featherstone?” exclaim-
ed the stranger, ducking his shaggy head in a
rude bow.

“ How are you?” responded the rancher, Cast“
in: a searching glance at the man.

“ 1 would like to speak a few words with you
if there is no objection.”

“ None that I know of——go ahead!”

“ Well, this place is a. leetle too public," the
stranger remarked. “ T00 near the center of the
camp; too many people passing, and some long-
earod galoot might catch on to what I say.”

“ Is what you have to speak about important
then?"

“ Oh, well, I ain’t saying that it is, but thur’s
no reason wh the hull town should know ’bont
it, you know, ’ the man replied.

“ We can u nlk up the street a little way and
turn off to the left where there is a vacant space
with no houses near.”

“ \Vouldn’t it be just as well to go round this
shanty?” and he nodded to the abandoned shop
of the shoemaker. “ If we git to the hack of
that we will be out of the way; no one will no-
tice our talking together, and we kin hold a con-
fab there as nice as you please.”

“ All right, although it seems to me on are
taking a good deal of trouble, and tron 18 that
is not necessary unless your business is more
important than I take it to be.”

“ Oh, well, you will see; it is all rightl” the
other declared. .

“ l’ll accommodate you, although I don’t think
there is any necessity for it,” the rancher re-
marked.

Then the two proceeded to the rear of the
shanty, and when the stranger saw the wood-
shed, which joined the edge of the shoemaker-
shop, he declared that it was just the place for a.
“nice little talk."

The in ionbeams lighted up the space in front
of the structure, but the interior of the building
was dark, so that by taking a seat on the wood-
pile the pair would be concealed from the View
of any one passing, and yet they could see if any
one approached.

“ Hyer we will be jest as snug. as a bug in a l

rug!” the stranger exclaimed as he advanced in-
to the shadows of the shed and took a seat on a.
big log.

“ Sit down and make yourself comfortable l”

“ I will try to,” the rancher replied, as he seat-
ed himself upon the chopping-block.

“ I suppose you have got onto my disguise by
this time,” the man observed with an entire
chan e of tone.

“ our disguise!” the rancher exclaimed in a
voice full of surprise.

“ Yes, although it is a .pretty good one and I
rather pride myself on it, but I could hurdly
hope to deceive so sharp an eyed man as your-
self."

“ U n my Word I hadn’t any idea that you
were isguised l” the rancher exclaimed.

“ Is that so?” the other uestioned. “ Well
then, my get-up is a great eal better than I
than hi: it was.”

“ is certainly must be very good 'for I had no
suspicion that you were anything different from
what ou appear to be.” _

“ ell. you ought to be a good judge of such
things for you are pretty handy at a disguise

m .

o f.

“ I?” exclaimed Featherstone in accents of as-
tonishment.

66 Yes.”

“ Youare speakin in riddles l” _

“Oh, come now! on’t you waste your time
by trying any game of that kindl” the stranger
exclaimed.

“ I am not trying any game,” the rancher de-
clared.

“ 0b, of course not i” the other cried, sarcas-
tlcally. “ You are not the man who hunted me
up in Helena and made a certain little arrange-
ment with me, and I will do you the justice of
saying that you are as liberal a paymaster as
I have ever struckl

“But this attempt to crawl out of the thing
when I have got you down to rights shows that
y on are not quite so smart as you might be.

“ I know that it is only natural for you to at-
tempt to work the trick, for it is your game up-
parentl not to give the thing away, but when
you ﬁn that I am up to snuﬂ you might as well
own right up,” the stranger continued. “ I am
too old a detective to be fooled, you kan. If
you ask any man who knows thas followad
my career and knows what I have done, you
Will be told that I am a natural-born blood-
hound, possessed of the instincts which enable
me to jump to a. just conclusion where other
men would only be able to get at it by hard,long
and atient work.

“ his faculty enabled me to spot you the mo-
ment you came into the saloon. I.knew'you by
your walk and the peculiar way in which you
carry yourself, otherwise I should not have been

 
1 completely transformed you, but it is a hard

thing for a mun to change his walk, and only
that ave you away.”

“ hen a man is as positive about a thing as
you seem to be about this, it is of course a hard
matter to convince him that he has made a
mistake,” the rancher remarked, in his smooth-
est way.

“Well, I reckon that you couldn’t convince
me if you talked to a month of Sundays.”

“Yes, I perceive that you have made up your
mind about the matte-r.”

“And why have I?” thcstran er demanded.
“Because I “now that it is so. know that 1
have not made any mistake.

“Now, let me talk a little reason to you,” the
man continued. “You understand what in
mission is up here. I am after the Flourasac '
Gang, but i have taken good money to betray
Bob Chutney, who put me on the scent, and I
am standing in with the band. Do you want mo
to go ahead and nose out the thing, so as to cor-
ner you in such a way that you cannot deny
that you are the man who hunted me up in
Helena and paid me to go back on Bob Chub

ne 8"

'llhe rancher thought over the matter for a mo-
ment.

“Well, no,” he said at last, “I reckon that
there isn’t any need of your going to that
trouble.”

“I thought notl” the other remarked. “ Of
course, I appreciate your desire to keep the thing
quiet, and it is only natural for you to try and
get out of it, but you need not be alarmed, for
your secret is perfectly safe with hie, and all
things considered I thin i that it is a heap Sight
better that I should understand just how the
land lies, for in case of anything happening
which might render it necessary for me to com
municate with you it would be awkward if I did
not know just how to get at you.”

“ Yes, that is true.”

“ You comprehend that with my disguise I
have assumed another name,” the detective said.

“ There are too many men in Montana who
know George Haverland by reputation, even if
they are not personally acquainted, for me to
risk passing under my own name. I now call
myself Sanrly'Smith, which I think is extremely
neat, a handle which is natural and fannliarund
not apt to excite suspicion. I am a miner in
search of work and praying to Heaven that
I will not ﬁnd any,” and then the detective
chuckled loudly at his joke.

“ Your disguise is perfect for I did not recog—
nize you, until after we had conversed together
for some time,” Featherstone remarked.

“ Oh, I understand my business and don’t you
forget itl” Sandy Smith declared. We shall
designate the bloodhound by his assumed name
while he masqueredes in his disguise.

“ And if you had not forced yourself upon
my attention I think that it is certain I should
not have suspected that you were anything but
what you repreSented yourself to be, and yet I
am constantly on the watch for bloodhounds in
disguise too,” Featherstone remarked.

“ Oh, by the way, did you discover tho, spy
that Bob Chutney sent up into this valley ?"

“ No, neither the man nor the slightest trace
of him.”

“That is strange,” the other remarked with
an ominous shake of the head. “The fellow is
sure] in. the camp here, for in the conversation
that overheard, Chutney assured the governor
that his spy was in this camp.”

“ Well, I do not understand it,” the rancher
replied. “ After I got the warning from you to
be on the lookout for a spy, a drunken, worthless
sort of a bummer, who called himself Old Ben-
zine, came to the camp, and I had a suspicion
thas he was a detective in disguise, so I took a
few of my men, we covered our faces with black
hoods and we got at him one night."

“That was a cunning game l’

“I had an idea that if he was a s y he
would be apt to have letters or some sort 0 writ-
ten instructions for his guidance in his pockets
but we did not ﬁnd a scrap of aper, an
though we put the fellow throug a pretty
severe course of sprouts yet we did not succeed
in getting any information out of him.”

“Well, was it your opinion after you got
through that he was a spy?”

“No, I came to the conclusion that I was
wrong in my suspicion,” Featherstone replied.
“ I have kept a close watch upon the man ever
since, but he has not acted in any way sus—
picious, for about all he does is to drink and

,gamble.”

“And he» was the only man that you sus—
pected?”

“Yes, because he was the ﬁrst stranger to
come to the town after I received your warn-
ing. You see this camp is on the down grade
and we don’t have many strangers come. The
boom is over in this section and few settlers
come up this-way.”

“Yes, I see,” the detective observed. “Well,
the man is here somewhere, or else Bob Chut-
ney has been deceived. and it is not an easy
job for any one to play roots on him. Is it
possible that he has been able to make some

 
arangement with a man in the town—«an. old
settler, you know, to work his game for him?"

“That mi ht be—it is possible, of course; I
(lid not think of that,” the rancher observed
thou ,htfully. evidently disturbed by the idea.

“ 1: would be just like my bold Bob to put
up a job of that sort, you know. He is up to
all sorts of games, and u innn in the town
would make the best kind of a spy for he
would not be apt to be suspected as a stranger“
might be."

“Yes, that is true, and I reckon that is ex-
actly what the detective has done. But how
on earth did he make the arrangement? he)
has not been in the town."

“The man here might have been an old ac—
quaintance of Chutney’s, and it would be an
easy matter for Bob to arrange a meeting
with the fellow at some noigliboring town.”

“Yes, yes; it is dollars to cents that you have
hit upon the truth i” Featherstone declared.
“ Yet, although I have been on the watch, I have
not noticed anything suspicious,"

“ Oh, well, the man may be Just keeping his
eyes open withouttrying to makc any move."

“ That is true, too.” a

“ Would he be apt to learn. anything?"

“Hardly l" the Cowboy Dude replied, his
brows wrinkled by thought; “yet, now I come
to think of' it, there is one wreak point, and a'
careful observer, if he noticed; it, might suspect
that all was- not right!"

“ What is it?”

“ There are a couple‘oﬁ my cowboys who have
a deal more money than. any of the rest of the
men; both of them ore-wild, dissipated fellows,
and they will come to the camp every now and
then and blow in their ducats in the loosest kind
of wa ."

“That isn’t very safe,” the detective com-
mented. “People will begin to notice it some
time, and then the question will naturally some
up, where did the men get the money they are
throwing away so freely!" ‘

“ Yes, that is exactly what I am afraid of.”

“ You ought to talk to them.”

“ I have, and both of thempromiso to be caro-
ful how they exhibit their money, but they are
men whom you cannot depend upon in such a
matter. They mean to do us they say, but when
they get to the camp and begin to dmnk and
gamble, they become reckless.” l '

“ Well, if I were you, 1 think I should get rid
of a pair like that,” the detective remarked.
“ The ﬁrst thing they know they will get their
heads into a rope and, may be, endanger you,
too.”

“ I suppose Iwill lich to, but they are ﬁne
fellows, brave as lions, just the men for my

‘work. They are both in town on a spree to-

ni lit—Parson John and Tony Gorges. they are
ca led—and I expect that there will be a. row
before they get out of town, for there is .a. oer—
tain sport whom the parson has got it in for,
and 1 should be glad, too, if the Iperson lays him
out, for I hate the fellow, but am afraid he
will be too much for my man.”
“ A sport that you want ﬁxed, eh?”
H Yes-1,

“How would‘ you like to have me take the
job?” the detective asked. “ I reckon I eoulld
handle him for keeps!”

CHAPTER XXV.
A BARGAIN.

Tan-Cowboy Dude reflected over the matter
for a moment, for the speech‘took him complete—
ly by surprise.

“Well, I don’t know,” he said. “I did not;
 of you in connection with a job of‘ this:

in .

“ You understand I did not put my cowboy
up tovattack this sport, It is something that he
has gone into on his own book. The an has.
mana ed to win about all the money that Parson
John has been able to get hold of for the last
four or'ﬁve weeks and the cowboy feels so sore
over his repeated losses that he has resolved that
if the sharp gets the best of him to—night to get.
satisfaction out of his hide.”" _

“A very natural concluSIon, but Will he be
able to work the little trick?" the detective
asked. “ These sports are generally able to
take care of themselves and it takes a good man
to get away with a sharp if he amounts to any-
thing,” . .

“ ell, I am a little afraid that if in man

oes into the thing that he will ﬁnd that c has
bitten oﬂ more than. he can chew."

“ What sort of a rooster is this sport?”

“ He is named Keene—William laeene
the boys have shortened his name into
Billy.”

“ And that implies that he is about as sharp
as they make them, eh?" . I

“ Oh, there is no doubt about his being a ood
man in his sporting line,” the rancher remar ed.
“ He is at the top of the heap in this town, but
how he is on the ﬁght is something that. no one
knows, for he has not had any trouble of any
kind since comin to the tawny

“ How does he oak—as if he was a warijorl"

“ He is a wellhmlt fellow enough, a bi gei-
man than I am in every way, and in a ﬁst ght
I think he would be too much for me, for I had
a little spat with him the other day,” the

but
can.

2,6

3 ‘ Old. Benzine.

 
rancher explained. “ I and my foreman, who is

’ a big fellow and an ugly man in a row, tried to
bulldozo him alittle; we went in to bluff him,
you understand, but he ‘called’ us so quickly
that it almost took our breath away i"

“ Got the ‘ drop’ on you, I suppose?”

“Yes, that was the game he layed, and be
worked it like lightning, too, so haVe an idea.
tho: in a ﬁght he ~wonld be a hard man to get
at

“ How comes it that he is in this campl—some-
thing crooked in his record, I suppose,” the de-
tective suggested, thoughtfully.

“Oh, yes; you can de mi upon that, or else
he would not be here, ’ Featherstone replied.
“And then, he is evidently afraid of an attack,
too, from outside parties, of course, for there

, isn’t any one in the camp who would be apt to

trouble him, for he has ﬁxed up a cabin on the
hillside, and it is so situated that one well-armed,
determined man could easily hold it against
twenty-ﬁve or thirty.”

" Yes, I see; and if he had not committed some

v crime, and knew that he was likely to be pur-
v sued, he would not trouble himself about such a
fartiﬁcation.”

“ It is evident.”

“ Well, when I asked how you would like me
to undertake the job of squaring your accounts
with this sport, I was just talking a little wild-
ly," the detective observed. “ Sometimes I do
5 oot off my mouth a deal too loosely, you know,
but, really, the idea is not a bad one. I want
something to occupy my time, you know, for

9 this business of mine up here is onlya blind. My
notion, you see, was to remain here for two or
three weeks-maybe a month—long enough to
make a careful examination of all the surround-
'mg country, and then go to some of the other
towns in the neighborhood and spend a while at
each one of them, until Chutney got tired of

aying the expense bill and orrlered me back to
Iﬁelena.”

’ .. “Quite a picnic for you!” the Cowboy Dude

observed, dryly.
“ Oh. yes; and that is the kind of a hairpin I
am when I get my mad up,” the detective as-

‘ ‘serted. “ Chutney thinks he is 'one of the great-

est men in the detective line that ever lived, and

, it is really a pleasure to a man of genius like my-

"self to fool him. '

“ But it will be dull work, of course, for me
here without anything to occupy my mind, and
this little job of yours will come in right handy;
so, if you are open to make a. bargain, I am your
man l’ .

. “Well, I reckon we can make a trade,” th

.1 rancher declared. “ I want the man to get out
? of the town; he is in my way as long as he re-
;naitn’s here; this is one of the cases with a woman

1 B 1

“Ah, women are generally at the bottom of

all mischief I” the other declared.

“ Itis the daughter of the landlordof the'ho-

tel. She is a good-looking, attractive girl and I

have taken a. fancy to her. Her father and I

understand each other all right, but I am afraid
that the girl has taken a. liking to this sport and
that is the reason I want to get him out of the

wa I”
‘ ‘”You had trouble with him and he stood you
, 03?” the detective remarked.
4‘ Yes.”
“ Then he understands that you are no friend
of his and is probably on the watch so that you
cannot succeed in getting the drop on him in
any way?" '
I I think that is very likely.”
J “ But I am a stranger and' if we are careful
I lotto be seen together, it will not be possible
7‘ for him to suspect that, I am desirous of doing
, him any damage.”
* “ No, for him to have an
' e of the su maturall
clared, in his con dent way.
‘" That is good!” ' "
“ And it is just as simple as simple can be."
. , “ Well, the more simp e the plan the better it
' - works sometimes.” :

“That is generally the rule. Upon thinking
the matter over Then come to the conclusion
that I ought to get out of here: in a week or ten
, , days,” the detective remarked. “ There are ﬁve

" towns to cover altogether, and I'reckon that by
~ the time a month is out, Chutney will get tired

of p$ing m bills and order me home.” ~ '
"‘ all I ould sayso." ' ‘

 
suspicions would
x the detective de-

  
» ‘ ' “Now, when I get ready .to depart, Iwill ﬂx‘
. ‘up a warrant for the arrest of this sport and
nab him!” / ‘

" You will haveto do it quietly or you will
have the whole town about our ears l”the Cow-
_ boy Dude declared. “ It the boast of this

camp that no ofﬁcer has ever been able to take a
.' risoner out, warrant or no warrant.”

“ Yes, I understand. The warrant is to fool
him. I willanest the man on the charge of be-
, Ving an  convict from the East, and ar-

7 , e the ng was to take him unawares. cut-

of the town,:and without the knowledge of
,_ in lo soul in tho'ceﬁiyi.
; ?« hen heﬁnds that have got him foul. and
discovers what the char-gels, the chances are bi
3h! he will be willin to go with :me' withou
anyu'ouble, orhe will reckon this a :
themthatthisfellowtahesmezizs

.! . . 2’

     
this :1an so' I

and when I am confronted with m accuser the
mistake will bl discovered and shall be re-
leased.” ‘

“That will be the natural conclusion to which
he will come, of course, but I don’t exact] see
where I am coming in,” the rancher remar 'ed.

“ Well, it is not perceptible at the ﬁrst glance,”
the detective observed. “ But I have it arranged
all right.

“Iwill ﬁx the matterso as to jum on my
man and capture him late at nig is —take
him an hei going home, you know, and have
a couple of orses ready so as to run him right
out of the town. 1 will select a moonlight
night so that there will be plenty of light in or-
der that we can see what we are doing. You,
with two or three good men, fellows that you
can trust, you know, will be in readiness, to
waylay us, selecting some spot where everything
will be favorable for the working of the trick.”

“‘Yes, yes, I begin to understand,” and
Featherstone \rubbed his hands gleefully to—
gether.

“ Oh, it is a ﬁne scheme and it will go through
for sure!” Sandy Smith declared.

“ The beauty of the thin lies in its simplicit ,"
the detective added. “ y experience is t at
the simpler a plan is the better it always works.”

“No doubt about that!" the other declared.

“ Well, you and your men are in ambush, and
along I come with my prisoner, you rush out,”
the detective explained. ” I put spurs to my
horse and git as fast as the beast will carry me.
Your party will wear some masks on their faces,
and the sport will be apt to jump to the conclu-
sion that it is some of the townsmen who have
got wind of the thing and come to his rescue.”

“ Yes, that is probable."

“Then, just by accident, you know, you will
ﬁre a shot. All of your party will have their
guns out, your ﬁnger will slip on the trigger,
and, just by accident, your pistol will be pomted
so that the bullet will settle the hash of this
sport. You can, ﬁx that all right without any
trouble, I reckon.”

“ Oh, yes; such a matter can be easily ar-
ranged,” the rancher assented.

“ Well, there is the whole thing, and I reckon
it will work as easily as rolling off a log,” the
detective exclaimed in his boastful way.

“ I think you are right. I cannot see any rea-
son why it should not succeed,” the Cowboy
Dude remarked, after reﬂecting upon the mat-
ter for a few moments. “ The only difﬁcult
part at the scheme is the surprising of the
s ort.

“ Oh, that does not amount to anything,” the
other declared.

“ I am not so sure of that,” Featherstone re-
marked, with a doubtful shake of the head.
“ This fellow is no fool, you know.”

“Oh no, of course not. If he was, he could
not ma 'e a living as a sport.”

“That is a fact, and from what I have seen
of this man, I have come to the conclusion that
he is extra sharp. His nickname, Keen Billy,
shows miners’ opinion in regard to that matter.’

“Yes, and opinions of that kind ain’t, asa
rule, very far out of the way,” the detective re-
marked. “But no matter how keen this Billy
is, you can bet all you are worth that I will ﬁx
a trap which will catch him. You see, I go to
work in a systematic way in a case of this kind.
The ﬁrst thing I do is to shadow the man for
awhile, until I ﬁx out all about his habits, then
I, arrange my scheme. You see the big advan—
tage I have in a matter of this kind is that the
man doesn’t have any suspicion there is a plot
on foot, and so I get a. chance to take himoﬂ!
his guard.”

“Oh, I ,think on can work the trick if you
are careful, and will be glad to pay to get the
fellow out of the way.” ,.

“ Well, sir, inside of a week I will call on you
to fork over the ducats!" Sandy Smith ex-
claimed. This declaration ended the conversa-
tion. The pair left the shed, and each went on
his way, the detective back to the hotel and. the
rancher to Pistol Pete’s Palace.

 
CHAPTER XXVI.
ran varnaax’s wasnmo.

TEN minutes after the do arture bf the con-
spirators another form stoo within the old shed.
It was the veteran bummer, Joe Bowers.
He had come from his lair in the haunted
shop and a huge grin was on his face as he
peered carefully out of the shed so as to make
sure that' the late occupants were not in the
neighborhood before he ventured forth.
But there was no danger of his being dis-
covered, as he soon ascertalned, and then he came ,
out but he took the precaution to go, in the op-
posite direction to the one which the conspirators
had taken. , - ‘ . v

“If this hyer don‘t beat all i" he muttered to
himself as'he-sauntered around the back 'of the
hotel. «"Itis as big a piece of luck as I have
heered (min a dog’s age!” he continued. “The
idea that them two cusses should ,pitch onto the
old shed to hold their, confab, jest where I could
hear eve word of the talk. And then it was
another picceeof luck that I h to git full
had to. retire to my downy
itoq orelselshonld not have

   
res-ciao

 
v i . ,

been able to git onto this thing," and then the
veteran chuckled gleefully.

“ I reckon that me esteemed friend, Keen
Billy, will be a leetle astonished when I reveal
to him this hyer nice little speculation that these
galoots have gone into, but he will not be half
as much astonished as the will, when they try
to work their trick and ad that it can’t be
done i” And then the bummer chuckled louder
than ever.

He proceeded to the hotel saloon and there en-
countered the sport.

Joe Bowers watched his opportunity and
made a sign to Keene, signifying that he wanted
to speak to him, and he managed this matter so
that no one in the place noticed the signal.

Then Bowers sauntered out and in a. few mo-
ments the sport followed him.

The veteran was at the upper corner of the
hotel and when the sport made his up rance
he went around the corner into the she. e of the
building.

Keene followed him, taking care to assure
himself that no inquisitive passer—by was on the
watch.

At the rear corner of the hotel, safe from ob-
servation, Joe Bowers told what he had over-
heard.

The sport listened attentively, not interrupt-
ing the tale with any comments.

“You see, high and mighty satrap, you will
have to keep your eyes open 1” Bowers declared,
as he ﬁnished the recital.

“ Well I generally calculate to keep a pretty
good outlook,” the sharp remarked. “ And now
that I know what kind of game these two intend
to play they will have to be extra smart to catch
me napping.”

“ If might venture to remark, me royal
nibs, I should suggest that if you caught this
galoot a-trying to play any roots, it would be
quite the proper caper to play him for keeps and
to work the trick like greased lightning as to
make his head swi .”

“ Oh, that will be my game, of course," the
sport replied. “ This is one of the cases where a
man must not hesitate. He has gone in to work
the thing so that it is his life or mine, and you
are safe in betting your money that I shall not
spare him if it comes to a tusslel” ‘

“ That is the ticket and no mistake !" J oe-
Bowers declared, with an approving nod of the
head. “ In a game of this kind a man cannot
afford to throw away any chances.”

“ That is true,” the sport observed. “ And
you can rest assured that I shall not give away
a sin 1e point. ‘

“ hings have gone along pretty 1guietly with
me ever since I struck this camp," eene added,
reﬂectively. “But new it looks as if there was
a rocky road ahead.”

“ You are right, me noble lord!" Joe Bowers
declared. “ There is an old saying, you know,
that ‘it never rains but it pours,’ and now these
galoots are going in toannke it lively for on.
I heerd that this hyer Parson John has n
blowing around town to—night that be was going
to skin you out of your eye teeth if he could git
you to put our money up in a game.”

“ Well, reckon it wil not require much per- _
suasion to get me to set down with him in a
quiet little game,” the sport observed. '

“ And I understand too that the, person has
said that if you win much more money at him
he is going to see if you are as gbood on the fight
as youvare at handling the paste cards.”

“ Yes, he has been talking pretty loudly about
what he is going to do, and I_reckon I am "pale-
pared to satisfy the cowboy in any way, e
sport replied. signiﬁcantly. '

“ Where wi the game be likely to take

lace?” ‘
p “ At the Great Western Saloon I reckon,” the
sport ragged, “for I not got word from the
.arson t t he would e to see me there in a
half-an hour or so, and as that was ﬁfteen or
twenty minutes ago, I suppose I ought to he go-

ing.” ,
fAll ri htl I will make a p‘int of dropping
into the GgeatWestern in an‘ hour or so,” Bowers
remarked‘ ,
bwsomythat time the game will be in full
This ended the conversation. .
Bowers returned; to the hotel. while Keen Billy
took his way to the Great Western Saloon,
which was in the outskirts of the town-

CHAPTER XXVII.
LIVELY WORK. ,-

Wann he sport arrived at the saloon he in-
quired if he cowboy had been in, and was told
he was in the back room. ’

In the rear of the saloon was a private apart-
ment for the express accommodation of card-
parties. » l . :

. When Keene entered the room he found 
p yhad commenced. ~» , .
It the table were the two cowboys and a
couple of miners, DaveKGinger and [a ton h,‘
stalwart soan e, known as Martin W

Both of th men were strong friends of the
$011, and it was through his, calculatioﬂthat

g were in the saloon. =' V -

Bill expec, tod‘ .' 
sugged'toyhaveaooquood

   
i .

  
~s.,.~>

 
.3"?! v"

ar‘ ‘ ’C‘UWW “m... .vn...~ ~..  h _

.29....

u“, 4 44V f

Old Benzine.

27

 
upon whom he knew he could depend, present,
so he would stand a chance to get a fair show in
the event of trouble.

And he managed the matter so that the cow—
boys should not suspect that the presenCe of the
two in the saloon was due to anything but acci-
dent.

When they came in, Parson John was loudly
proclaiming that he was the biggest chief in the
town when it came to a ker ame; and ex-
pressing his wonder that can Bily was so slow
in putting in an appearance, considering that he
had been invited to a contest. '

The pair listened to the cowboy’s boasting in
regard to the way in which he proposed to treat
the sport when he should get him seated at the
card-table, and when he came to a stop Dave
Ginger remarked in a modest way that he

layed “keerds” himself once in a while and
that it took a ood man to get away with him.

The cowboy it at the bait immediately.

“ Oh, well, I don’t mind taking a back at you!”
he exclaimed. “ It will kinder help to keep my
hand in to clean you out while I am waiting for
this hyer sport to comel”

“ Well, sir, I am your mutton l” the miner re—
plied. “ And if you can clean me out you are
welcome to do it. but I reckon you will ﬁnll it to
be as tough a job as you ever tackled since you
were hatched!” '

“ Sayl I don't mind taking a hand in the
game myself,” Martin White declared. “I’ve
got a few ducats hyer which are kinder rolling
round loose in my ockct, and I reckon I would
like to gather in a ew more to keep them com-
pany.”

The cowboy was agreeable.

“ The more the merrier!” he declared.

The other cowboy, Tony Gorges. caught the
gambling fever, and although he seldom layed
poker, preferring to risk his money at ﬁt.) or
the old Spanish game of monte, yet on this occa-
sion he decided to join the card-party.

The game had only been gomg on for ﬁfteen
or twenty minutes when Keen Billyhentered the
room, and durin the few hands which had been

layed, fortune ad decidedly favored Parson
ohn.

He set up a shout when he saw the sport._

“ Ahal you have come at last!” he exclaimed.
“I was really afraid that you were gomg_ to
show the white feather; and had begun to’think

ou would not 11 in an appearance.
thﬁtl§elh I may spifear to be a little backward
in coming forward, but I get there all the same!”
Keene replied.

A “pot” had just been 'captured by.Parson
John, and he had the cards in his hand, it being
his deal, shufﬂing them vigorously, when Keen
Billy entered the room. .

“ Sit down! you are just in time to enter for
this heat!" Parson John cried. “ And I hope
you have brought plenty of money With you,
for I am out for blood this time.”

“ Oh, I reckon I have got enough to get along
with,” the sport remarked, as he took a seat.
“ I am not a national bank, gentlemen, and the
man who expects to strike me forastake big
enough to set him up for life, Will be apt to be
disappointed; but if a thousand or two of dol-
lars will satisfy you, then you can go for me as
soon as you like.’ _ h

“ Well, it will content me if I Win all you
have got,” Parson John remarked. “ And after
I have cleaned you out, if you feel disgusted
with life, and want to o and hang7 yourself, I
will lend you a dollar to ny a rope. ”

“ I am very much obliged, I am sure, ~the
sport replied. “But I reckon that there isn’t
much danger of my troubling you for that ac-
commodation.” ”

“ You are perfectly welcome, I am sure! the
cowboy replied, as he dealt the cards around.

But in this case it was the. old story of the
Irishman and the bull over again.

An Irishman walking along a country road,
perceived abull in a ﬁeld, and the idea occurred
to him that it would be a ﬁne piece of fun if he
got over into the meadow and pulled the bull’s
tail, and the longer be thought over the matter
the greater the Joke appeared to him, and he
laughed in the most hearty manner at the idea,
then he climbed the fence. The bull resented
the intrusion, and promptly tossed the Joker
over the fence, into the road. The Irishman

icked himself up, bruised and sore in every
imb, and as he limped away, exclaimed: “ Faix,
it was a foine thing I laughed fu’st!”

And so on this occasion it was well for Parson
John that he made merry before the game be-
gan for he did not have a chance afterward.

It. was as if the entrance of the sport into the
contest had “ hoodooed ” the cowboy, to use the

l 15 th da .
“III?th bit of luck did he have afterward,

If he held good hands the'rest were so poor .

in cards that they did not feel inclined to bet
and so his gains did not amount to anything.
When the betting was lively his cards were
certain to be only of medium quality and though
on several occasions he had come to the con-
clusion that the sport against whom he was
playing was trying a bluff game and hadrashly
ventured to bet far more _money on his hand
than the cards were worth in the hope to scare
his adversary out of the ﬁeld, yet every time

 
Keen Billy had hung on and met him bet for
bet, dollar for dollar, until in desperation Parson
John had “ called ” his opponent, and each and
every time Keen Billy captured the money).

Time wore on, and as t 6 hours passed arson
John became more and more desperate.

During the game he had been drinking freely,
while the rest had refrained from liquor, under-
standing that it was not possible for a. man to
play a good game if his senses were muddled
with strong drink.

The game ﬁnally resolved itself into a regular
duel between Parson John and Keen Billy.

The sport was by far the better player and as
luck seemed to favor him, too, b midnight the
cowboy was compelled to stop p aying for want
of money.

He was well under the inﬂuence of liquor
when the game closed, just in the condition to
become ugly and quarrelsome.

With an exclamation of disgust, he threw
down his cards.

“ I am through I" he cried.
cleaned outl"

“ Well, it is about time we stopped operations,”
the sport remarked, after consulting his watch.
“ It is just twelve.” And then he began to stow
away his gains in his pocket.

The two cowboys had lost all they possessed,
for both had. played in the most reckless man-
ner.

The miners were only out a few dollars apiece,
for they had been prudent and had not “plunged”
like the ranchers.

Parson John drummed upon the table with his
ﬁngers as with hungry 0 'es he watched the
sport put away his gains: finally his anger got
tho best of him and he cried out:

“ Say, Keene,I would give a triﬂe to know
Whether you play a square game or not!”

“ Oh, you are not obliged to give anything to
learn the truth about that,” the sport respond—
ed, speaking quietly enough, although there was
a dangerous g itter in his eyes. “ You are safe
in betting all that you are worth, or ever ex-
pect to be worth, that when I sit down to play
with square men I play a square game. But
what kind of a card-player are you, anyway, if
you cannot tell whether you are getting a fair
deal or not?”

“ I am as good a player as you are l” the cow-
boy retorted, angrily. “ And it is my belief
that you have not played a square game, for if
you had you would not have been able to clean
me out.”

“I do not allow any man to talk to me after
that fashion l” Keen Billy declared, rising as he
spoke. “ And as you are evidently desirous of
raising a row, if you will come out into the street
I will accommodate you.”

“ All right! I’m your man l" Parson John ex-
claimed.

And then out to the open air they all went.

CHAPTER XXVIII.
THE SPORT GIVES A LESSON.

THERE were a half-a-dozen men in the outer
saloon as the party from the inner apartment
passed through it and they immediately followed
the others, for they suspected from the way in
which Parson John strode along that there was
going to be trouble.

Joe Bowers was in the party, for he had man-
aged to discover the whereabouts of the poker-
pla ers, and he came alon with the rest.

he moon was shining rightly so there was
plenty of light.

The street was deserted so the party had it all
to themselves.

“Now then I want to see if you are as good a
man with your ﬁsts as you are at cards 1” the
cowboy exclaimed.

“‘ Well, I am not one of the kind who is much
given to blowing my own horn,” the sport ob-
served. “ I will say though that I have always
been able to hold my own and I hope to do so on
this occasion.”

“  give you fair warning that I am going in
to give you the toughest kind of a warming!”
Parson John declared as he rolled up his sleeves,
preparing for the contest.

“ That is all right,” the other remarked, also
getting ready for the fray. “ I am ready to be
hammered if you are able to do it, but until you
do accomplish the feat you will haveto excuse
me for doubting your abilities to do the trick.”

“ You will ﬁnd out all about that inside of
ﬁve minutes!" Parson John declared with a
ﬂourish of his arms in the air as he placed him-
self in position.

“ Oh, yes, ﬁve minutes ought to be time
enough for us both to show what we can do in
that line,” the sport rejoined.

“ Are you ready?” Parson John exclaimed.

“ All ready!"

“ Hold on, gen’lemenl” exclaimed Joe Bowers
at this point, unable longer to remain quiet.
“ You want a referee, you know, if you are oing
to run this hyer thing in furst class style. gNow
I have seen a heap of affairs of this kind and I
reckon I kin ﬁll the bill if you want to give me
the job!” »

“All right! sail in! I am willing, although I
don’t reckon to make more than one round out
of this scrap,” Parson John declared in a boast-
ful way.

“ Completely

 
“ The gentleman will suit me,” Keene re-
marked. “ And in regard to the number of
rounds, it is my impression that we will be able
to tell better about that after we get through
than we can now.”

“ Gen’lemen, I will be proud to do my level
best for you," the veteran answered. “And I
reckon that no matter which way the ﬁght goes,
both on you will unite in saying that Old Ben-r
zine is as square a man as ever trod in shoe-
leather in these hyer Western wilds.

“ Now, then, gen’leinen, ready is it?”

“ You bet!” the cowboy cried.

“ Go ahead I” the sport responded.

“Timel” cried Joe Bowers with the air of a:
man who had the weight of a world upon his-
shoulders.

The contestants approached each other, and
now that they were opposed it was easy to see
that the sport was by far the better-nuilt man
of the two, and then he was in excellent condi-
tion while his opponent was too fat for a strug-
gle of this kind, and his face plainly shoWeil that
he had led a life of dissipation which would be
certain to operate against him.

There was a wicked look on the bloated face
of the cowboy as he faced the sport, which
seemed to signify that he meant mischief, and
Keene did not fail to notice the expression and
so was on his guard.

A few moments the cowboy spurred at his op-
ponent and then he made a sudden (lush at him,
sending in his blows with wonderful quickness,
and from the manner in which they were deliv-
ered it was plainly to be seen that Parson J ohn’s
boast that he knew something of tho boxer’s art,
was not an idle one.

If he had been opposed to an ordinary man
who knew nothing of the science of fighting.r it is
pretty certain that his onslaught would have
materially damaged his opponent. But on this
occasion he was confronted by a man who was
more than his match in the use of his fists and
much quicker on his legs.

The sport retreated before the attack, cleverly
parryin the blows, and then when Parson John
in his isgust at not being able to nail his man
tried a second rush, even ﬁoi'cer than the ﬁrst,
the sport instead of retreating (lucked in a won-
derfully skillful way under the arm of the cow-
boy as he made his impetuous advance; then, as
Parson John turned—and clumsy indeed was the
way in which he performed this movement—the ‘
sport dealt him a terriﬁc blow under the ear
with his right ﬁst which sent the cowboy to the
ground. -

Parson John fell as the steer falls before the
blow of the butcher. ,

The crowd sent up a yell of delight, for they
were glad to see the cowboy thus rudely
handled; there was no love lost between the
miners and the ranchmen and so all their sym-
path was with the sport.

“ urst knock-down for Mister Keene!” Old
Benzine declared with the air of a judge. “ I
ain’t got no watch for to count the time but I
reckon I kin guess at it near enuif. I wil count
ﬁfty which will be ’bout right, I reckon. You
cowboy, why don’t you pick {or man up?” the
veteran continued addressing ‘ony Gorges. “ A
healthy kind of a second you are l” And then he
began to count. ‘

Tony Gorges had but little comprehension of
the duties which had thus suddenly devolved on
him, for half-breeds such as he was seldom in-
dulge in ﬁst ﬁghts, alwa 5 being prom t to use a
weapon when they get nto a quarre. Besides
the man’s brains were so muddled by the large
quantit of liquor which he had drank that he
hardly ew what he was doing, but he knew
enough to obey the injunction of Joe Bowers.

He assisted Parson John to rise. ~

“ The scoundrell ou must murder him this
time!” the half-bree said in the cowboy’s ear.

“ He is a hard hitter,” Parson John muttered,
his sense still dazed by the terriﬁc blow.

“ Ah, you should have tried a pistol or knife l”
Tony declared.

By this time Joe Bowers had come to ﬁfty, so
he stopped counting and yelled out:

“ Time 1"

In a half-mechanical way the cowboy faced
his opponent and put up his hands.

The sport perceived immediately that his 0
ponent was not himself and be was quick to ta 9
advantage of the fact, for be commenced hos-
tilities the moment he faced his foe.

He made a feint of striking at Parson J ohn’s
head with his right, then, as the other threw up
his arms to ward off the blow, the sport reached
the cowboy’s wind with his left ﬁst, giving him
a stroke just below the heart which made the
other grunt with pain.

Roused into action by these liberties, Parson
John made a desperate attempt to turn the tide
of battle, for he was conscious that it was going
against him.

He made another desperate rush at his an-
tagonist, but as before the sport retreated froni
him, letting him waste his strength upon the
emp air. ‘

A ozeu terriﬁc blows the cowboy struck at
the sport, but only one or two reached him, and
these did no damage: then, wheh Parson John
paused, breathless from his exertion, Keene--
again gave him a blow in the wind, following:

28

Old Benzine.

 
up the attack by a series of strokes at the cow-
boy’s head.

These blows were not intended to do any seri-
ous damage, though, only to confuse his oppo-
nent, for the sport was watching for a chance to
get in a “right hand swing ” and a knock-out
blow on the jaw.

Parson John retreated before the attack, a
pretty well used-up man, not so much from the
damage he bud received from his opponent as
from the exertions he had made, and being so
out of condition had told fearfully against him.

A man with forty or ﬁfty pounds of useless
fat is in no fit state to indulge in Violent muscu-
lar exercise.

The cowboy was tired, his wind was gone and
it was the hardest kind of work for him to keep
his ground and parry the Vicious blows which
his opponent was sending in so freely.

At last the chance came for which the sport
had been waiting, and he was quick to ini—
prove it.

With a mighty effort he swung in his right
and catching Parson John on the point of the
jaw administered a blow which caused every
tooth in the cowboy’s head to rattle.

Over backward went Paison John, coming to
the earth like a log toppled over, and there he
lay stunned-completely insensible.

The cowboy had been “knocked out” by the
sport in the fairest kind of way.

CHAPTER XXIX.
BRINGING MATTERS TO A FOCUS.

WHEN Parson John came to his senses, which
"was not until a good three minutes had elapsed,
he acknowledged in a sulky way that he had got
enough, and departed accompanied by the half-
breed.

The miners were delighted at the victory ob«
tained by the sport, and it was with difﬁculty
that he got away from the enthusiastic crowd.

Bowers volunteered to accompany him a little
way on his homeward road, and the two de-
parted.

“ Well, old pard, you have got to keep yer
eyes peeled nowl” the veteran asserted.

“ Oh, yes, no doubt about that.”

“ These cowboys will have it in for you now,
and you will probably ﬁnd yourself in a shoot-
ing match the ﬁrst thing you know.”

“ Yes, I should not be surprised, but I reckon
the will ﬁnd that I am as ready with my pistols
as am with my ﬁsts,” Keene remarked.

“ And then there is that other galoot—that ﬂy-
cop, as a city man would say,” Bowers observed.
“ He is going to make it lively for you the ﬁrst
chance‘he gits.”

“ I have been thinking a little in regard to
him during the progress of the game to-nigbt,
and have made up my mind to take the bull by
the horns as soon as possible,” the sport declared.
“ I don’t relish the idea that there is a man in
the camp watching his opportunity to jump on
me whenever he thinks there is a good chance.”

“’Tain’t leasant, for sure!”

“ No, an there is the risk that by some unfor-
tunate chance I might be taken at a disadvan-
tage, and it is not possible for a man to be always
on the lookout, you know.”

“ That is so!” Bowers assented. “ The smart-
est man makes a mistake sometimes.”

“ Yes, and then there is the chance of accident
to be considered, too," the s ort remarked.
“ Something might happen so t at I would be
com letel at his mercy."

“ hat is correct, me noble dook.”

“ And I am one of the kind of men who does
not like to be kept in suspense either. When an
affair of this kind comes up, I want to have it
settled as soon as possible and then it is off my
mind.”

“ I reckon you are right; I hate myself to be
kept in suspenders,” the veteran observed with a
grin.

“ So, as meow the little game this fellow in-
tends to play, I propose to make him show his
hand as soon as possible,” the sport declared. “ I

. shall watch for a favorable opportunity and
then call him to an account.”

“ S’pose he denies and swears that he ain’t up
to no game?"

“I shall have tense some prett plain language
to him, and if he possesses anylmckbone there
will be a ﬁght there and then.”

“ The cuss will be astonished when he ﬁnds out
that you are onto him,” the veteran declared
with a chuckle.

‘_‘ Yes and it will puzzle him to guess how I
‘gained my information.”

 
“ Be sure not to give me awa !”

“Have no fear. I will be careful about that.” l’
Keene replied. “ He will be apt to suspect that '
some one overheard his conversation with the l,
rancher, but it will not be possible for him to ‘
guess who it was.”

“ Yes, I reckon I am safe.”

By this time the two had reached the path i
which led to the cabin of the sport, so Bowers 1
bid him good-night and took his way back to the '

- camp.

“ Things are working as nicely as kin be l” the
' veteran declared, communing with himsclf as he
'lwalked along. “ Couldn’t go better if every- [
'- "tng was greased.

“ This byer Cowboy Dude has played a pretty
good game and I reckon he thinks that he is
about as smart as they make ’em, but he may
change his mind about that before he is a month
older.”

And so the veteran went on his way, feeling ex-
tremely well-satisfied with himself.

Vthn the sport reached his cabin he at once
retired to rest, and slept as sleeps the man free
from the weight of cankering care.

He was up early in the morning, and after he
got his breakfast proceeded to examine his wea-

ons.
p He withdrew the cartridges and oiled the re-
volvers, then carefully loaded them again.

“ I must be sure that they are in good working
order,” he murmured. “ My life may depend
upon the way the tools, work before this day is
ended."

And when he had got his weapons in acondi-
tion to satisfy him, he replaced them in their
holsters and went forth.

“ Hello! here is a piece of luek !” ho exclaimed
as he ascended the narrow trail.

He had caught sight of the disguised detective
—the man who called himself Sandy Smith.

The stranger was sauntering along the main
road with a hammer in his hand and a small
pick slung on his back.

“ He is playing miner and trying to make out
that he is on a prospecting tour,” the sport ob-
served. “ Such a role as that gives him a chance
to prowl around the country without exciting
ling suspicion.”

mith was coming up from the town and as
the sport turned into the main road he was only
some twenty feet away.

“ How are ye?” the detective exclaimed. “ I
am out to see if I can’t strike some pay dirt, but
I don’t sup se there is much chance in this
region, for Ifeckon the ground has been pretty
well examined.”

“ You are right about that,” Keene replied.
“There is not a foot of ground within twenty
miles of this camp which has not been examined
by veteran prospectors a dozen times, so your
chances of striking a lead are extremely small.”

“ Well, I was afrmd that there wasn’t much
show for me, still I have known good things to
be struck in a district which had been thorough—
ly examined.”

“Oh, yes, there is a possibility that you may
ﬁnd pay-dirt, just as there is a chance that you
may be struck by lightning. ”

“ You don’t speak ver' encouragingly,” the
disguised detective remar ed.

" What is the use of feeding you on false
hopes?” the sport in nired. “My idea is that in
all cases of this 1: d it is Letter to speak the
truth.”

“Maybe so.”

“ And speaking of truth, that reminds me that
I have a few plain words to say to you,” the
sport said, abrupgldy.

The other look surprised.

“ To me?" he exclaimed.

“ Yes; you think that you are playing apretty
deep game, but I can tell you that you are not
half so smart as you think.”

The detective stared and scowled, being both
surprised and annoyed.

“I reckon I dont understand what you are
driving at,” he observed.

“ You call yourSelf Sandy Smith, I believe.”

“ Yes, that is my handle.”

“But d0wn in Helena you are a heap sight
better known as George Haverlandl” Keene de-
clared. ‘

The face of the bloodhound grew dark at ﬁnd-
ing himself thus discovered, but after a mo-
ment’s thought he tried to put the best face he
could upon the matter. ‘

“ Oh, you are barking up the wrong tree!” he
declared, pleasantly, just as if he considered the
matter to be a joke. “ But I don’t wonder at

our making the mistake, for I reckon I must
ook a deal like this Haverland you speak of, for
I have been taken for him before. ”

“ That dod e will not work!” the sport ex-
claimed. “ on cannot fool me with any ghost
story of this kind. I know that you are George
Haverland, the detective from Helena, and what
is more, I am aware that you have entered into
a nice little arran ement with this Cowboy
Dude. Gilbert Feat erstone, to get me into
trouble."

This announcement took the disguised detec-
tive so completely by surprise that he was not
able to conceal his amazement.

“ What are you talking about?” he blurted out
at last.

“Now don’t attempt to deny that this is
true, for you Will be wasting your breath!”
Keene exclaimed. “I know all about the bar-
gain that you made with Featherstone—how

you volunteered for a certain sum of money to.

get me cot of the way, but you see as I am up to
the game it will not work l’ -

The truth now ﬂasher] upon the bloodhound;
the conversation between himself and the ranch-
er had been overheard by some spy who had re-
ported the particnlars to the sport. I

For the moment he was bothered, and knew
not how to treat the matter.

As it was apparent that the sport knew all
about the conversation between himself and the

 
Cowboy Dude, it would be idle for him to at-
tempt to lie out of the matter.

Then the notion suddenly came to Haverland
that the best thing for him to do would be to
bring matters at once to a climax.

The spot was a lonely one, no witnesses near,
and he could make the sport a prisoner now as
well as at any other time.

The bloodhound having resolved upon this
course was prompt to act.

He prided himself upon being “ quick on the
draw,” and so plucked out his revolver with
marvelous speed, but Keene anticipated that the
detective would do something of this kind, and
so he was on the alert.

The look in the eyes of the other warned him
of the movement before it was made, and as the
sport was equally as nick on the draw as the
detective he got ﬁrst re.

The bullet passed through the right wrist of
Haverland just as he brought his pistol up to
the level and then buried itself in his chest, so
the ball of the detective sped harmlessly by the
s ort.

pHaverland gave utterance to a groan and fell
forward upon his face.

Then a shout went up; two miners who were
coming up the trail toward the valley. had ap-
proached near enough to witness the ﬁght, their
presence unsuspected by the combatants.’

“ This is lucky,” the sport murmured to him-
self, as the men hastened forward. “These men
will be able to testify that it was a fair ﬁght,
and that my antagonist began the trouble.”

When they came up, the pair congratulated
the sport upon his victory.

“ The cuss tried to git the drop on ye, but he
couldn’t come it!” one declared with a chuckle.

“ What r’iled the galoot to make him go for
ye?” the other inquired.

“ Oh, nothing much. He was spoiling for a
ﬁght, I reckon,” the sport replied, carelessly.

Then an examination was made of the
wounded man; one of the miners professed to be
quite a doctor, and he announced that, although
the stranger was seriously wounded, yet it was
his opinion that he would get over his hurt if
proper care was given, and he immediately pro-
ceeded to bandage the wound, while his compan-
ion and Keene set off for the camp toprocure
assistance.

The report of the ﬁght created a deal of talk,
and the citizens came to the conclusion that
Keen Billy was a chief of great renown.

The wounded man was conveyed to the hotel
and made as comfortable as possible, while the
sport became the hero of the hour.

The news of this encounter soon came to the
ears of Gilbert Featherstone, and he was an-
noyed, for be had not expected that any trouble
would occur so quickly.

He was prompt to call upon the wounded
man. _

Haverland was utterly disgusted at the way
that things had gone, and had no hesitation in
declaring that he would have no more to do with
the sport.

“I made a bad break, but I am not fool
enough to keep on!” he exclaimed. “ The man
is too much for me, and I will not try him on
again.” _

The rancher saw that it would be useless to at-
tempt to persuade the detective to change his
mind, and so he did not try to do so, but with-
drew in a very gloomy mood.

CHAPTER XXX.
A SURPRISE.

A WEEK from the day that the events related
in our last chapter took place, Gilbert Feather—
stone and Black Tom Murplhysat together in the
principal room of the ranc .

It was night, d the hands of the clock on the
mantel-piece poin cl to the hour of ten.

With the exception of the cowboy in charge of
the corral the two were alone on the ranch, for
all the rest had gone to a dance which the land-
lord of the hote had got up. ‘

The Cowboy Dude was feeling very much out
of sorts, for t ings lately had not been going to
his satisfaction.

“ You seem rather dull to-night,” Murphy re-
marked.

“ Yes, I do feel that way. I don’t know ex-
actly how it is, but I have a sort of presentiment
that there is trouble ahead.”

“ Oh. I don’t take no stock in anything of that
kind!” Murphy declared. “ You don‘t feel well
—your liver is out of order, or something of that
kind is troubling you.”

“ No, no; I am well enough physically, but
thin s are not going on to my satisfaction,”
Feat erstone replied. “ I have been keeping a.
watch on Blanche Valentine for the past few
days and she has acted in a way that makes me
suspect that she has been warned of the little
game that I intend to play.”

“ Oh, but that ain‘t possible 1” Black Tom Mur-
phy exclaimed.

“Well, I know that it does not seem to be, but
she acts in that way. She uscd to take long
rides, but she has given that up, and now does
not go far from the camp, generally goes on
foot now, too, and her favorite walk is
(103.1] the trail in the direction of“ this Keane’-
ca in.

 
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Old Benzine. 

 
“ Mebbc she goes to meet him," the other sug-
gested.

“ Yes, that is my idea. I have tried to play
the spy on her a couple of times, but it was no
go. She is too wide awake—keeps her eyesopen,
and is evidently afraid of being watched.”

“ So you couldn’t work it?"

“ No, and silo is keeping such a good lookout
that I have serious doubts whether I will be able
to come the Black-cap business on her.”

“ Oh, you will get a chance in time," Murphy
asserted, confidently. “ You want to play a
waiting game, you know, wait and watc your
chances. The opportunity is bound to come if
you wait long enough, but you must be careful
not to scuro her by telling herthat you are keep-
ing your eyes upon her movements, for if you
do all the fat will be in the ﬁre."

“ You can be sure that I will not make any
false move!” the rancher exclaimed. “It may
be possible that she is meeting Keene secretly,
and is afraid that it will be found out, so she
keeps her eyes open, to be sure she is not fol-
lowed.”

“That is likely.”

“The devil will be in it, though, if I cannot
contrive some plan toiusnure the girl!” Feather-
stone declared.

“ Well. seeing that you have the help of the
old man, you surely ought to be able to do it,”
Murphy remarked.

“That is so, but I should feel a great deal
sui'er that I could do the trick if this Keene was
cut of the way.”

“ No doubt ‘bout that.”

“And that old bummer, too, who is lonﬂng
around the camp, Old Benzine, do you know that
I mistrust that rascal? Ivthink be is a spy, al-
though we were not able to get anything out
of him when we tried the umpin process.”

“ I reckon that he is a s y rasca and. as cute
as they make 'em, although he is full of bug-Juice
’bout all the time.”

At this point the door opened suddenly and a
dozen men rushed into the room.

. The air grasped their weapons and sprung to
their eat, but their hostile intentions were
checked by the stern command:

“ Hands up i" .

And the admonition was enforced by the lev-
eled tubes of a. dozen revolvers.

The surprise was complete.

“ What do you mean by this outrage?" the
rancher demanded, slowly elevating his hands as
he spoke.

“ hat you two are my prisoners l” responded
the leader of the intruders.

" And who may you bel” the Cowboy Dude
exclaimed. ,

“ My name is Robert Chutney, and I am a de-
tective ofﬁcer,” was the read .

_It was indeed the note bloodhound, and b
his side was the . ort William Keene, whi 6
Joe BOWGI‘S tbq 1d ﬁenzine of. Ricaree City,
grinned at the discomﬂted pair him the rear»!
the throng.

“ You have played a bold ame, Gilbert
Featherstone. but have come to gr et at last,” the
detective continued. - >

“You are speaking in riddles!" the rancher

V exclaimed, keeping up a bold front. “ What

charge do you make against me?"

“ Highway robbery!" Chutne replied. “You
are the chief of the Flour-sac Gang of road-
agenls and this ranch is your headquarters.”

“ Babi such an accusation is ridiculous!”
Featherstone cried, contemptuously.

“ Oh, no, it isn’t! I have got you dead to
rights and don’t you make an mistake about
it!” the detective retorted. “ on have played
the game splendidly, but the jig is up‘now.
You managed to buy Hl’iverland but he has gone
back on you and made a full confession.”

A bitter oath came from the lips of the rancher
at this announcement. . ,

Then in obedie co toChutney‘s orders the ir
wgg'aet dual-med a d handouts slipped upon t eir
w s. " ,

“ There is one consolation,” the rancher ob-
served atter this little ceremony was completed-
“ Younwill never be able to get us out of this
cam .

a; b. you think “do you?” Chutney remark-

“ I know it!” Featherstone replied. “ When
the men of thq camp discover that you "a of;
lice}? they W111 rise as one man and cut you

3!

“ Well. all I have to In! about that mm: is
that it they try any Inch game as that they will
ﬁnd they have taken up the hi kind of ‘
contrac " the detective remsr ,

“I did not rush blindly into this thing, you
know, but counted every step in advance,’ he
continued. “I have twen well-armed men,
and I reckon that if the lube ltanta of this camp
are anxious for a ﬁght I can give them all they
want and a leotle more too maybe! .1 have
managed to corral you two without any trouble

   
and I when I can gather in anon-cowboys when I.

the return from the shindig. ‘

Elie taco of the rancher was dark with pension
While Black Tom Mu hy’s countenance show .
tbathehadaigoqdclamlohisnickname.‘ ~

  
-Tbenrﬁt can ,txightofJooBowers‘s ii

that... ground.

   
“You scoundroll” he cried, hoarse with pas—
sion. “ This is your doings.”

“Oh, ou kin bet your life that Old Benzine
was to t e fore!” the Veteran exclaimed.

Things turned out as the detective antici-
pated. ‘

The cowboys were all well under the inﬂu-
ence of liquor when they returned, and were
easily captured.

A search had been made, and ample proofs to
convict the men were discovered, and then, in
the dead hours of night, the detective took his
prisoners through the camp, and so successfully
was the movement erformed that not until
morning was the trut known, and then, even if
the inhabitants of the town had any idea of in-
terterin , it was too late; but, when the miners
heard t a story, they did not feel like gettin
mixed up in the matter, for they did not relis
the notice that a band of road-agents should
have a headquarters in their valley.

Chutney got his prisoners safelyto Helena,
and there they were duly tried and convicted,
which enabled the detective to pocket the re-
ward.

A week after the downfall of the rancher,
Keene sought Big John Valentine and asked for
the hand of his daughter.

The old man resgonded in a doleful way; he
could not get on if lunche left him, and then
the sport lanked down ﬁve hundred dollars,
thus literal y buying his bride.

Quietly the pair left the camp, went to Helena,
and there were married.

They turried but a few days in Helena, and
went southward to New Mexico, where the sport
pifjoposed to turn over a new leaf—Ito lead a new
i e.

After the departure of the lovers, Joe Bowers
remained but a few days in the camp.

“ Too slow, too much like a graveyard, for a.
royal nibs, like myself, and so I'll seek fresh
ﬁelds and pastures new,” he said. “ Adieu, and
don’t forget the king of bummers, Old Benzinel”

THE END.

 
Beadle’s Half-Dime library.

BY ALBERT W. AIKEN.

11 The Two Delortlven; or, The Fortune: 0!: Bawcry Girl.

78 Abe Colt. the Crow-Killer.

79 801 (“ll er. the Ginnl‘lrnmm.
$33 Joe Blu- ' of Angels mul Illa Boy Paid.

47 New York Nat. A Tale of Trick: and Trspl ill Gotham.
4.18 New Eu laud Nick; or. The Fortunes oi'aFouIdllug.
464 Alinble . ll‘k, tbepircnl Prince. .

498 Tim: 'l‘cd, lne Ariznnn Sport.
510 Cool Colorado, tlm Half-Breed Detective.
518 Cool Colorado in New York.

 
BY JOSEPH E. BADGER, JR.

Yellowstone Jack: or, The Tra r.

Black John the Road-Agent; or. in Outlnw’l Rnan
Hurricane fill“ nr Mustang Sam and Hi. Ford.
Emu or. The King of the Plains.

Nlﬁht-l uwk It: or, The DIIIIIHII' oftho Ranch.
Du nty Lance ill. Boy Sport.

l Panther Paul: or, Dainty Lane. to the Roma. ~

0 The Black Giant: or, Dnintv Lane. in Jeopardy.

8 Bull]? Dual“ or, Flghtlng Fire will: Fin.

1 The 0: Tru [era 5 or, Dnlnly Lane. on the Wot-Path.
it The Ba

0

9

33ml

aaaxguah

Pardsl or. Dainty Lance Unmuks.
oak 051:, ill» Caliban sic-lullnl City. -
The Barnan Wolf; or,'rlia Benulllnlnoeoy.
he no Rlderl or,'l'he Hammikvu'laqul.
Id Dpllblo Flat WI, l‘hc Strum Guido
'lihe klnx ot‘tlu- Mill or. Daniel Boone’s Lul'l‘rall.
t Fox. the Border Bo Dubai".
Chlncaoln Dim, the oy Trailer.

wallow-unwoun-
G
'l

2338
«can
5"
.-

BY CAPTAIN rnnn. wni'r'rAnn.

5 The MIMI.“ or. The Wltch o! Davina.
0 Dumb Paﬁe or, The boy's Daughter.
lek Dar“ 3. t a lay Exprm Rider.
rtgcd::ni ":33." "Kidd? (like? mid-u.
u n o o u:
159 The Lost Olptalls o‘r, Slipper Jab-I COII'IEIIM to the
n

:00 gm ﬁn" nah i n 3 ch l b manna...
o .

914, We .53. .h.°ll'oi.'b'.i :l’llo in; "u ' '
wndmt'omr. tin Animal King; cr,‘l'ho hand the World
I The '1‘ I r Toner: or The hquoltbolu‘lo.
“of mull 'ﬁiek. n. n. n . .

895 Cantoth Ju’l in}: Troll.

i

BY OAPT. J. 1‘. O. ADAII.

M n Boll or Nick WhiMu’n lo I .
mean, on a... Shot olthc win.”
ed "use the iii? Tn»...
lc Wind? u; or ll: n. mini 01M. .
he Wllltc lull-n; or, in. Seoul on - Yellowstone.
r'l only nr, The Gmnhom In the Woods.
t 0 Terror oi the Prairie.

ck Enchant or. But, the Female 1' r.

Grluly and Ills Pet-l or. The WWI-m
“ttxir'isu°"lrﬂr§"“"t%* i
C III! 07 0 ll W In

Icalp Klan oi, rt. Humu mutual?"

gauze:
a:
E l’

on
3:

5E

.
aﬁﬁiagzsszcs

E

5

I

I

l

S

9

P

BY _ EDT. A. K. nil“.
54.8 Captain Cum-ﬁll» Chlplml Cock.
odgc.

rt. ‘ .
ha- Sol. lh’qu-n WIN: a Shadow.
sue Tina-Cut and Pal-lg nr. The Dad I“ II Slim City. ‘
801 Ila uv “ans. lh. ulch Vldoc . :
Bllsail Bar-“1:; “11.. Detective I...
I I .
 Tom gag- T’l‘ﬁrrlblﬁ  k I” y
. a u- or,
on 3331»; old. sh- %Izﬂi-Rlnnu Dane“ '35:.“ on.“

BY GEGRGE WALD” BROWNI. /
Rock the Mn: fran‘l'cxu. , ,
lined Riders on?!» TW ‘
(Tani 02.31114] k’n  ,
linen or, dy Rock's.
ﬂuid-z or. udv authoring...
. _l or ll to

V
a
o
’18
u-
0
5
a
I

 
.
v w: molten-w. was.qu
w
ill Emily“. incur
" : Whm-Ann,tho
g; 23,92... an." "m"

 
BY BRACEBRIDGE ﬂEMyNG.

89 Ill-"ll Jim: or, The mi of in. Family.
ill The Captain ofthe Club; or. Thu Riv-l Athletes.
10! Jack Hathaway In New York.

BY LIEUT. H. D. PERRY. U. B..N.

I?“ The Roy nun-way] or. The Entrance? of the Ban (
1H0 The Sea Trulleri or, A Vuw Well Kept.
19“ Captain Kit-i or, The Myst.on of Moutauk Point.

BY HARRY HAZARD.

828 Ark-nanw Joell: or The Scour” tho Mina.
329 lied-sin» Tom "hi-ii. n........’.'r..n.
843 The Mountain evil; or, Yellow Junk, t o Outlaw.

BY 00L. A. 1". “OUT.

.90 Black Duck-king or, The lulled Man of Death Cum.
419 Kenneth. llln Knlfchl

II.
485 Little Lighlrool, lhc Pile. of ii... Woadl. I

BY FREDERICK DEWEY.. , .

818 ﬁlm-"on Jack. the King-Pin o! Riﬂe-slick. ‘ :
478 Tulluemund. lhu Deurl Dawn". 3
64’) The Canyon Pal-dc. ‘ «

BY mums s'r. cannon. w. .

80 Ronrln: llnl b Rockwooll, Illa Ranger.

M Iluttlln Ru e; or, The Nighthawks or Knit-ab i

59 011] “In cry; or. Pandy Elllll‘s Hang:
103 Durlng Davy: or, The Trail nfllm rdcr Wall.
166 lllekory llarr ; onTlle Tm par-lirlgndc'n 8', .
119 Thunderbolt om or. lho ull-Hel‘dlf.‘ «’-

BY J. w. osnoN. ,

489 The Rival Glants ofNowhar‘. .. .
49H (luctlln Burr, the Man from “lle Luck. ,
full? 01d “nuke 1:. lbs Sierra Shallow. '
50H. Powder l’z‘l, the Boy Mlnnr.
 I'lf‘ll Bing-clim' the Vitamin Detartllv‘n. M .l

. to n n I on ue:vr,"m "hwy mulch-Q,
688 Plueky gnu], tg! Boy Pampectm.

BY MAJOR E. 1.. ST. VBAIN.

99! Sum-Inn Pedro lh- Boy Bandit.

col Lundvllle Niel. n... is... 3......

819 lledtop Rube, I la Vigilante Prince.

BBB llrlmltone Rob. and HI: Lightning Ham Q
858 Tombstone Tom. lh- Arllonn Boy of “Sud.”
859 Jun-um haw», lhu Ywung Uiuum ion “‘uulnr.
371 Kln boll. Clark, the Yuan: Hard-Shell Dull!“
8&0 Ava niche All: the Foothills Guide.

.90 Il.‘u.' J00. of the Mountain Mall-Li...

 
BY EDWARD S. ELLIS.» 4,

6 Bill Blddon, Tran er. 3
9 82“! Jones; or, 1‘ ie Captives of the Froﬂtlar.
10 Nut Todd a or, The FM» of the Sioux Cilplivc. _
It The Frontier Angel. ’-
93 The lloy Mlncn: or. Tha Enchanted island.
13% The llunled Hunter; nr,’l'ho Slum e Horn-n.-
354 The Half-“load; or, 111:) Panther o the Plains.
3?! The Huge llullterl or, Thcisuun Pnlrlo Man.

by J. c. OOWDRICK.

.00 m vaguuuk‘ the Man of Mth .
869 Hula—m. line (gold King: (mgr Sou-u Ylll'l Did. -.
430 The lutectlva’l A prentlceq or,A Buy Withoutst
494 Clblltu Jonnl or. ell-Hot Tim-- at Ante Bar. ,
I) (In.tu Faun. the Strut Swill.
ll‘! Ill-co Dan. tho "Ill" Duds. ,
00 “mildly-$3 “g. t ll Boalhiuil Bravo.
506 Iledll ht up , lhu Prince unlinked.
5a lilac-lg... Bl I ’hﬂﬁodle.
a an e 0 ve.
5 "' um i. ‘Dllllkllty."
l lit preu Detective. .
ll 1 M ii 1:11,; gathEliiuckGh V. L '
r-.ne.ue um nnau. .
 gge gnu-ﬁe 51;” or, $mdway Billy’s lupin-Party. !\
o 0 II or on. g
.605 ’ agmﬁmndwayé qr,’l'thnyDemdvo'cnlgmhg. >~
815 F‘lghllllr Inn-r the lust of Chained Cynic-o. .
can Brondvo Billy’s Dead Act. ‘-
040 Daub" Bet , the Centaur of the Circle.
641 Typewriter Tilly, the Merchant’s Ward.

'5 f Broade

 
IISOELLAN IOU! AUTHOBI.

tims§kﬂ$ﬁzé§ “nuts. or Cm. Mano Ran all .
In- >
I. thﬁzor’leel‘2nveﬁrln Bel-n s I.
I4 Aladdin: or. Tho Wound-I hmp.
16 Robinson Drums. (in Illustrations.)
‘18 Shaun! the Inllor. Hll Swell Va ,
88 The Do. lune-t; or,‘l‘ln Boy Robinson Cum. I’ll-

mi 000.; gwmnd| or, The M Pinks of the:
“Elﬁn, lawn; or. 11.. Queen omutuu. h hank. -.

ll-
usxeawui IllBoSclr 1- Jk. \
51 10-1.? 3.31 .1. Ari: U "5' ‘45.... n, m

. ro . '
95 The lit-I'll Raven-v onmmom. Iliad-int. , r , , i .
Iy “OIL-Col. Hmltllui. -
to Rain ﬂood. ta. Onward when“. lorry In of Gluc- ' ,
W . . “durum ‘ l
105 all |mnl$¢~ tho Hut»; u, The crew cumin. I! m, u
M . v,
u- rlu am in»... or, men-«Dana. I’m-Inn.» r

 
I“ guppy. the '1‘qu or. The You; Chap“. 1, M
m Theﬁh Punk»: 02.11. Plnto’l lilo-gum g,

 
v lab. r
1 or m Adult-m at. Mailing .
Hummus ~ 'v M.
.m N, 1| lull. 'l'h Gnu ﬁlaments!“-

Do I". “Fur-'3‘» Ibo H.011 rk Be a I. III—d
I I - - n 4
'3‘ Rum... a? Ethel own", cmh'tt'a
In 0. .w r.
“I

     
mu.
w thaOazlyod Timmno’umumcui'

I
he LI
817 Pmﬁs‘thgném voly lad hon mum. I: Hou-

      
nmﬂu «A soy-.muu Lilo-d 4

3;. pi. e luv” Bcvugudm We Icy
."Tl m “33...... mail». bar In"

:3: gas-n an a. ll...- Double luck. Dy all... ii.»

an calori- aw. mu hall. by Colonel 
no mu!- . / .

    
Tim-vino)... If

u" ' M" Autumn-II. *
ran-l. :'

   
mus... .....
«an. " mug-mus. 
I ', Axow M, Ivory Told".
mmmmummw-amu
cpipucm,mmotbynallnmmcllllmuu&. I
- WHWADAKI. rum-Ian. ‘
 manning-immoral.»

    
Vl‘BWild

 
‘Beadle’s Dime Library.

 
MO The Three Spaniards. By Geo. Walk.
A Equinox Tom. the B of Bed Rock; or, Dan
Brown‘s Mssterstrokguy By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

‘18 Captain Crimson. the Man of the Iron Face; or
The Nemesis of the Plains. By Maj. Dangerﬁeld

148 The Czar's Spy; or, The Nihilist League. By
Col. T. H. Monetary.

144 The Hunchback lot NotreIDame.
Hugo. ‘

145 Pistol Pards; or, Soft Handithe Silent Sport
from Cinnabar. By Wm. B. Eyster.

145 The Doctor Detective; or, The Mystery of the
Golden Coﬂn.‘ By George Lemuel.

l4? Gold Spur, the Gentleman from Texas; or. The
Child of theﬂegiment. By Colonel Prentiss
Ingraham.

1a One-Armo<'l Alf, the Giant Hunter of the Great
Lakes By 011 Coome.

I49 The Border Riﬂes. By Gustave Almard.
150 iii Ruble Bravo, King of the Swtrdsmen: or.
By Col.

By Victor

The Terrible Brothers oi! Tabasco.
Thomas Hoyer Monstery.

151 The Freebooters. By Gustave Aimard.

15% Captain Ironnerve, the Counterfeiter Chief- or.
'li‘hu Gypsy Queen's Legacy. By Mai-m uke
Jay.

15? The White Scalper. By Gustave Aimard.
lot Joaquin, the Saddle King. ByJos. E. Badger.

155 The Corsair een; Or. The Gypsies of the Sea.
By Col. Prent ss Ingraham.

156 Velvet Face the Border Bravo; or Muriel. the
Danlte‘s Bride. By Mad. 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. ﬂank Powell.

159 Red Rudiger. the Archer or The Lady Bertha‘s
Treachery. By Capt. F. 'W ttaker.

"3 Sort Hand Sharp; or. The Man With the Sand.
By Wm. B. Eyster.

'- 0' The wolves of New York; or. Joe Phenix‘s
Great

Man-Hunt. By A. W. Aiken.

169 The Mad Mariner; or. Dishonoredi and Disewned.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

delinean theTra rCa n;or.B.ed c
n, ppeﬁﬁzalinwn pub,

the Avenger. By Dr. J.

184 The King’s Fool' or The Kin hts of the Clasped
Hands and Bed israiich. By%. D. Clark.

165 Joaquin, the Terrible. By'J. E. Badger. Jr.

106 Owlet. the Robber Prince; or ’The Unknown
Highwayman. By Septlmus B. rhea. 4

m The Man of Steel‘ or The Masked Knight otthe
White Plume. By s.‘ 2. Morris.

thePlstol Dead sm- or, Dagger-Don’s
now?“ By Colonel Prentiss tum-m, .

Can th Man 21' Duels.
’09 Colonel omlésgnfioy‘hrMiziligtes-y‘jwy 3"

170 SweetWiiliam, mom I Detecting-or The
Chief of! the Crimsonpﬁn. By Joseph E.
Badger, r. - r

in Tiger Dick. the Man or the Iron Heart; or, The
Dumb Bandit. By Philip S. Warns. 

m The Black‘PlrIte' or. The Mystery otth Golden
Potters. By colonel r. Ingraham. °

. he '

m mwﬁkﬁt Pacino'rhorooghhred. By
in The Phantom Knights.  IBWhim.
ls m-ﬂll’s'l'rnnpossdt «dbl-(leaﬂets..-

VI mm:the  Queen, Byihptaln
mgz‘heSela'tBByPCoL.Pren‘thlms ’1‘?" i '

inDsrkDash th rate Th Child}
" tneSun. gymﬂajorem 0'" 6 ~ 0‘

v ‘ 0 th vict' ,w' n can "
 “Wodﬁdenhﬁkrﬁnf m 3’
‘ mOld'G;or,TheAmasonotArllons. ByJosL‘lt‘.

‘BsdgerJr.

mTheiearletSchoonr‘ TheNmssu' ith
Sea‘ByCoLPrentigs‘lnoérahsm. \o‘ -.

mama: :or,’ﬂaeK.nightsottheCanyon.iBy
Win-B. . . .’ ,

1 "' magma...” °" W l“- 

lﬂThe’OoeanV‘ ~ ‘ -' '
wcglmge90ryghema0astls

 lﬁ‘,mmgpidu; By
- unva _ ,mm‘ '
  313mnt . ’ ‘." ~'
‘ av ‘ and - ;
mornings: Whenotw

mm aw“. .‘“‘°

.ﬂwndm
* ammo." sum,  ovum-an" 

   
l

191 Th -. errible Tonkawa - or Old Roe and His
2‘1 By Buckskin ’m. ’ ky

192 Tbcfghtning Sport- or, The Bad Man at Slaugh-
ter' or. By W. R. yster.

193 The Man in Red; or. The Ghost of the Old Guard.
By Capt. F. Whittaker.

194 Don Sombrero, the California Road Gent: or.
$11? 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 of More . By Albert W. Aiken.

197 Revolver Bob, the Red-Handed: or, The Belle of
Nugget Camp. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr,

198 The Skeleton Schooner or. The Skimmer of the
Sea By Col. Prentiss fugraharn. .

13? Diamond Dick, the Dandy from Denver. By
Buckskin Sam.

900 The Riﬂe Rangers or. Adventures in Southern
Mexico. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

201 The Pirate of the Pincers; or. Joaquln's Death
Hunt. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

332 Cactus Jack. the Giant Guide: or, The Masked
Robbers of Black Bend. By Capt. Mark Wilton.

i138 The Double Detective: or The Midnight Mys-
tery. By Albert W. Aiken:

9304 Bl -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.

soc One Eye, the Cannoneer; or. Marshal Ney's Last
Legacy. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker. ’

an Old Hard Head; or Whirlwind and His Milk
White Mare. By Philip S. Warne.

208 The White Chief. By Capt: Mayne Reid.

5m Buck Farley, the Bonanza Prince; or. The Bo-
mance of Death Gulch. By Edward Willett.

210 Buccaneer Bess, the Lioness of the Sea; or, The
Red Sea Trail. By Col. P. Ingraham.

211 Colonel Plu r: or. The Unknown Sport. By
Capt. Freda ck Whittaker.

212 The Brews New or, The Minute-Men of
Fort Belknap. By uckskin Sam.

218 The War Trail; or, The Hunt of the Wild Horse.
By Capt. Mayne Reid.

£14 The Two 0001 Sports; or, Gertie oi the Gulch.
- By Wm. B. Eyster‘.
815Psrson J ‘ King of the Cowboys; or, The
Gentle Sb ’8 Big “Clean-Out. ‘ By Capt.
Frederick hittaker. v " '

216 The Corsair Planter: or, Driven to Doom. By
COL Pmntis Ingraham.

217 The Belgient of El Peso; or Frontier Frank.,the
Scout 0 the Rio Grande. By Buckskin Sam.

218 TheWild Huntress: or, The Big Squatter's Ven-
geance. By Capt. Mayne Reid.

9319 The See ion Brothers; or. Mad Tom’s Mission.
By Cap Mark Wilton. r

2]) The S ter Yacht- or A Brother’s Crime.
Col. .ngrahsm. ’ ’ By

an rate Duke. the Guadaiou e “ Gsloot.”
Buc n Sam. p 3’

mm]. the Blizzard- or Red Jackst’s Double
Crime. ByEdwa Willett. i

228 Canyon Dave, the Man of the Mountain- or.
The Toughs of Silver Spur. By Captain Mark
Wilton:

Bi Black Beard the Buccaneer or The Curse of
the Coast. By Col. P. lngi'alizsn.1 1

Mo tai Al' N N
“WM?& IBy Blfcl’tskinr  tho w."

unsalted Hussars- or. The 0’s. the Mae‘s.
_ _' By Capt. F. Whittaker. 

e  redeemed;
as The Maroon. By Capt. Mayne Reid. ‘

ins W€;%l&ov§z ﬁnch-meme the Little
“*3 ornamentehe W m
“81 32f..wa  eh M... W of
m ‘grgn gdron: 'or‘urho River Mya-

ras The Old Boy of Tombstones or. w erlng a
Life onacard. By J. r. Badger, Jr. '8

sad The Hunters' Feast. By Capt. likyne Reid.

/

mocha ionsz remand .
By E '1‘. H. Magic”? , a“).

when} Hatred:  .rrhs' mm
Coast. ByCapt. oWilton. , “m

MHank’HoundWh‘eCre‘seentCI‘l‘Detecﬁ -
TheOwlsotNeW'Orlnans. fanné'ﬁp"

mm 1 rrio;or.rhoan,i¢'iho,sw.

 
slashed htn ,the Msn-otCh . h-
M 3%» Gulch. By ﬁ3h°% ~

 
m x in

240 A Cool Head; or, Orson On in 9.2:». By Isaac
Haw s.

241 Spitfire Saul. King
Dixie’s Grand “ ound-Up."
Badger, Jr.

942 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 Walt of t ie Flood. By “Buckskin Sam.
Maj. Sam S. Hall.

245 Barrsnca Bill. the Revolver Champion; or. The
Witch 2 the Weeping Willows, By Captain
Mark ilton.

248 ueen Helen. the Amazon of the Overland: or,
he Ghouls of the Gold Mines. By Col. Prentiss
Ingraham.

247 Alligator lke; or The Secret of the Everglade.
By Capt. Fred Whittaker.

248 Montana Net the Lion of Last Chance Camp.
B" Iii-ward Will-en.

249 ElephantT m, of Durango; Or, for.“ Gold Dust
or Your L‘ e. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr

250 The Rough Riders; or. Sharp-Eye, the Seminole
Scourge. By Buckskin Sam.

251 Tiger Dick vs. Iron Des ard: or, Every Man Has
His Match. By P. S. arne. ,-

252 The Wall Street Blood; or. Tick, Tick, the Tale-
graph Glrl. 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'l
Daughter. By 001. P. Ingraham.

256 Double Dan. the Bastard: or, The Pirates of the
Pecos. By Buckskin Sam.

257 Death-Trap Diggings; or. A Hard Man from
’Way Back. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

258 Bullet Head, the Colorado Bravo. or The Pris-
$518!! of the Death Vault. By Captain Mark
ton.

259 Cutlass and Cross; or, The Ghouls of the Sea.
By Colonel Prentiss Ingraham.

o! the Bustiers: or, ueen
By Josep I.

'260 The Masked M story or The Black Crescent.
.P. Morris.y ‘ '

ByA

$1 Black Sam. the Prairie Thunderbolt; or. Th.-
. Bandit-Hunters. By Col. Jo Yards.

262 Fighting Tom. the Terror of the Tough; By
Col. Thomas Hoyer Monster-y.

sea Iron-Armed Abe. the Hunchback Destro er: or.
The Black Riders' Terror. Capt. Mark ilton.

264 The Crooked Three' or The Black Hearts of
the Guadalupe. By Buckskin Sam.

565 Old Double-Sword; or. Pilots and Pirates. By
Captain Frederick Whittaker. '

use Leo d Luke, theKl of Horse-Thieves‘ or
Tasfgvamp Squatter’ggDoom. By Capt. Mark
on.

m'rhewmtesqusw. BstoMayneBeid.

368 Ma c Mike, the. Man of Frills: or. Bad Ben's
. 3.5 illiam B. Eyster. '

I Brigade. By W
289 The Bayou Bravo: or, The Terrible. Trail. By
Buckskin Sam.

270 Andros, the Free Rover; or, The Pirate's,
Daughter. By Ned Buntline.

an Stonenst of N t ° or Old Ket-
chum’s Tug otBVigar. ‘ By Capt. ’ k'Wilton.

27: Seth Slocum. Railroad Surveyor' or The Secret
oi Sitting Bull. By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.

'im Mountain Mose the Gorge Outlaw; or, Light

Horse Leon’s‘ ve Fights tor Life. B
skin Sam. '

m FlushFred the Mississi mor Tough.
Times in Tehnessee. By "83?

m The Smug’gler Cutter; or, The Cavern in the
Chit. By .D. Conroy. ’
B76 Texas Chick- the Sonthwost Detective; or.

r Lil,’fheVltureQueen. Cstain
Miggwllgon. u 3’ p

‘97? The Sauc Jane Privateer: or The Hunting of
Old Iron es. ByCapt. mod’Whittoker. .

sis Hercules Golds ur. the no. of the Velvet and:
or, The Poker een’s Drop Game. By Captain
Howard Holmes. . m 3

m The Gold Dragon; «ii-{rho California mood-
hound. By William H. 

sao Black—Hos: Ben-Aer Tiger Dick’s Lane Elna.
syrhuips.w '9,” .

wirhoseoow Isa cope-nonhon
r By Colonel

ass'rho cl] MaraderstorCha Heuri-
M$.gmchkiun8m.' m "

.ssasleoksomthenovnoi Mikkel-ﬁgs.“

ogthel‘leryoross. ByJOSJ‘J» _ .
.8!  test or.  
*6“ htawdiiia‘kmwdﬁumwv

‘m

  
l 

 
ought--. .

 
3.

 
.. l I .- .4

  
~ i

Beadle’s Dime"

Library. "

 
287 Dandy Dave. and His Horse, White Stocking;
or. Ducats or Death. By Buckskin Sam.

288 Electro Pete, the Man of Fire; or, The Wharf
Rats of Locust Point. B A. P. Morris.

289. Flush Fred’s Full Hum : or, Life and Strife in ‘

. Louisiana. By Edward Willctt.
290 The Lost Corvette: or Blakeley’s Last Cruise.
By Capt. Fred. Whitta ’01‘.

291 Horseshoe Hunk. the Man of Big Luck: or, The ‘

Gold Brick or“ ldaho. By Cant. Mark Wilton.

292 Moke Homer. the Boss Roustabout; or. The
Fresh-Water Sharks of the Overﬂow.
Badger, Jr.

293 Stampede Stevo; or, The Doom of the Double 1

Face. By Buckskin Sam.
294 Broadcloth Burt, the Denver Dandy: or. The

Thirty Pards of Deadwood. B Capt. H. Holmes. 1

295 Old Cross-Eye. the MaveriCHHunti-r; or. The
Night Riders of Satanta County. By Capt. F.
Whittaker. .

296 Duncan. the Sea-Diver; or. The Coast Vultures.
By George St. George.

297 Colorado Rube. the Strong Arm of Hotspur

City- or, The Giant Brothers of Buzzard Roost. ‘

By illiam H. Manning.

298 Logger Lem; or, Life and Peril in the Pine
Woods. B Edward Willett.

299 Three of a ind. Tigsr Dick, Iron Despard, and
the Sportive Sport. By P. S. Warne.

300 ASport in Spectacles; or. The Bad Time at
Bunco. By illiam R. Evster.

301 Bowldrr Bill; or. The
Buckskin Sam.

302 Faro Saul. the Handsome Hercules; or, The
Grip of Steel. By Joseph E. Badger. .Jl'.

an from Taos. By

303 Top-Notch Tom, the Cowboy Outlaw; or The ‘

Sntanstown Elvetion. By Ca t. Whittaker.

804 Texas Jack. the Prairie Ratt er; or, The Queen 1

of! the Wild Riders. By Buﬂ’alo Bill.

805 Silver-Plated Sol the Montana Rovar; or, Giant
Dave‘s Fight with Himself. By Capt. Mark
Wilton.

306 The Roughs of Richmond' or The Mystery of
the Golden Beetle. By A. . orris.

807 The Phantom Pirate; or, The Water Wolves of
the Bahamas. By Col. P. Ingraham.

3w Hemlock Hank. Tough and True' or. The
Shadow of Mount Kathadin. By E. Willett.

309 Raybold. the Battling Ranger; or. Old Rocky’s
Tough Cam sign. By Buckskin Sam.

810 The Mars of Satanstown; or. The League of
the Cattle-Lifters. By Ca t. Fred. Whittaker.

311 Heavy Hand. the Relent ass; or, The Marked
Men of Paradise Gulch. By Capt. M. Wilton.

312 Kinkfoot Karl. the Mountain Scourge; 0!" Wip-
ing out the Score. By Morris Redwmg1

313 Mark Magic Detective. By A. P, Moms.

814 Laﬁtte; gr. he Pirate of the Gulf. By Prof. J.

. ngra am.

315 Flush Fred‘s Double~ or. The Squatters’ Lealnw
of Six. B Edward illett.

316 Laﬁtte’s ‘eutenant; or, Theodore. the Child of

the a. B Prof. J. H. I rahun.
l 817 Frank Li hl’foot, the Milleli'gDetective. By J. E.
or. r. .
318 The ndian Buccaneer, or Red Rovers on Blue

Waters. B Col. Prentiss lngraham.
819 Wild Bill. t e Whirlwind of the West. By Buf-

falo l

320 The Gentoel Spotter; or, the Night Hawks of
New York. A, . on. I . r

321 California Claude. the Lone Bandit. By Captain
Howard Holmes.

322 The Crimson Coyotes; or, Nita, the Nemesis.
gy Buckskin Sam._ ,. .

323 otspur Hugh' or The Banded Brothers of the
Giant’s Am. B Captain Mark Wilton.

$4 Old Forked Lig thing. the Solitary; or, Every
Inch 3. Man. By Jos. E. Badger Jr.

8‘35 The Gentlgigian Pirate' or, The Hermit of Casco

Bay. B l. P. In to. -

$6 The Whllest Man in the Mines. By Captain F.
Whittaker. ’

327 Terrapin Dick. the Wild Woods Detective; or,
Trailing a Traitor. B Edward Willett.

328 Kin Kent; or. The audits of the Boson. By
Buc skin Sam.

829 The Dengue or Three' or. Bill!an Billy Pledge.

B Col. Prentiss In rs am.
380 Caged, The Quak‘ei- City Detective. By Chan.

M.) s.
831 Chis Charle the Gold Nugget S ort' or The
Rock); Mountgn Masks. Bym”. E. ’ , Jr.
882 Spring-Heel Jack; or The sked Mystery of
eTower. ‘By 001. onstery.
338 gms% Dtgck, the Man with the Drop. By
.’ . s r. .
334 glihfuolpheyr Derteﬂllve- or. Mark Magic on a New
- . - . or .
335 “8511 Dan. the Nabob- or. The Blades of Bowie
Bill'- BY Cagtain H. o mes.
336 The Mme an? or, The Freebooters of Sandy
Hook. By Col. . mgr-sham.
337 Old Gabe. the Mountain Tram ; or The Tragedy
338 Jgé‘kleSanegethe Bossc‘mPf'cfy ' w ett' 1;! I
. o - '
of Fiddler’s Folly. ,Phe 5g?“ 3.3:“ 00
3“ mules Hide-Hunter.

340 ool Conrad, the
By

341 if”? Despe- rad ByC m“
e 63 0. 0 n . -
342 Blanco Bill. the Mustang niﬂrfhmg‘m

skin am. ”
348 The ad Hunter: 01‘. Hull Magic in the Mines.

ByA.P.M

or .
844 Double Shot Dave of the Left Hand; or, 1 Com

Wave at lack Dam. By_Wm. R, _
345' md 31:. the Mounted Detective. 13me,
. r, r.

an Ocean gunning- or, The Hunter momma...
By Col. Prentiss n am i
847 Denver Duke the
e Sun's no Hand. By Captain

olmes. '

Wild W k. ward Willott

sit Lion-Hearted Dick. the Gentleman Rood-Agent.
on.

ByAlhm W. All:

aw plague», the socieiyineteoaye. By Woldon‘
361 Nor‘west' ﬁt. the Border Dotéctivo' or, Dnn'

Brown‘s F“ t tor me. By Joi- E. 1'. Jr.

By J. E. .

y Buck-

an With Band; or Conn.
Howard.

“3 Dan Dillon, Enigf Crosscut; or, A Woman's
By .

I 852 The Desperate Dozen; or. The Fair Fiend of the

i C(nur d‘Aleiie. By Capt. Howard Holuir—s.

, 353 Burl) Brennan. the Train Wrecker' or, The King

i of Straight li‘lusli. By John Cutli art.

854 Red Richard; or. The Brand of the Crimson

i Cross. By Albert \\’. Aiken.

‘ 355 The Mad Athlete; or, The. Worst Fill in the Box.
By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

356 l‘hree Handsome Sgn'ts; or. The Double Com-

i liinatiou. By Wm. .Eystcr.

. 357 Jack Simons. Ill-tuctive; or, The Wolves of

Washington. B A. 1’. Morris.

i 358 The Prince of ’aii Out; or. The Beautiful Na-
vajo‘s Mission. By Buckskin Sum.

359 Yellow Jack, the Mvstizm or, Tiger Dick to the
Rescue. By Philip S. Name.

360 Jumping Jeri-y. lile (jniiiecouk l'i'o'n Sundown;
or, A Craw Full of Sand. By J. E. Badger, Jr.

i 361 Tombstone Dick. the Train Pilot; or, The Trai-

tor’s Trail. By Ned Bunlline.
362 Bulfalo Bill’s Grip: ur, Oath-Bound to Custer.
By Col. Prentiss ingraliam.

1 363 Crowningshioid. the Detective; or, Pitiless as
Death. B Albert W. Aiken.

364 The Sea gitive; or. The Queen of the Coast.
B Col. Prentiss Ingrahain.

365 can Keunnrd, the Shasta Shadow; or, The
Branded Face, By Capt. Howard Holmes.

366 The Telegraph Deteclive; or, The Dynamite
League. By George Hom- Morse.

367 A Royal Flush; or. Dan ruwn‘s Big Game of
Freeze-Out. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr.

368 The Can on King; or, A Price on His Head. By
Edward illett.

369 The Coast Corsair; or, Madca Madge. the Siren
of the Sea. By Col. Prentiss ngraham.

370 The Dusky Detective; or, I’ursucd to the End.
By A. W. Aiken.

‘ 371 Gold Buttons; or, The Up‘Range Pards. By

' Buckskin Sam. .1

372 Captain Crisp. the Man with a Record. By
Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

373 The Sailor of Fortune; or. The Buccaneers of
Barnegat Bay. By Col. Prentiss Insraham.

374 Major Blister. the Sport of Two Cities; or The
Broadwa s otter in the Black Hills. By Capt.
Howard 0 mes.

375 Royal George. the Three in One; or. The Cold
Deck on Blazers. By Wm. B. Eysrer.

876 The Black Beards; or, The High Horse on the
Rio Grande. ‘By Albert W. Aiken.

877 Aﬂoat and Ashore; or. The Corsair Conspirator.
By Col. Prentiss In sham.

878 John Armstrong. echsnic; or. From the Bottom
to the Top of the Ladder. By Capt. F. Whittaker.

379 Howling Jonathan; or. The Terror from Head.
waters. By Jon. E. Badger. Jr.

880 The Goldeu Serpent; or, Tiger Dick’s Pledge.
By P. S. Warne.

881 T e ypsy Gentleman; or. Nick Fox. the Demon
Detective. B Albert W. Aiken.

882 The Bonanza and; or. Dread Don, of ' the Cool
Clan. By Ca t. Howard Hblmes.

383 Silver Sam, he Detective; or The Bustiers of
ButsteACity. By Major Daniel Boone Dumant,

U. . .

884/Injun Dick. Detective; or. Tracked from the
Rockies to New York. B Albert W. Aiken.

885 Wild Dick Turpin the Zion of Leadville; or,
The Lone Hand. By Wm. H. Manning.

386 Hawk Heron, the Falcon Detective; or. The
Gotham Flats Mystery. By Jackson Knox, (Old

. Hawk.)

887 Dark Duns. the Ishmael of the Hills; or. The
Gold Phantom. 13me E. Badger. Jr.

The Giant Buccaneer; or, The Wrecker Witch
of Death Island. By c’oionei r. In sham.

889 Colonel Doubleed :3, the Cattle on’s Pard'
or, The Marshal o Sandstone. By Major Daniel

. Boone Dumont. U. S. A.

890 The Giant Cupid; or. Cibuta John's Great
Jubilee. ‘By J. C. Cowdrick.

891 Kate Scott the Decoi Detective; or, Joe Phe-
nix’s Still unt. By . W. Aiken.

892 The Lost Bonanza; or. The Boot of Silent
Hound. By Ca. tain Howard Holines.

898 The Convict aptain; or. The Battles of the
Buccaneers. By Colonel Prentiss linifraham.

394 White Beaver. the Exile of the utter or, a
Wronged Man’s Red Trail. By Buﬂalo Bill.

895 Deadly Aim. theDuke of Del-ringers; or. aFight
for Five Millions. By Jos. E. Badger. Jr. .

896 The Piper Detective; or, The G t Edge Gang.
By Wm. B. Eyster. ‘

897 T e Wizard Brothers; or, White Denver’s Red
- Trail. By B lo Bill./

898 Sleepless Eye. the Pacific Detective; or, Run-

ning Down a. Double. By Goo. C. Jenks. A ‘

899 The New Monte C sto; or. The Wandering Jew

' of the Sea. By Co nel Prentiss In ham.

400 Captain Coldgrip, the S rt Detecgma; or. The
New York Spotter in olorado. By Captain
Howard Holmes. ,

401 The One-Arm Pard- or Red Retribution in Bor-
derland.‘ By Buaaio Bin. » .

402 Snapshot Sam. the Pistol Sharp; or, The Racket
at Angels' Flat. By Wm. R. Eyster.

408 The Nameless Sport; or, The Kilkonny Cats of

 
true.
405 Old Bald . the Brigadier of Buck Basin; or,
Hunted own by a. ,Woman. By William H.

Manning. . .
408 Old Po Hicks. Show-man; or, Lion Charley’s

Luck. y Capt. F. Whittaker.
407 Captain Coldgri ‘s Nem' or.‘ Injun Nick ,on
Deck B Capt. award olinos.

- y .
408 Doc Grl . the Spyting‘betective; or. the Von-
detta of oath. y Albert W. Aiken.
400 Rob Roy chh- or. The Imps of the Pan Han-
dle. Joseph B. Badger. Jr. - ‘
410 Sarah wn. D reclive; or, The Mystery of the
Pavilion. ,Bv K. F. Hill. . ,
411 The White Crook; or Old Esrk‘s Fem-ass» By
Major Daniel Boone Damont. '
lorry Iocke. the Man of Iron; or. A Night for
Fortune. ‘By Capt. Fred. Whittaker.
413 Captain ,Cgldém:&i$NﬁwlYoﬁ; or, The Dragon
" . Leanne. . . 0 mos.
414 Bed Renard? the Indian Detective; or. The Gold
- Buzzards of Colorado. By Bufralo Bill.
415 Hot Heart. the‘ Detective, ' The Red
Jaguar‘s Mission; Bme » ‘

«an».

 
. . .
\

 
‘ Holmes. . . '
. 461 The Fresh onthe Rio Grande: or, TheRed Riders,

Way  Bv Jon. E. Badger. Jr. ,
404 Silver iMe Sid; or. A Daisy Bluﬂ. By Philip S.

 
416 Monte Jim. the Black Sheep of Bismarck. By
J as. E. Badger, Jr.
417 Tucson Tom, the Bowie Brave; or. the Fire
Trailers. By Georgi- St. George. ‘ .
418 Sibyl. theSea Siren: or,’l‘he Fugitive Privateer.
By Col. P. Inaralium. . _
419 The Bat 91' the Battery; or, J00 Phi-nix.1\lng
. of Detectives. By Albert W. Ajkun.
4:30 The Old River Sport; or, A Man of Honor. By
Maj. Daniel Boone Duinont.
421 Fatln-r li‘vrrl't. the ’Fn'sco Shadow; or The Queen
of Dow ~Notch. By Ca lain Howard liolml-s.
422 Blm- Grass Burt, the old Star Detective: or.
ToDuty Bound, to Vengeance Sworn. By J. C.
Cmvdrick.
42'} Thu Lom- Hand; or, The Recreaan ot the Red
River. liy Albert W. Aiken.
424 Hawk Heron‘s Deputy: or. Nixey‘s Nip. By
Jackson Knox. (Old Hawk.)
425 The Sun Sword; or. The Ocean Rivals. By Col.
P. Ingrahnm.
426 Thu Ghost Detective: or. The Spy of the Secret
Service. By Joseph E. Badger. r.
42? The Rivals of Montana Mills; or. Redgrave, the
Renegade. By Wm. H. Manning. , 
428 'Illhe Flying Gliin; or. The Island Lure. By Leon
e“ is. »
420 Hair Trigrer Tom of Red Bend; or. All Wool
and a Yuri Wide. By William R. Eyster. ._ 
£30 The Fatal Frigate: or, Rivals in Love and War. ‘*
By Colonel Prentiss Iiigraham. .
431 California Kit. the Always on Hand; or, The '
Mountain Rivals. By Philip S. \Vame.
432 The Giant Horseman; or. Tracking the Red
7 Cross Gang. By George C. Jenks.
438 Laughing Lco: or. Spread Eagle Sam’s Dandy
Pard. B Jose h E. Badger. Jr.
434 Lucifer ynx. t 19 Wonder Detective; or, A Cool
Hand Among Hot Heads. By Ca t. H. Holmes.
435 The One-Armed Buccaneer; or. he Havenless
Cruiser. By Col. Prentiss lngraham.
436 Kentucky Jean, the Sport From Yellow Pine
By J. C. Cowdrick.
48'? Deep Duke, the Silent Sharp; or. The Man of
Two Lives. By Wm. H. Manninﬁ
438 Oklahoma Nick; or, Boomer olt‘s Surprise
Party. By Joseph E. Badger. Jr.
489 Salamander Sam: or, The Swamp Island Reno-
ades. By Major D. B. Dumont.

  
440 Alix; High Horse of the Paciﬁc. By Albert W. 
en.
441 The California Sharp or. The Trail of the Gold-

en Grandee. By Capt. Howard Holmes.
442 Wild West Walt the Mountain Veteran; or, The
Gunmakers of World’s End. By w. .H. Manning.
443 A Cool Hand; or. Pistol Johnnv‘s Picnic at To
Notch. By Joseph E. Badgler. Jr. -
444 The Magic Detective; or, '1' e Hidden Hand. By ,
Jackson Knox. «
445 Journeyman John, the Chain ion; or. The Win-
ning Hand. By Capt. Fred. hiuaker.
446 Ocean 0 e. the Outcast Corsair; or. The Good
Ship of l-Omen.’ By Col. P. Inmham.
447'Volcano. the ‘Frisco Spy' or. The Secret of the
t Seven. By Ca . Howard Holmes.
448 Hark Kenton. the T tor; or, The Hunted Life.
B Ma or D. Burr. ., ,
449 Bliiﬂ urke, King of the Rockies; or, The Black
Stake Rivals. By Wm. H. Manning.
.450 The Rustler Detective; or, The Bounding Buck
from Buﬂslo Wallow. By J. E. Badger. r. ‘
451 Grlplock. the Rocket Detective; or. The Hon- ‘
show Mystery. By Jackson Knox.
‘ Bo . the Tulip from Texas; or. The ‘
S t Saint's Mission. By J. C. Cowdri . '
4521 Captain Cold 'p‘s Lon Trail: or. The Rivals 9!
Silver Deck y Capt. owsrd Holme . I

     
454 The N ht Raider: or. The Mysterious under. .
B Hagar D. B. Dumont. '
455 an): ellowblrd. the‘Tsll Hustler of the Hills;

or The Conspirstors of Medicine Springs. By

in. . mg. -

456 Thelhmon Steer; or, The Outlaws on the Ahlv .,
lene Cattle Trail. By Lecm Lewis. . A

457 The Sea. Insurgent; or. The Conspirator's Son.
By 001. Prentiss In 'aham.

458 Dutch Dan. the Pi rim from Spitzenhe ; or.‘
The Roe osophx

ky Racket at Rough Rob 11. By

E. Bad er. Jr. .1 g
459 Major V unshine. the Man of ThreeLives: or. The‘
Waiting Waits at Gil Thar. By Wm. B. Enter.
460 Captain Coldgrl . the City Detective; or. The
Conic» Woman New York. By Capt. Howard

   
of Rs on. By Albert W. Aiken, ..
462 The ircus Detective; or. Grlplock in a New
Role. By Jackson Knox. . i . .
468 Gold Gauntlet. the Gulch Gladiator-r012 Ynnk.’
\

  
Y_ellowblrd’s Hot Campaign. By Wm. H.
ning.

464 S'iudvcraw, the Man of Grlt' or. The River
Sport’s Revenge. By Major D.'B. Dumant.

465 The Actor Detective. 33 Albert W. Aiken. . ~

466 Old Rough and Resdv. t e Sacco! Sundown; or. I
Not for Life but for Honor. By J. E. BadgerJr. ’

467 Mainwariug the Salamander not. The Detectives
Ordeal. By Jackson Knox; '

468 Cnidan in Deadwood; or. The Great Detecm’
Double TrsiL 35 Captain H. Holmes. .  ~

469 The Lieutenant- etective; or. The Fugitive M-

or. P. I ham. . _
470 The talk Yellowbird’

 
l.
Iﬁmuog n ‘tirm is" i
er an e . m. . nn . I
471 ﬁleyﬁeart of 05: Detectin. or. Tina‘s l'un «
Hand. Ev E. A. St. Mox. - r ' I . ~
472 Six-Foot Si; or. The Man to“ Tie To”, By 2. S.

Warns. ..
478 Gilbert of Gotham. the Steel Armbgteotive; o .

.htingthePowersolA . - .. u ,
474 gains Dead-Eye,i é  ’Dow’Dror' 0:.
13°"?

    
v 0 so] from .' B Jos. E.
.475 Pin  the Chinese De
Work of the Black Bond. 3611..
Bro t. Buccaneer; or.
y 001 . Ingmham. _ r l .
477 Dead-Ann randt; or.\Tbo Long Vengeance.
11v Jackson ax, r ‘ I  g. r
478 Pinnacle Pete: or. The  From Way Back.
By W. B.‘ yi-ter. 3m ,.; '
479 Gladiator Gabe. the Samson 0! Sims ‘ ‘or
Yank Xenopr emu Crusade. Bywix‘i. n!

        
.

.

7507The

' ‘IBEADLE'saeDIMEaéILBRARY.

Published Every Wednesday. Each Issue Complete and Sold at the Uniform Price of Ten Cents. No Double Numbers.

 
480 Hawks ar, the Man with a Secret; or, New
York ick‘s Spirit Trail. By Captain Howard
Holmes.

481 The Silent Detectives; or. The Bogus Nephew.
By Leon Lewis.

482 Ocean Tramps: or, The Desperadoes of the Deep.
By Col. P. Ingraham.

483 Flush Fred. the River Sharp; or, Hearts for
Stakes. By Ed. Willett.

484 Ca taln Ready. the Bed Ransomer: or Nick
P die‘s Wild West Inheritance. By Leon Lewis.

485 Rowlock, the Harbor Detective: or The Terrible
Twins. By Jackson Knox.

486 Kansas Kitten. the Northwest Detective; or.
Yank Yellowbird's Search-Brigade. By Wm. H.
Manning.

‘87 Sunshine Sam, Chip of the Old Block; or, The
1Sailelnt Trail of the Silent Six. By Capt. Howard
0 mos.

488 The Thoroughbred S ort: or, The Big Bracer’s
Bequest. By Joe. E. edger. Jr.

Q9 The Pirate Hunter; or. The Ocean Rivals.

By
Col. P. lngraham.

y‘ 490 The Lone Hand in Texas; or, The Red-Cloved

Raiders of the Rio Grande. By A. W. Aiken.

491. mg and Cutt. the Invincible Detectives; or,
A ions Set of Scoundrels. By E. A. St. Mox.

{92 Border Bullet. the Prairie Sharpshooter: or,
Yank Yellowbird's Black Hills Colony. By Wm.
H. Manning .

c

(93 The Scouts of the Sea; or, The Avenging Buc-
caneer. By Col. P. Ingraham.

494 The Detective’s Spy; or, The Invisible Book.
By Jackson Knox.

495 Rattlepate Rob: or The Roundhead’s Reprisal.
, By Joe. E. Badger, Jr.

496 Richard Redﬂre. the Two Worlds Detective;
or. To the Bitter End. By Capt. H. Holmes.

497 The Fresh in Texas; or, The Escobedo Millions.
By A. W. Aiken.

198 Central Paciﬁc Paul. The Mail-Train SE22] (g,

Yank Yellowbird’s Iron Trail. By Will
Manning.

(99 Twilight Charlie, the Road S it or Sulphur
Sam‘s Double. By J. C. COWlelgk.’ ’

WThe True Heart Pards; or. The Gentleman
Vagabond. By Dr. N. Dunbar. "

501 Sgrinzsteel Steve, the Retired. Detective; or,
T e Relentless Shadower. By Jackson Knox.

502 Bareback Buck, the Cei’ntaur of the Plains; or,

The Trail of Six. By . S. Warns.

V ‘ 508 'Il‘lhe Dude from Denver: or, The Game at Ground

og By Wm. R. Eystar.

504 Solemn Saul
The Ii

the Sad Man from San Saba: or,
Big She

Out. ‘By Joe. E. Badger. Jr.

,.  Phil Fox, the Genleel Spotter- or the Private
r Secretary’

3 Oath. By Captain H. Holmes.

' IMUncle Honest, the Peacemaker of Hornet’s

Nest; or. Yank Yellowbird versus the Lea
Jackets. By Wm nlng. ~
Drummer Detective; or. The Dead Straight
Trail. By Geo. C. Jenks.

we Topnotch' Tim. the Mad Parson: or, The Bad
Men of the Basin. By Major D. B. Dumont.

‘  Old Falcon. the Thunderbolt Detective, or, The
, Fateful Legnc

y. By Jackson Knox.

510 m Moro. the Corsair Commodore: or, The Lion
of the Lagoon. By Col. P. Ingraham.

Yul Paint row. the Praire roger or, The mm
. 3mm Bylmorss. all.

, ’51: tall Velvet's Bit:

3 new;

I .

"on

v- 513 Tartar.

o! o Man's Go) By Capt. H.

the Man with Nine Lives: or,
ankYollowblrd'sBestYank. ByW.H.Manning.

G the Grizzly trom Gi'nse ' or
1», Solemn wheel-:1». By Joell. Badge? r. "

the Diamond Held Detective;

Ill Snort In
I or. mews-goon a Game. By J. Knox.

I  the Dead-Shot Duelist: or, The Fate.

tulﬁaritcge. ByCol.P.I

 mausoleum-m Trail: or.WmCody,ths
‘. Express

Pony V Rider. By Ned Buntline.

al Rich the Thorn blind: or long
.,. Jenkins’l nvoy. Byggohn W. '
Oldkld thence Ra er:or.TheBesel--
V vattongumtaways. Bkny.C?aCowdrlek..
Who-Me Band on the Cnddo; or. The Bad
«. vllndfthemgnnyon. Bye. W.Alke’n. "
be.” the Nor'west Pilot: or. Yank
Yjsllowhhil'nareatninkivery. ByW.H.Manning.
an summon Three; or, Slx‘l'oot Si's Clean
-F 81009. B1118. Warns. .

'5 I naReynard'of Red Jack; or.Tlla LostDetecti've.

By captain K. Holmes.

“Wammm;  Pinto  ByCol.

‘I Marl-m a:  ,
ﬁanmpgmnmrﬂq

l

Stake; or, The Gold Goths
Holmes.

 
Millions

l
526 Death Grip, [he Tenderfoot Detective: orl A I 571 Old Dismal. the Range Detective: or. The Hid.

Still Hunt for Old Secrecy. By Geo. L‘. Jenks.

527 Dandy Andy. the Diamond Detective; or, The 572 Jaunty JOe‘ the Jockey Detective.
Jenks.

“9 573 The Witch of Shasta; or, The Man of Cheek.

i
!

Twins of Tiptop. By Jos. E. Badger, Jr.

5‘28 Huckleberry, the Foot-Hills Detective; or,
‘ Rival Ranchmen. By Lieut. A. K. Sims.

529 The Fresh in New York; or, The Vendetta of
Hate. By A. W. Aiken.

580 The Savages of the Sea; or, The Avenging
Cruiser. By Col. P. Ingraham.

531 Saddle-Chief Kit, the Prairie Centaur; or, The
Border Blacksmith’s Terrible Temptation. By
Wm. H. Manning.

532 Javert, the Independent Detective: or. Captain
Cinnabar in New York. By Capt. H. Holmes.

533 Oregon. the Sport with a Scar: or. The Best
Man of Brace Box. By Wm. B. Eyster.

554 Greenmountain Joe; or, The Counterfeiter‘s
Cave. By Marmaduke Dey. .

535 Dandy Dutch, the Decorator from Dead-Lift; or,
Saul Sunday’s Search for Glory. By J. E. Badger.

536 Old Falcon's Foe; or, The Matchless Detective's
Swell Job. By Jackson Knox.

537 Blake, the Mountain Lion; or, The Fresh Against
the Field. By Albert W. Aiken.

538 Rube Rocket, the Tent Detective; or.
Treacherous Two. By Geo. C. J enks. I

539 Old Doubledark. the Wily Detective' or, The In-
visible Foe‘s Masquerade. By Wm. . Manning.

540 The Fleet Scourge; or. The Sea Wing of Salem.
By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

511 Ma or Magnet. the Manor Nerve; or The Muck-
a- ucks of Animas. By Joseph E. Badger, Jr.

512 The Ocean Drift; or, The Fight for Two Lives.
By A. F. HOlt.

513 The ate Detective: or. Major Million‘s
Joust Wit the Witch. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

544 The Back to Back Pal-ds;‘ 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. Bleos. E. Badger, Jr.

usraloonbrldge, the s hinx 'Détective; or, The
Siren of the Baletul ye. By Jackson Knox.

549 Belshazzar Brick,'the Bailiff of Blue Blues‘ 01'.
Four Horse Frank’s Frolic at Bad Luck .
By Wm. B. Eyster.

550 Silk Hand. the Mohave Ferret: or. The Marked
Man of Arizona. By Capt. Howard Holmes.

51 Ga Kean the with Backbone: or, The
G ators of Jack‘s ellght. By W. H.Mannl.ng.

552 Prince Primrose. the Flower of the Flock; or,

The Grand Camp at Paradise Gulch. By Lieut.
. K. Sims. v

558 Monte the Mutineer; or, The Branded. Brig.
By Col. P. Ingraham. \

554 Mad . the Rustler; or. The Drummer De-
tective’s Lay-out. By Geo. C Jenks. v

555 Grl Sack Sid, the Sam 19 Sport; or, the Rivals
of -about Range. yJoseph E. Badger, Jr.

556 F the S rt«Chevalier.; or, A Big Racket at
Slide

ut. yA. W Aiken.

The

557 The Mountain Graybeards: or, Old Riddle's‘

Greatest Riddle. By J C. Cowdrlck.

558 Hurrah Harry.the h Horse from Halcyon; or,
High Old Times at rdPan. By W. R. Enter.

550 Danton, the Shadow She : or, The canal the
Hidden Hands- By 09p? Howard games.

550 The Man from Mexico; or. The Idol of But
ChancenByCoLKIngraham.‘ .

Th Th m- or. The Falcon Detective's In
5“ vin?He,£'lge. By 'Jackson Knox.

“Lone Bend. the Shadow; or. The Master  the
Triangle Ranch. By Albert W. Aiken.
553w min Zeke, the H cho luckily
oayglld ﬁnmllity‘s .Hnrmvto Tmei’. By'
awn: Grl Sackdhargg. ‘OfTh Sets in ready
, e ' ‘ 6 0 am.
~ By Juli Badger, 1". .' -’ p .
505 PH ul. the Poltman
mnﬁerrl‘nmmnw. ByJ.C co
wnonmnueu Detectlve,- Ol‘ The n. htel'
Avenger. By Tom W. King. ' us
WCoptaln Midni'ht. the _ 0! Craft; or, The
muslin-15m. By . a. Warm. '
508 The Dude Detective
_ Hard LuckHustle. lay m. n. Eyster.‘ .
wow u Cobra. the Hooded}! e . or The
.QulcltenedDesd. By Captain 

den Cabin of Wind Canyon. By Wm. G. Patten.
By Geo. C.

By Major Daniel Boone Dumont.

574 Old Falcon’s Double. By Jackson Knox.

575 Stead Hand the Na leon of Detectives.
By William H Manning. W

576 Silver-Ton ued Sid' or The Gri Sack Sharp‘s
Clean Swegp. By. Joseph E. B gar. 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.

580 Shadowing a Shadow: or. The Paciﬁc Slope
Detective‘s Triple Trail. By J. C. Cowdrlck.

581 The Outlawed Skipper; or, The Gantlet Runner.
By Col. P. Ingraham.

582 J oram, the Detective Expert. By Jackson Knox.

583 Captain Adair. the Cattle King; or, A Bed
nsom. By P. . arne.

584 Fire Feather. the Buccaneer King. By Ned
Buntline.

535 Dan Dixons Double; or, The Deadlock of Danger
' Divide. By Wm. H. Manning.

586 The Silver Sharg Detective' or The Big Rustle
at XL Ranch. y Albert W. Aiken.

587 Conrad, the Sailor Sp z or. The True Heartsof
‘76. By 001. Prentiss ngraham. ,

588 Sandy Sands. the Sharp from Snap City' or,
Hoist by His Own Petard. By Joseph E. Ba ger.

589 Prince Hal, the Battling Detective; or, Pat Lyon,
the Master Locksmith By Charles Morris.

590 Gentle Jack, the High Roller from Humbug: or, '
The Dark Deal at Doubledeck. By W. R. Eyster.

591 Duke Daniels. the Society Detective or. Caging
the Uncanny Birds. By J. C. Cow ck.

59! Captain Sid. the Shasta Ferret: or. the Rivals of
Sunset. By Captain Howard Holmes.

593 The Sea Rebel; or, The Red Rovers or the Revo-
lutiou. By Col. Prentiss Ingraham.

594 Fire Face. the Silver King’s Foe; or, The Mys-
terious Highwaymen. By Albert W. Aiken. v

595 Wellbo the U Crust Detective: or Pia -
ing for {it marital-lumen; By Jackson'xnolyl.

596 Rustler Rube. the Bound-Up Detective. 'By
William E. Manning.

591' Big Bandy, the Brigadier of Brimstone Butte.
By Josep E. Badger, Jr. 1

5ll8 The Dominic Detective: or. The Deedham Sen-
sation. By J. C. Cowdrlck. ‘

l 599 The Dead Shot Nine: or Pards ol the Plains. '
(ﬂue Bill). '

Detectiy'e- or. Crush-V a w

or  McGallagln's  . . , r
W I ‘ Boadlo’s nine mum-y bison-dolly all

,\ receiptvof‘twelveeenueach.

 
By Hon. Wm. F. Cody,
«no The sneer Ship; or. The Sea Scouts ems. By
' Col. Prentiss lngrahnm.

ous Monitor. By Albert W. Aiken.

602 Ca in Nameless the Mountain ste ’ or,Tho
Hmong of the Big Horn. ByMW 121.13: Patten.

we Desert All the Man With the W;Bor.‘;rho I
y m.-

Strange Pilgrimage of Gentle
604 Th tectlvein Ragr or The Grim Shadower. ' L
ml)? Noel Dunbar. ’ ’

601‘ Joe Phenix‘s Shadow; or, The Great Detective’s
Mylte'rl

R. Enter; '1 M '

sou TheShadow Silv  or. The Bed Rebel {of
I the Revolution.  'Prentlulngnhnm. _
m  Dro Detective- or. The D'uamthorpe Sen;
notion. yJaokson'Knox. , .
M‘ Old Benslne. the
Joe Bowel-3’ Racket at Blouse City. By
W. Aiken. , ' ‘
Sam, the-snail w hinx- or
the visible Trail. 33‘ oil. 11. '
Ready June 18. ‘ v
600 Th Texas Tram ; or Solid‘ Saul,‘
Begonia. By 0.3:. Ti Whittaker.
ROW June 5; ' ‘

A non: law my Wednesday.

“Hard Case" Detective-n or. ‘v

Follov '
olmes. my

New-dealemmoempemwmmwwou '
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